It's May 7th, 1983 and Evonne Walton took her vows with Firas Hamzeh Rimawi and became Mrs. Rimawi, his second wife after the first one didn't work out so well.
I don't know anything about his first wife. Only that she was Indian (from where I don't know). I'm sure if they had children, I would have known. I think.
Their smiles are so hopeful. So full of the promise of a new marriage. They'd known each other for a while by then. And by then it was "okay" for them to marry. In this picture, she's 17 and he's 25. They loved each other very much. Wanted to be parents. Wanted to have a wonderful life together. She wanted freedom from my Grandmother. He wanted to have the American Dream.
Less than a year later I was born April 23rd. Their first child. The bearer of their hopes and dreams and all that. A year a half after, my little brother was born July 9th. Also a bearer of their hopes and dreams. My fathers first son. His pride and joy. His mini-me. My mother lost children on the way. Siblings that I'll see on the other side. Siblings that never got to bear the brunt of this life. Siblings that were possibly reincarnated into other children, into cats, into trees, into air. Then the last of my mothers children was born September 20th 1989, my little sister. A prediction I foretold before anyone knew who she'd be. I just knew.
My parents had also been separated before her birth and then again a little while after. Too strong willed to let their love help them through it.
My father had another child in Jan 1998 with his third wife. I haven't seen my youngest brother since he was about 4 or 5 months old. After my father passed away, she decided to go back to Palestine.
So much has happened since those vows 25 years ago. A lot can happen in 25 years. People are born. They get old. They change. No longer bearers of affection. Gaining scars and scabs and tracks along the skin. No longer fresh, no longer doe eyed.....
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