Nurein* (54) never grew up imagining marriage as something romantic. For him, marriage was simply the next stage of responsibility. He married young, built a home with the woman who understood him best, and unexpectedly became a single father after tragedy struck. Almost twenty years later, he found love again in the most unlikely place.
In this week’s Marriage Diaries, he reflects on rebuilding after loss, blending two families into one, learning to express himself again, and why love cannot stand alone in a marriage.
This is his marriage diary.
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Marriage wasn’t romance for me; it was about responsibility
Before I ever thought about getting married, I’d already decided I wasn’t a romantic person. It’s not that I didn’t care about women; I just didn’t express affection the way people expect. I believed in providing, protecting and showing up. Everything after that felt unnecessary or foreign.
My father shaped most of that. He used to say, “A man becomes a man the day he pays his own rent.” According to him, the next step was marriage. Not for love, but because a responsible man builds a family. That was the mindset I grew up with. I was surrounded by men who believed the same thing. My father had seven younger brothers, and they all treated marriage like a duty, not a grand love story.
So when marriage became a conversation in my life, it wasn’t because I was searching for deep connections or the love of my life; the decision felt straightforward. She was ready for marriage, and I was too; we understood each other well enough to build something solid. At the time, that made perfect sense to me.
Losing my first wife broke parts of me I didn’t know existed
Nothing prepared me for 2001. My first wife died in a car accident on her way back from work and left me with three children. That period broke parts of me I didn’t even know existed.
She understood me in a way nobody else ever had. She knew silence didn’t mean anger. She never pressured me to talk when I wasn’t in the mood. Life was simple with her, and losing her felt like losing my balance.
My family wanted me to remarry quickly so someone could raise the children, but I refused. I didn’t want anyone replacing their mother, and I was scared of my children being treated like outsiders in their own home. So I took on everything. I became the parent they cried to, the parent who packed their bags for school and the parent who cooked. My late mother helped until she passed, but the weight was mostly on me.
If anyone had told me then that I would marry again, I would have dismissed it immediately.
I didn’t plan to fall in love again. Life just pushed me there
Nearly two decades passed before anything like love appeared again, and it happened in the most ordinary place. I met my current wife at my last born’s school during visiting day. She was a single mother with two children and we kept running into each other.
At first, it was just casual greetings. Slowly, it became short conversations. Over time, we started looking forward to those meetings even more than the visiting day itself.
Five years went by, and we were still constant in each other’s lives. Eventually, we agreed it was time to bring our families together. We moved into one house with her children, my children and hopes for one child together. That part hasn’t happened, but we’re still trusting God.
The day we told the kids we were all going to live together remains one of my happiest moments. They were excited in a way that assured me we were making the right decision.
Blending two families will test every part of you
Nobody prepares you for the complexity of combining households. I didn’t doubt my ability to be a good partner because I’d been married before, but this was different. Each of us came with children who had their histories and peculiarities. And it was difficult to effectively play daddy and mummy.
But one of the hardest parts has been navigating the presence of my wife’s ex-husband. He’s not active in their lives, but every now and then, he asks to see the children. And as much as I want to be the only father figure they rely on, I can’t deny them access to their biological father.
So I have to sit with that discomfort and still encourage a relationship I’m not emotionally comfortable with. With my own kids, it’s simpler because their mother is gone. But with hers, every request from their father forces me to be the bigger person and think about what’s right.
Then there’s the financial side of things. When people ask me how many children I have, I say five. All five eat my food, sleep under my roof and call me daddy when they feel like it. My wife supports us, but she allows me to play the role of father fully, and I take that seriously.
Still, we get those small misunderstandings where a child reports an issue to me instead of her, or vice versa. We always pull everyone together and remind them that there’s no division here. We are one family.
My wife wants conversations, but I prefer silence
Communication is the area I struggle with the most. My wife is expressive. She likes to talk through things, share her thoughts and hear mine. She expects conversations on days I’m comfortable being quiet.
When she talks and I stay silent, she feels ignored, even when I’m simply thinking. What starts as a small moment easily becomes a misunderstanding. I’ve had to learn that silence doesn’t always work in marriage.
I’ve had to stretch myself. Sometimes, I force myself to talk about the day. Other times, I pretend I don’t know something and let her explain it because I know it makes her feel heard. I ask her questions I already know the answers to so she knows I’m paying attention.
It doesn’t come naturally, but marriage requires sacrifices you don’t always expect. I’m not the same man I was with my first wife. I’m gentler now, more expressive than I’ve ever been, even though it’s still not perfect.
Marriage has made me more patient and playful than I imagined
If you had met me twenty years ago, you would never believe I’d become the man I am now. I like to joke that I’m the judge of the house. Every day, somebody is reporting somebody, and I have to settle it fairly. That alone has stretched my patience.
But I’ve also become softer. My wife says I still don’t talk enough, but she doesn’t know the version of me my first wife knew; I was the man who barely spoke at all. Now, I sit with the kids to watch TV even when I’m not interested. I gist with them so they don’t call me strict. I play more than I ever imagined I would.
Marriage will teach you things about yourself that you didn’t even know were hiding somewhere inside.
Love is good, but love alone cannot carry a marriage
I believe love plays a strong role, but I don’t think it can stand alone. Marriage needs communication, patience, sacrifice, commitment and the willingness to show up for your family every day.
Love won’t raise children, settle conflicts among five siblings or help you swallow your pride when your partner needs reassurance. Love won’t guide you when you’re learning how to blend two families.
There is a place for love, but there must also be a place for responsibility and maturity. That balance is what keeps a home standing.
I’ve lived through two different marriages and learned from both. The first taught me devotion and the second taught me growth. Together, they taught me that it’s possible to love and stretch your heart in ways you never thought possible.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.
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