It could be argued that as pertains to civil rights, marriage equality has moved at Mach speed over the past eight years. It was in 2004 that Massachusetts became the first state to offer gay marriage licenses. In the ensuing years, six other states have followed suit, as has the District of Columbia. There are also a myriad of state and local governments that offer some kind of recognition of gay couples.

When my then-partner and I purchased our first Norfolk home in 2007, Connecticut had not yet acted to allow its gay citizens to marry. The fact that such a change was on the horizon at that time was unknown to us. We were simply in search of a weekend respite from our home in Brooklyn, NY. Norfolk, with its great beauty and rural charm, had captured our hearts. Once we officially owned our home, being so close to the Massachusetts state line left us quipping “we’ve moved five miles from the altar”.

The right to marry would have to wait  –  but not too long. In 2008, a court case resulted in a ruling that allowed Connecticut gays and lesbians to partake of the rights and benefits of civil marriage. We never actively sought marriage, yet when it had gently landed on our shoulders, it was a welcome addition to our lives.

Why did we do it? We were, after fourteen years together, committed to one another for the long haul. Having lived in four states, owning several homes together, and standing together through life’s blessings as well as the inevitable times of sorrow, we were united as any couple could be. One of the driving forces was the simple practicality found in marriage. With that license, we could forego the worry and expense of forever updating our wills. Neither of us can stomach the thought of leaving the other behind to fight with family while at the same time sorting through immense grief. As a spouse, all of those rights bestowed by the state have such a practical, powerful aspect to them.

Then there was an event last month that brought one crucial benefit of our marriage to the forefront. My partner, Tracy, had what was billed as simple surgery. Simple or not, as he went under the knife, I worried in the waiting area. I sought anything to divert my attention from what was happening in some sterile, cold surgical room. When the doctor came out, she asked for me by name. Smiling, she ushered me back to be at Tracy’s side. The doctor and her nurse turned to me to go over the important post-operative care, explaining in detail what to do and what to expect over the next few days. It was the dignity and respect afforded any spouse under such circumstances.

The relief of knowing I have unfettered rights such as hospital visitation and end-of-life decisions is monumental. Having watched my mother suffer at death’s doorstep, then be pulled back, only to suffer another day, was heartbreaking.  Her begging her children to help her die will forever be etched upon my psyche.

The aforementioned rights we gained were welcome but somewhat expected. The surprise was the effect our marriage would have on friends and family. Those gay and lesbian friends living where marriage was not an option yearned to have the right to marry. Straight friends simply wanted us, a couple they knew as devoted and loving, to enjoy what they already had.

For the two of us, we saw that our marriage diminished no other marriages. The well of equality is deep and wide, leaving our small taste of fairness as nothing more than a mere ripple across the waters. That so many would feel buoyed by that ripple is astounding. This is, I suppose, how lasting progress is achieved.