Everybody knows about the major milestones of marriage and relationships: that first ‘hello,’ the sweet smiles, butterfly-inducing kisses and the day that you both declare to family and friends that you’re taking the plunge into a new life together.

You anticipate the ups and downs that occur when two people mesh bills, babies, hobbies and careers under one roof. You learn his moods, he learns your quirks and if the goal is a union that lasts for a lifetime, you adjust, you compromise and use those vows as a cushion against the blow-ups, setbacks and other rocky trials looming ahead.

But few people discuss how profoundly the loss of a parent will rock a marriage. There are few words that encapsulate the pain that overwhelms you, the unfathomable emptiness that swallows your spouse and the gaping wounds sustained by all that only time and perspective can heal.

Last December had started out brimming with excitement and anticipation: Calvin and I had wrapped up most of our Christmas shopping, celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary over that weekend and looked forward to bringing in 2013 with a new-found cohesiveness and a bang. But the holidays were tempered with the sobering reality of how fragile and fleeting our lives can truly be, its sparkle made less vibrant by the unexpected passing of Calvin’s beloved mother, Ruby Jackson.

An unexpected illness that we thought would require some rest and a short hospital stay robbed everyone of a mother, an aunt, a sister, a wife, an in-law, friend and grandmother in her prime. With a youthfulness and regal air that belied her actual years, Mama Ruby was a warm, witty and vivacious woman that sustained the family. Simply put, to know Mama Ruby was to love her.

The Linden, TX native was also the perfect in-law, a blues music fan, a champion of my work in and out of the home (“That girl can write can’t she? Lawwree don’t play!”) and someone who embraced Darius and me from the moment we exchanged ‘hellos’.

Thanks to her golden skin, hazel eyes and high cheekbones, I immediately recognized the resemblance that she’d shared with Calvin and felt an instant connection when Mama Ruby’s syrupy Southern drawl enveloped me like a wreath as we hugged.”Hey Lawwree, I’m Ruby.”

Our small talk turned into long phone conversations, hours visiting at the kitchen table and on the backyard deck comparing notes and trading war stories about the man we both loved. She was instantly ‘Granny’ to my then-8-year-old Darius. And when Nia was on the way, she declared to all with a possessive palming of my baby bump that her firstborn granddaughter would be another mini-me: “I’m claiming this one!”

Over the years, as our family grew larger and more complicated, Calvin and I remained fortified by her strength, buoyed by her optimism. We were always so sure that we could bask in that love that being left with only memories, especially right before Christmas, devastated us all.

Darius has soldiered on stoically since the homegoing and Layla sings songs about bringing Granny back down from heaven. But of all our kids, Nia struggles the most. Many nights have been filled with her heart-wrenching sobs as she struggles to adjust in a new life without her grandmother.

But when storms rock the foundation of our lives, our spouse can serve as an anchor that keeps us from drowning and breaking apart. Our years together as a couple and a family didn’t answer the questions of ‘why?’ or ‘how?’

But knowing that we will navigate those waters together honors Mama Ruby’s belief in family and will assure smoother sailing as we hold on to one another in the turbulence yet to come.