I don't blame my in-laws for assuming I would only be a fleeting part of their daughter's life

From left, this was Judy, Terry, me and Tom on our wedding day (June 6, 1992). I'm sure Judy and Tom did not see this coming when they first met me six years earlier.

Today would have been my in-laws' 63rd wedding anniversary. Tom and Judy were married on July 1, 1961, but sadly, neither is still around to celebrate the milestone.

I vividly remember the first time I met them. Terry and I had been dating for a couple of weeks when she brought me home for the first time in mid-March 1986. I feel like it was a Saturday afternoon, but I can't be sure of that.

Tom and Judy were relaxing in their living room when we walked in and Terry introduced me. I was on my best, most polite 16-year-old boy behavior and said something to the effect of, "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Ross."

They returned the sentiment, but in a decidedly half-hearted way. It's not that they were impolite or anything, but they didn't leap out of their chairs to greet me, either.

The reason for this, I found out sometime later, was that they figured I wasn't going to be in the picture for very long. According to Terry, they thought she was in a fickle stage and would be moving from boy to boy for the foreseeable future.

I was also a kid from school and not someone from church, which undoubtedly colored their initial assessment of me somewhat.

We all know how things turned out, of course. I stuck around for the rest of both of their lives. (And let it be known, a few years after Terry and I started dating, I also began regularly attending the Church of the Blessed Hope. So really, how bad could I have been?)

I've always found this story to be funny, but I've also reached the point in life where I kind of get it, too.

Terry and I have raised five kids into adulthood. For better or worse, we know how most high school relationships end. Tom and Judy had no reason to think the kid in the jean jacket standing in their living room trying to impress them would play any role in their family's long-term future.

What were the odds they would never manage to get rid of me? As my dad would have said, slim to none, and Slim just left town.

Yet, in the face of any reasonable expectation, here we are.

I miss them both. Before they each passed away, I would have appreciated one more opportunity to look them square in the eye and say, in all sincerity, "I told you so."