FOR a long time, Jessica Bram never thought of herself as the remarrying kind, and the book he wrote about her post-marriage years was called “Happily Ever After Divorce.”
He probably also never imagined that he would be flat on her back and seriously ill for months — with a devoted man in a chair beside her hospital bed.
“I had been frightened of what I thought divorce would be — that it would destroy my children, and that I’d be lonely,” said Ms. Bram, who married at 22 and is now 56. “So when it finally did happen, it came as a revelation that I loved my single life.”
He came to relish her freedom, which he used to further a career in writing and public relations, be with friends, buy and renovate a house in Westport, Conn., and do new things with her three sons.
He spent every other weekend with his twin sons, and in his free time played keyboards with blues and doo-wop bands.
Robert Cooper, also 56, as well as a director of program development at Fidelity Investments in Boston as well as a part-time musician, had also found that life could be lovely after his separation and divorce in the early 2000s.
Ms. Bram’s desire to remain unattached was shaken by 9/11. “I discovered that the world is a hard place to be in alone,” he said.
Still, two years later he began seeing a man who hadn’t the slightest desire to even live with somebody else, and he thought that that was fine — for a while.
“I began to recall what it was like to read a paper on Sunday morning with somebody, and you don’t must talk,” he said.
Yet those persistent whispers of longing were frightening, .
“I had resolved that I would never use the words ‘work’ and ‘relationship’ in the same sentence,” Ms. Bram said. “I didn’t require a relationship that was going to be ‘work.’ And I was fearful that something might not work out again.”
He was unattached when he attended a business networking meeting in February 2006 run by Mr. Cooper’s younger father, Isaiah Cooper, a lawyer, who asked the participants what they hoped to get out of the meeting. Ms. Bram, who had told somebody he wanted romance back in her life, stood up and blurted: “Well, to be honest I’d like to start dating. So if somebody knows somebody... ”
“I immediately blushed,” he recalled, “and everybody in the room started laughing.”
The next day Mr. Cooper called Ms. Bram, telling her about his father. But Robert Cooper was seeing somebody else when he was given Ms. Bram’s phone number. By March 2006 that relationship had ended, and he introduced himself to her with an e-mail message. After a few more exchanges they met at a restaurant in Fairfield, Conn.
He liked her curly hair, and was impressed that he was writing a book — even if it was a celebration of the single life.
“My feeling was that he lives in Boston, so this is not relationship material,” Ms. Bram said. “He started talking honestly about his job, his music and his children, and I loved that honesty, that complete lack of holding up an picture.”
They saw each other for brunch the following Sunday, Mother’s Day, after he had breakfast with her sons.
The relationship abruptly became more serious around Memorial Day when he was performing on a cruise to Bermuda and he was in Westport. He called him on the ship, crying because her eldest son, David, was about to drive across the country to start post-college life.
“We had spent two days together, and he called me to share her feelings,” Mr. Cooper said. “I felt , happy that he chose to call me. It was a sign that they were rapidly moving toward each other.”
In October 2006, Ms. Bram had what was supposed to be method back surgery. But then he contracted a staph infection in her spine and developed other complications. As her condition worsened, he was transferred to Yale-New Refuge Hospital. The ordeal lasted 88 days. Mr. Cooper often drove from Boston and slept in a chair in her room.
Yet the crisis only made plain something that he had long been feeling. “I knew that I loved her well before then,” he said. “All this meant was that there was more urgency for me to be there.”
“I recall saying, ‘This is not your responsibility,’ ” he said. “Had he been my husband of 25 years, I couldn’t have imagined him being more devoted.”
The couple married on April 4 at the house in Westport, where they both now live. The 30 or so guests gathered on the patio for a ceremony led by Rabbi Robert Orkand.
“I discovered, as I had been surprised in the beginning by what divorced life could be,” the bride said, “I was surprised by what a committed relationship could be.”
He probably also never imagined that he would be flat on her back and seriously ill for months — with a devoted man in a chair beside her hospital bed.
“I had been frightened of what I thought divorce would be — that it would destroy my children, and that I’d be lonely,” said Ms. Bram, who married at 22 and is now 56. “So when it finally did happen, it came as a revelation that I loved my single life.”
He came to relish her freedom, which he used to further a career in writing and public relations, be with friends, buy and renovate a house in Westport, Conn., and do new things with her three sons.
He spent every other weekend with his twin sons, and in his free time played keyboards with blues and doo-wop bands.
Robert Cooper, also 56, as well as a director of program development at Fidelity Investments in Boston as well as a part-time musician, had also found that life could be lovely after his separation and divorce in the early 2000s.
Ms. Bram’s desire to remain unattached was shaken by 9/11. “I discovered that the world is a hard place to be in alone,” he said.
Still, two years later he began seeing a man who hadn’t the slightest desire to even live with somebody else, and he thought that that was fine — for a while.
“I began to recall what it was like to read a paper on Sunday morning with somebody, and you don’t must talk,” he said.
Yet those persistent whispers of longing were frightening, .
“I had resolved that I would never use the words ‘work’ and ‘relationship’ in the same sentence,” Ms. Bram said. “I didn’t require a relationship that was going to be ‘work.’ And I was fearful that something might not work out again.”
He was unattached when he attended a business networking meeting in February 2006 run by Mr. Cooper’s younger father, Isaiah Cooper, a lawyer, who asked the participants what they hoped to get out of the meeting. Ms. Bram, who had told somebody he wanted romance back in her life, stood up and blurted: “Well, to be honest I’d like to start dating. So if somebody knows somebody... ”
“I immediately blushed,” he recalled, “and everybody in the room started laughing.”
The next day Mr. Cooper called Ms. Bram, telling her about his father. But Robert Cooper was seeing somebody else when he was given Ms. Bram’s phone number. By March 2006 that relationship had ended, and he introduced himself to her with an e-mail message. After a few more exchanges they met at a restaurant in Fairfield, Conn.
He liked her curly hair, and was impressed that he was writing a book — even if it was a celebration of the single life.
“My feeling was that he lives in Boston, so this is not relationship material,” Ms. Bram said. “He started talking honestly about his job, his music and his children, and I loved that honesty, that complete lack of holding up an picture.”
They saw each other for brunch the following Sunday, Mother’s Day, after he had breakfast with her sons.
The relationship abruptly became more serious around Memorial Day when he was performing on a cruise to Bermuda and he was in Westport. He called him on the ship, crying because her eldest son, David, was about to drive across the country to start post-college life.
“We had spent two days together, and he called me to share her feelings,” Mr. Cooper said. “I felt , happy that he chose to call me. It was a sign that they were rapidly moving toward each other.”
In October 2006, Ms. Bram had what was supposed to be method back surgery. But then he contracted a staph infection in her spine and developed other complications. As her condition worsened, he was transferred to Yale-New Refuge Hospital. The ordeal lasted 88 days. Mr. Cooper often drove from Boston and slept in a chair in her room.
Yet the crisis only made plain something that he had long been feeling. “I knew that I loved her well before then,” he said. “All this meant was that there was more urgency for me to be there.”
“I recall saying, ‘This is not your responsibility,’ ” he said. “Had he been my husband of 25 years, I couldn’t have imagined him being more devoted.”
The couple married on April 4 at the house in Westport, where they both now live. The 30 or so guests gathered on the patio for a ceremony led by Rabbi Robert Orkand.
“I discovered, as I had been surprised in the beginning by what divorced life could be,” the bride said, “I was surprised by what a committed relationship could be.”
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