This summer, "co-incidentally", I unloaded a big bin of greeting cards and sorted and bagged them according to the giver. So when the next impossible nudge came, I knew exactly where to go although I fought it furiously for several days. What possible good could come from rereading cards received from the one who wouldn't be offering one this sad year?
I smiled at the memory of a Valentine's Day years ago when the kids were young. A neighbor popped in to show me the golden heart her husband had given her along with a mushy card. Good for her. That night, John came home late, empty handed. When he saw my face he remembered and dashed off to 7-11 and came back with these romantic items: a pair of stockings and some honey buns. I can smile now only because he never forgot again and the cards in my hand glow with remembrance of all those subsequent years.
A small note was tucked into the cards from 3-17-13, the anniversary of our first date. It read: " 50 years ago this day it was said: "Owl poop(sanitized) , I think I love you"....and here today, once again I say:" Owl poop, I love you. " Ever the poet. Can you blame me for falling in love?. His last card said: "It just keeps getting better". And that was so..
During all the reading and weeping over the cards, I heard this question posed to my heart: "Would you trade all those 57 years of companionship, love, laughter, challenges, and adventures to feel normal, sane and O.K. right now.?" And I had to say: "of course not." In that moment I felt so much better that originally I thought the title of this would be "Turning a Corner on Valentine's Day." But when I sold John's tractor mower that day and it rolled out of the shed heading to another lawn, the grief bear came out of her cave and shook me silly once again.
2 comments:
O my Braveheart, you have regained your wonderful sense of humor, so delighted you are writing again...57 years of LOVE, that's a lot of material to write about going forward. I do not underrate your loss. I cajole it through holy beads. Remember, your Beloved is romping with Cooper, watching down and waiting for you to see them in the next portal opening up for your consolation.
I tuck much love into this note, anticipating reading many more of your wonderful memories.
Just keep writing.
my Dear Sharon, I too, save all those little tokens I have received over the years. I truly grieve for your loss, and am truly sorry for that day in the Walmart grocery....I didn't remember that Floyd had told me when it happened. forgive me, please, for causing you pain that day.
you are a most wonderful friend and role model....
love, Bev
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