“They were married for 64 years,” he says, beaming. “Mom passed just before Christmas last year.”
He turns to the drooping figure beside me.
“Tell her, Pop. Tell how you and mom met.”
The elderly gentleman has been nodding in and out during our conversation, but the hint of a smile tugs at the mention of his bride and he opens his eyes. I listen to a loose and meandering rendition of a 65 year old love story. And it is absolutely charming.
“He always told us: ‘you know I love you kids. But your mother comes first!’”
The son’s eyes shine, but his smile would light up the Milky Way.
When I leave the hospital at the end of the day I am still wondering.
Do my children know how much I love their father? I mean…really?
I wonder when the time comes that they are sitting at the foot of my hospital bed; will they ask me to tell our love story to a stranger? Will they smile with a faraway look in their eyes because we have modeled the kind of love that makes traveling through this strange land the kind of soul journey this hard place requires?
When the time comes. I want it to be so. Maybe that time will come sooner than I think. Maybe that time should be now.
I’m thinking about love today. About a cord of three strands. A seal on the heart. Of being one, but more than that…living love that way.
For Brian and Tina on Their Wedding Day:
The geese glide
on dimpled light–
dance on the water’s
skin the way love
skims a soul and
for hidden bits
of life. beloved is
a seed…she sheds this
hard shell that keeps
her as one–joins
with light and water.
light pulls beauty. in
darkness, roots grow—
feed and quench over
time. a strand of three
the years until love
weaves these cords