I met a widow tugging two small white bichon’s tonite on my dog walk. We watched our dogs show interest in each other and started dog talk.
“She is 1 year and he is 13 years old,” she pointed to each. “This is my family now. My husband died of cancer last year,” she stated pensively followed by a gleam.
“I’m sorry,” I stated.
She smiled and emphasized, “We had a wonderful marriage. I feel like I won the lottery. I miss my husband but I feel like I have something to miss many never even come close to experiencing.”
“Wow,” I said agreeing with her. “You are the second widow this year to tell me that. A wonderful marriage is such a rare gift. Very few people in life have had it.”
“Yes,” she chuckled. “Even when he had cancer I whisked by his bed one day cleaning house. He said,” Wow.” I stopped.“What?” He said, “I love you so much.” Her face glowed as she turned the pages of her mind.
“He slept on his right side and I slept on my left, so we were back to back. But we would each extend our upper arms behind us and fall asleep holding hands…every night.” She smiled.
“One day he was at the apartment rentals and a gal flipped her top up. He ignored it and she followed him and did it again. “What do you think?” she coyly grinned. “My wife’s are better” he laughed. “After she offered services, he just sat her down and lectured her on the threat of HIV and STD’s etc. – IF you knew my husband you would know that’s just like him. He had integrity and he really cared for people. All seven of his brothers are the same from a family of 11. All are committed to their wives; all have good marriages. Men of honor. Stable.”
“My husband worked hard at two jobs. He was very busy. But every Friday night for twenty-five years we had our date night. We both looked so forward to it. Sometimes we went on a walk, or watched a movie or went out to a fancy dinner. We never missed. He was so happy, ‘What are we going to do tonight?’”
“He watched over our only daughter so lovingly and she adored him. He always told her not to run on the bike trail alone because it wasn’t safe. ‘Walk on the sidewalks,’ he advised. Then a few months before he died, a boy was driving and texting at the same time my daughter was walking with her headphones and listening to music. He rounded the curve and hit her from behind. She was killed instantly.”
“I am so sorry,” I stated searching her eyes. “She didn’t suffer.”
“No, he hit her from behind, not in front. She never saw anything.” Her voice lilted up. I felt relieved also.
“They’re in heaven together,” I wondered aloud.
She nodded. The dogs stood still and quiet, hers and mine.
“I always feel like maybe God took her first because she couldn’t have borne to see her Dad die. They were so close.” Her words were quiet and penetrating.
Somehow, it made sense. In some inexplainable way.
We parted. I thanked her and told her I might blog about her husband. Their’s was a gift to share with the world . A celebration of family. True love, expressed the way God intended, between a husband and wife.
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