Yesterday, I met a woman. 85 years olds, she had caramel colored, smooth blemish free skin. Her silver hair and arthritic hands gave away her age more than her demean or diction. Married for 59 years, she had recently lost her soulmate, her husband, but she wasn’t bowed or broken. As she spoke about the love of her life a smile, not tears, graced her face. She summed up her married succinctly by saying, “Any time I looked to my right, my husband was always there. Whether I was washing dishes, shopping, or just watching TV, he was there helping and sharing.” They did everything together because they were best friends and they wanted nothing more than to spend time with each other. The passion that had brought joined them never changed just mellowed into a deep union and commitment that never wavered. The love she felt for him the day she said ‘I Do’ still radiated from her with each word she used to describe the man who gave her all of him for 21, 535 days. And I’m sure he wanted more days with his wife, just as she wanted more days with him.
When I said goodbye to that lovely woman, I cried for love lost and opportunities missed. I cried because of the hand fate had dealt me. But later, I was so grateful for meeting her and hearing her story. Though I write romance novels, I needed to hear a story of true love, honor and respect, of how it’s supposed to be between two people who have bound their lives to each other. True love does exist outside the pages of novel or the memory of an E-reader and her story was better than anything I’ve ever read.
Her love story will never die. It will live forever in me and hopefully in those that read this.