Theirs was a great love story. He never hesitated to tell anyone who would listen about her initial rejection of him. He loved to play wounded heart. She always reminded him of her fear of the ferocity with which she absolutely adored him.
"Even now" she would whisper and kiss him.
They would laugh and hug.
So after they met and fell madly in love, they waited until they were all grown up before they shared and built a life; becoming one. They weren't clingy or needy but enjoyed each others' company the most. They also reveled in adventures and hobbies; his gardening, cooking; her writing, hiking... When they were apart for times; and that happened, they would sit and share; treasuring the absence as much as the reuniting; him in his chair and her in her squeaky wooden rocker.
And of course they loved. Boy did they! They happily made babies (after much thrilling practice and continued learning) loving them, loving the few, true friends they made and treasured; never forgetting each other, not taking their love for granted but striving to live out those vows as honestly as they could; with respect and laughter, accepting what was not; seeing and understanding they were themselves; perfectly flawed and in turn, their love was perfectly tailored to them.
Through it all; sickness, bad jobs, worse breaks and tough times, they simply grew stronger; leaning and relying; believing the other was invincible, unstoppable and courageous. Each night before the day declared itself the victor and they would collapse into bed comforted by blankets and the soothing touch of skin, he would tell her he loved her and that he would do the same tomorrow. She would always say "I'll be right here." And sleep would come before they were given the gift of a new day. Their life moved forward and they held hands, running with it where ever it took them. They dreamed and loved.
But life was careless. He began to forget; little things at first. Then more and they were scared. He helplessly watched himself fade until there was a stranger in the mirror, home and life and until it no longer mattered. He had a friend though. A nice lady who watched over him, made meals and picked up his stinky socks. It was kind of her to help him so much. She never came too close; him being a married man and all. He missed his wife and so he would tell her stories of their life together. She sat in a rocking chair in the corner; listening patiently and it touched him how moved she'd be. She would laugh and cry with him. It made him smile softly sometimes; this kindness of a stranger. Maybe she had loved like that once. He couldn't explain his feelings but she brought him calm and comfort. Safety? Maybe. she was a very good woman, even when he was in a bad mood, she would stay and wait out the storm.
And then the nice lady got sick. She couldn't eat and she got real skinny. It made him scared so he called her kids. He had asked her to put their numbers in the phone in case he needed them for something. Some times his memory wasn't what it used to be. Well they came and then they all cried because she just kept getting smaller and leaving them in tiny bits. They whispered around him and smiled gently at him. He hated that. He wished they were his kids. He wished he had family to hold. He was scared to be without her; of being alone. He would go to her at night and sit next to her bed after asking her children if it was all right. They always said yes. And the lady would turn to him and look at the chair next to her bed. He would sit and she would say "Tell me something you remember best..." and he would tell her of places he had visited with his beautiful wife. She seemed so comforted by that and it made him feel good make her happy; for just a moment.
Then one morning, she sighed and was gone. His world was filled with fear and strangers. He became agitated and grouchy; more forgetful. Some people came and took some of his stuff. Thieves. Then they kidnapped him and put him in a hotel where there was stuff just like the stuff they took. He was going to call the police but there were so many others who were held captive, that it had to be the police that did it. They fed him though and cleaned his cell. Tuesdays they had ice cream cake and Saturdays was macaroni and cheese. The other prisoners seemed okay and in good health. They let them watch movies and play billiards. Doctors visited and so he was sure they kept them alive for ransom. He wondered if he should write a book for someone to find when his end came. He'd dedicate it to a really nice woman he'd met. He loved her. Too bad she never knew. Each night he would sit in a squeaky rocking chair and look at the stars, thinking of his wife and the nice lady who helped him.
"I'll love you tomorrow." he promised the night.
At last, after many lonely days, too many to count or remember, a breeze whispered a reply he recalled hearing.
"I'll be right here."
He wasn't afraid anymore as memories flooded back to him and he reunited with the kindest stranger he had loved all along. He said her name and recognized her face when she finally came to collect him.
And their love continued. As always.
For you, my love, the best friend I've ever known; my life. I'll be right here; as always.
Thank you for coming to visit. I enjoyed our little cry today. Was I the only one?
Until next time.
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