Last May would have marked my 35th wedding anniversary. The days leading up to May 19 were filled with emotion. Horrific events were thrust into the spotlight as we faced legal depositions. The terror of one night continually weaved its way into our lives; every detail was delved into. Our stories seemed to reach those with deaf ears.
I stood at my husband’s grave. The timing of the recent inquisition was ironic. My thoughts did not seem to be enough; I needed to speak to him.
Happy anniversary … I miss you. We have another grandchild. Can you believe it – two boys and a girl, and another boy on the way. Boys! A change from our four girls. I am having a wonderful time figuring them out. And our granddaughter Lydia? What a sparkling personality she has. You would have happily embraced the role of grandpa.
This legal situation is trying. I think you would want me to fight for the security of your girls. I should not have to defend and validate your life, but yet I must.
You changed my life – fulfilled me. That really defines what you did for me: made me happy and content; satisfied my needs; let me reap the benefits of loving someone; completed me. Thank you for loving me.
Leaving the cemetery, I stopped at the town park. Spring continued to work its way back into our lives after a long winter. I felt relief from my emotions as I gazed at blossoming trees, and a sparkling pond rippled by the cascade of water that fell from a fountain – a smooth surface disturbed by the interruption, just as my ordinary life had been broken. Yet as plumes of water reached toward the sky and abruptly crashed into the water below, its path calmed once more as it found its way reunited with the steady flow of the pond. The simplest sights can warm a heart and refresh a troubled spirit.
In the evening, I was called upon to fill the role of baby sitter for Lydia – what an antidote to relieve the sadness of a wedding anniversary without the one you love. She greeted me with her smile, and later was delighted that bath time allowed her the opportunity to wallow and splash in the water.
Later, she brought me an array of books to read. Elmo educated her on numbers, colors and shapes. We then searched for a smile, along with other hidden items, in a book that provided a mirror on its back cover, where she and I could observe our own smiles. Is there any other feeling that matches the warmth that creeps through an adult while reading to a small child snuggled on your lap?
Lydia loves when I recite, “This Little Piggy” with her toes, ending with my fingers dancing up her leg straight to her chin while finishing with, “weeee all the way home.” She insists that this action be repeated over and over on each foot.
Suddenly she raised her arms to me, requesting to be held.
“May I have a kiss on the lips?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she replied as she pursed her lips for a quick kiss.
Sadness is often my companion. On this day I found that no medication was needed to ease the ache. Observing the beauty of nature can brighten a day, and the sweet innocence of a little child reminds me what wonders can evolve from two people falling in love.