A Love Letter
This summer I've been struck by the permanency of the written word and its ability to convey deep thoughts and make them visible to others long after I leave this Earth. Please indulge me as I write a personal post.
When I was 15 years old I got a crush on a boy. I didn't understand it really. I just knew that every time I saw him I got flushed and acted like an idiot. I briefly dated a friend of his. This allowed me to spend even more time with him. He and his friends called me "mouse" because of my small stature. I saw a gentle soul, one that knew how to have fun but also had a deeper understanding of life than most at that age. I saw a young man who would bitterly defend anyone from bullying and tried to treat all with respect. One who would play on a team and fight to win but would be the first to console everyone in a loss and help them to put it into perspective.
Our first date was to the drive in movie to see "Tootsie". I was so nervous that day I couldn't eat. After he took me home I wrote in my diary that I had met the one my heart was seeking-dramatic words from a nearly 16 year old girl.
We had our ups and downs, mostly ups, and were married in a small ceremony at the young ages of 19 and 21, crazy kids. I only now look back and realize how young we were and how very much we had to learn. We married for sickness and health, for good or bad. We vowed to stick it out together.
The dark days came. After trips to the ER a disease, endometriosis, threatened to rob me of the children we hoped to have one day. He lost a job. Back surgeries and spine stabilization came one after the other for a time. Tears fell when leaving new friends with every move and every new job across the country. The doctor beckoned me to the little visiting room and closed the door telling me he had cancer and it had spread, likely stage 3b or 4. The doctor telling me to be sure affairs were in order when twelve days in the hospital following surgery were only producing more problems. The doctor beckoning me to the little visiting room to tell me it was now stage 4.
The miracles came. She was born with a full head of jet black hair and a beautiful round face and a lively spirit. He was coaxed from the womb lazily and his disposition was similar; a sleeper and a thinker and a dreamer. A daughter and a son. New jobs arrived just in time and each brought new opportunities. The spine was stabilized and even running became possible. Moves took us to new places and connected us with new friends and finally brought us back home. Cancer taught us the value of every moment, every single day and we somehow have managed to fend it off for nine years now. It's silent right now. It may make its presence known again but we're ready.
I've spent a lot of time wondering why. Why were we blessed with children when others were not? Why did we survive when others around us fell victim to cancer, to stress, to life? Why us? But, I don't believe in accidents and mine is not to ask why but to simply whisper thank you every single morning.
I look at this man, gray speckling his mustache, and reflect on thirty years. That young man that defended those from bullying has continued to do so all of his life. He has a gentle spirit and cries tears for those who suffer. This man hears me tell him I have a vision and he'll build barn doors for the closet and a beautiful coffee bar, setting aside all else to help my dreams become realities. This man who learned to be a father despite the challenges of his own childhood and loves his children fiercely. This man who has been my sounding board, who has learned to handle my anxieties, who has been the calming force in my life. This man who can diagnose something wrong with an airplane engine by hearing a sound over the phone. This man who will make crazy music videos with me and will dress up like an elf for Christmas pictures and will renew vows with Elvis. This man who calls cancer a blessing and truly believes it changed his life for the better.
This man who is the one my heart sought.
When I was 15 years old I got a crush on a boy. I didn't understand it really. I just knew that every time I saw him I got flushed and acted like an idiot. I briefly dated a friend of his. This allowed me to spend even more time with him. He and his friends called me "mouse" because of my small stature. I saw a gentle soul, one that knew how to have fun but also had a deeper understanding of life than most at that age. I saw a young man who would bitterly defend anyone from bullying and tried to treat all with respect. One who would play on a team and fight to win but would be the first to console everyone in a loss and help them to put it into perspective.
Our first date was to the drive in movie to see "Tootsie". I was so nervous that day I couldn't eat. After he took me home I wrote in my diary that I had met the one my heart was seeking-dramatic words from a nearly 16 year old girl.
We had our ups and downs, mostly ups, and were married in a small ceremony at the young ages of 19 and 21, crazy kids. I only now look back and realize how young we were and how very much we had to learn. We married for sickness and health, for good or bad. We vowed to stick it out together.
The dark days came. After trips to the ER a disease, endometriosis, threatened to rob me of the children we hoped to have one day. He lost a job. Back surgeries and spine stabilization came one after the other for a time. Tears fell when leaving new friends with every move and every new job across the country. The doctor beckoned me to the little visiting room and closed the door telling me he had cancer and it had spread, likely stage 3b or 4. The doctor telling me to be sure affairs were in order when twelve days in the hospital following surgery were only producing more problems. The doctor beckoning me to the little visiting room to tell me it was now stage 4.
The miracles came. She was born with a full head of jet black hair and a beautiful round face and a lively spirit. He was coaxed from the womb lazily and his disposition was similar; a sleeper and a thinker and a dreamer. A daughter and a son. New jobs arrived just in time and each brought new opportunities. The spine was stabilized and even running became possible. Moves took us to new places and connected us with new friends and finally brought us back home. Cancer taught us the value of every moment, every single day and we somehow have managed to fend it off for nine years now. It's silent right now. It may make its presence known again but we're ready.
I've spent a lot of time wondering why. Why were we blessed with children when others were not? Why did we survive when others around us fell victim to cancer, to stress, to life? Why us? But, I don't believe in accidents and mine is not to ask why but to simply whisper thank you every single morning.
I look at this man, gray speckling his mustache, and reflect on thirty years. That young man that defended those from bullying has continued to do so all of his life. He has a gentle spirit and cries tears for those who suffer. This man hears me tell him I have a vision and he'll build barn doors for the closet and a beautiful coffee bar, setting aside all else to help my dreams become realities. This man who learned to be a father despite the challenges of his own childhood and loves his children fiercely. This man who has been my sounding board, who has learned to handle my anxieties, who has been the calming force in my life. This man who can diagnose something wrong with an airplane engine by hearing a sound over the phone. This man who will make crazy music videos with me and will dress up like an elf for Christmas pictures and will renew vows with Elvis. This man who calls cancer a blessing and truly believes it changed his life for the better.
This man who is the one my heart sought.
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