It is never easy – much more like gut-wrenching misery – to say goodbye to someone you love.
The promise of love is like the spring sun that warms the earth where late-fall bulbs were planted.
Responding from beneath the soil little green sprouts suddenly appear and excitement builds for the intricate beauty of what will follow.
Love is like that.
From the first glance across the room, or photos sent from across the miles, the relationship sprouts possibilities, a time is set, eyes meet, a hand is held, a stroll ensues.
As cut flowers grace the table, their fragrance filling the room, so scented letters between lovers follow.
Last night I found one of those letters.
I was going through boxes from the deep dark forever-forgotten cobwebbed corners of the basement, just somehow feeling the weight of responsibility to address what had long since been stored in silence.
Her letter was dated 54 years ago.
In part it read, “I sure had a good time with you on Sat. You are so nice to be with. Just to be sitting next to you or to be holding you in my arms is all too wonderful for me to believe. I like being with you so much, and even the moments when we are not doing much of anything are wonderful just because I’m sharing them with you – someone I love so very, very much. I wish every minute of my life could be shared with you.”
Every minute of her life and mine would thereafter be shared together.
Like flowers that bloom in all their beauty, then so quickly fade and fall, so she too is gone now.
And I fold her letter, slip it back in her envelope, and whisper a face-tear-streaked goodbye.
Ahh that was powerful. Thank you for sharing
Thank you Gloria for saying so. Out of great emotional pain come these letters.