We can’t order our husbands to grow old along with us, was my first thought when I unearthed these journals and notes from my cabinet. Maybe “Grow Old Along With Me” hadn’t been an order, but instead, perhaps, a pleading. I’d designed the tote bag, the journals and the notecards in the years since David’s cancer. The rest of the saying, “The Best is Yet to Be” was included whenever space permitted.
I truly believed that. The last five and a half years with David were the best years of my life. I looked forward to many more with him. We’d learned how to truly love each other in a way that we hadn’t known existed outside of fairy tales and romantic fiction. You could say that we cherished each other. Which, of course, makes the loss of David all the more painful. Would I have given up even a moment of those five and a half years to avoid this terrible grief?
Not on your life. I will always be thankful for what I consider the “bonus” five and a half years I had with David.
I will be filling the journals with the memories and the cries of my heart, and with prayers like this:
“Thank you, Lord, for giving me those extra five years and for allowing me to see what true love entails. Thank you for our eight children, a legacy of David’s that lives on. Thank you for the family and friends you now work through to bring comfort to our family.”