I was forty when I finally fell in love with a man who was a widower.
He’d been married exactly one week when his wife died. Car accident- she’d gone out for butterscotch topping for the sundaes they were going to have after they finished wallpapering their bathroom.
He didn’t date for five years after her death, and he didn’t think about marrying again until fifteen years after that, when he met me.
She was a lovely black-haired woman who taught nursery school and wrote exquisite poetry.
I know Pete is devoted to me, but I also know that a corner of his soul is reserved for her. I don’t mind.
She deserves it. And so does he.
~ Elizabeth Berg, The Art of Mending
So very true. I’ve lost two wonderful husbands to cancer. Though I am married again, I still love and miss them both. And it’s a blessing to me that Ron doesn’t mind.
Linda, you have lost *two* husbands. The capacity your heart must know… I am astounded. Thank you for reading my words and joining me here. You know this journey too well.
Tricia, you have so eloquently put into words the emotions, thoughts and feelings I’ve never been able to fully articulate. I HAVE to read everything you write. I know that your blogs and your book(s) will also bring hope and healing to many. You’re in good company–C.S. Lewis (A Grief Observed) helped me to understand that my deep grieving was normal and Henri Nouwen gave me hope through the process–so thank you. Lord willing, I will see you at The Chapel in April.
Elizabeth is a wise woman.