Today is my parents’ wedding anniversary. This marks what would’ve been their 52nd year as married sweethearts. My daddy has been gone eight years but my mom still celebrates this day- as much as that is possible for a widow.
She doesn’t look up what the gift of the year should be, she doesn’t go out to a fancy restaurant, and she can no longer exchange her loving sentiments through a Hallmark card. Despite those things, in her own way she celebrates what she and my dad shared.
She looks at his pictures, she reads things he wrote to her, and she goes to his gravesite. There she gives her sweetheart the only thing she still can- her devotion. She carefully picks out just the right flowers, she cuts and separates them so the bouquet looks perfect, and then she places them in the provided grave side vase.
My mom stays for a while beside my dad’s headstone. I’m not sure if she talks to him or not, or if it’s enough just to feel as if he is close. She has no illusions about the state of where my dad actually resides. She knows that grave holds only his remains, and that his soul is with the Lord; however, she is still devoted to being with him in any little way she can be.
My mom is only one side of the love story my parents shared. Theirs was truly the thing of fairy tales, a marriage and partnership that began as teenagers, and lasted until “death do us part.”
I can’t begin to know my mom’s heartache today or any day that she misses her best friend. I can however take a few minutes to reflect on what I witnessed through their love for each other.
I called my mom today just to let her know I remembered March 23rd, and then I looked up the eulogy from my dad’s funeral. Eight years later, the sting of losing the best man I’ve ever known is still there, but maybe more importantly it’s what has lived on that crowds my mind and heart.
The memory of my dad is like a healing salve. Who he was has not been forgotten by his sweetheart, by his children, or by his grandchildren. Because of that, the only thing left to say is- we miss you, daddy.
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