once a widow

I witnessed something beautiful today.

Carol, my age, buried her husband 5 years ago. He'd been ill for a few months, but a full recovery was expected. One night she kissed him good night and left his hospital bed to return home to her 3 children. The phone rang as soon as she got home. He had died of a massive heart attack during her short drive home. Total shock.

It was devastating news to say the least. The funeral sent me into a tailspin. I'd been to enough funerals to learn how to deal with loss, and although I'd shed some tears, they never had a lasting affect on me. This one did, and I'll tell you why.

I was envious of their love. Of his love for her and their children. Something I had always wanted and couldn't seem to find in my marriage. She told me he used to grab her in the kitchen and they would slow dance. I never forgot that. When he died, I thought she had lost that forever. And I imagined how that felt. It was so wrong for love like that to die.

Today I saw Carol in an ivory gown. She was standing in the back of a church, her grown sons at her side. They were all dapper in their dark suits, giving their mother away to another man. This man who loved her so much he was willing to become a part of her family, take on her 3 children and weave himself into their lives.

I was amazed at their love for her, their acceptance of this man who would somewhat take their father's place, move into the home where they had lived with their dad, and sleep in the same bed their dad had slept with their mom.

Carol's 13 year old daughter stood before everyone in the church and sang "You Raise Me Up" to Carol and her husband. There wasn't a dry eye in the church.

The last time many of us had seen each other was at the funeral. We had come full circle and witnessed an extraordinary thing today. We saw love heal all.