True Love

My Valentine's Day post was obviously about loving oneself. Love's been a common topic in recent emails among my friends and myself, with some rather cynical and some rather optimistic views expressed. But even though I'm single, and have had my share of bad relationships, I still believe with every ounce of my being that true love exists.

I mentioned in a previous post that one of the things I liked about my reporting job was meeting different people and hearing their stories. That's because for every story that makes you shake your head in disbelief, there's another one that makes you shake your head in wonder.

I had the fortune of hearing one of those stories on the last day at my reporting job, and it's the reason I believe in true love. On June 7, 2004, I had the pleasure of meeting Johnny and Margaret, a couple celebrating their 70th anniversary. By the time I met them, both had been afflicted with Alzheimers, though the disease had progressed farther for Margaret. Still, the closeness they shared was clear by the way they looked at each other.

At their anniversary celebration, one of their daughters shared with me some things her father, a columnist for a small local paper, had written for or about his wife. To encourage all of my friends out there who may be a little cynical about love, I'd like to share some excerpts here.

In a letter to Margaret:
...When I see you walking through the yard or working in your garden and you are not aware that I am watching you from my shop window, I love you. At night, when the day is gone and just the two of us are together in the den, sharing the deepest thoughts of our hearts, as best friends do... then you kiss me goodnight with a kiss that tells me more than words could, I'm filled with an unspeakable completeness, and I love you.

A column Johnny wrote about Margaret for the local paper, but never published:
It was Sunday, Dec. 12, 1982, and we were at Ridge Church. Margaret and I were sitting together, but I had to move because I was sitting too close to the heater and it almost burned my leg. I moved across the aisle to another bench in the little country church.

During the service as I looked across at Margaret, our eyes met, she smiled at me. Suddenly, I had this tremendous feeling of pride in her. I thought to myself, "That's the most beautiful smile on the most beautiful face that I have ever seen... even lovelier to me than the face of that sweet, pretty teenage girl that I married over 48 years ago."

I thanked God for her--the good woman I love so much--a woman wholly above reproach. Just knowing that she is mine, all mine, always has been, and will be until the end of time.

What better place to open up my heart and thank God for loving me so much that he would place that beautiful girl on the same spot on earth he placed me back in the year 1931, and to allow her to become my mate. And now, 48 years later, seven wonderful children and thirteen precious grandchildren, and I still have that pretty girl that allowed me to become a part of her life, to share life with me. After 48 years, to fully believe that she has never regretted that decision is satisfaction to me beyond explanation. And she has never given me the slightest reason to think she doesn't have that same assurance.

Never in all the world could God have created anyone more perfect for me--NEVER.

Thank you, God... and, thank you, Margaret.