The handsome elderly gentleman sat within my plain view at the table near us in the restaurant. I could see him over my sister’s shoulder. He was dressed in summer attire, perfect for the hot day, but the yellow of his shirt played against the silver of his somewhat disheveled hair. An untouched plate of food sat in front of him and another full plate and a drink was set at the place across from him - although there was no one in that chair.
I watched as he would pick up his fork and place it back down without taking a bite. Then he would look over my shoulder towards the entrance, look at the empty chair, sigh and take a sip from his soda and then put it back down. Finally he looked around and asked a little too loudly, “Does anyone have the time?” Instantly everyone took out their phones but it was a lady near him that announced, “It’s 12:15”.
“Thank you” he said in a much quieter voice and then a bit louder, “My wife will be coming you know.”
More waiting and finally he shrugged his shoulders and began eating. Within a few minutes, he called the waiter over to take away his half empty plate. More heavy sighs and more time had passed when he called the waiter back asking her to prepare the extra plate to go. He kept looking at the empty chair, kept waiting and then at the same time as my sister and I were leaving I heard him say resignedly, “She’s not coming”. I could tell that he had at one time had a slight stroke in the way he was speaking. And then I caught the look on his face and recognized it as one which so often had mimicked the expression I have had or felt many times before and I knew…his wife would never be coming to lunch again.
For so much of this journey through widowhood I’ve felt or wished that Dale would just walk in the door and be here with me again, even if just for lunch. The “acceptance” part of grieving that says - he would never be doing that again - came fairly early on but the feeling that he could or should never quite goes away.
I have the happiest memory of meeting Dale for lunch one day many years ago. I had been in Denmark for nearly two months and was flying from Copenhagen to Paris. Dale was flying from the states and we were to meet at the hotel he had booked in Paris at noon and then go to lunch. What a joyous thing it was to see the love of my life, my best friend, stride into the lobby of the grand hotel where I was waiting after such a long separation and fall into his arms and then to walk hand in hand and talk and eat a casual Parisian lunch together…True serendipity.
I should be crying here, right now, feeling empty but I’m not! I’m smiling and feel a sweet happiness.
People kept telling me it would get easier. “Yeh, Right” I thought skeptically. But I'm surprised to tell you that it suddenly, suddenly got easier just a few days ago. I'm relieved to come to that realization. It doesn't mean that I miss Dale any less - it doesn't mean that I love him any less in fact I find that I love him more and more with each passing day.
At the store 3 days ago, I saw a little sign for sale that said simply “It's Time to Be Happy”. And it was next to a painting of a beautiful white flower. Dale used to write poetry for me, often it would be just a few well-chosen words that would resonate and touch my heart and he would often bring me a white rose from our yard so these two things (the sign and the painting of the white rose) felt like gifts from him. Gifts for now, gifts for this time. He is with me; in my thoughts and memories, I see him in little things as I go about my day, I remember him in songs that I hear and even feel his love when looking into sky blue eyes in photos of my grandchildren. And when I saw that sign "It's Time to Be Happy" I felt like he was whispering to me…OK, it’s time now, it is a possibility to think about feeling happy.
And being happy doesn’t mean I'm moving on or that I'm OK without him but because (and this was a light-bulb moment) this is the latest chapter in the book about…Us. I love the fact that he and I together are…Us. A case of “Love you still, Always Have, Always Will”.
It’s getting easier, because I’ve learned to take those memories (whether carefully thought out or the ones that come unexpectedly with something that suddenly reminds me of him) as moments of joy rather than moments of heartbreak. It has, in truth, taken time but now…It’s time to be happy.
I pray the sorrowful and grieving gentleman at the restaurant will arrive at that time soon. My heart goes out to him.
*******************************************************************************************
Writing Assignment #29 – “There’s No Place Like Home”
Now do that for each of the homes you have lived in during your married life (and/or your adult life).
No comments:
Post a Comment