"Our lives are but a single breath, we flower and we fade. . ." I've written about that line from a hymn on another occasion. Today it once again had great meaning for me when it was sung at my friend Marie's memorial service. To me it's a good reminder of just where we are in the great scheme of things; it keeps me humble. Gwen also loved that line when we would sing it together. I could feel her at my side when we sang it today. Although I've been in the church many times since Gwen's funeral, today I had a strong memory of her casket before the altar. Even as I write this I visualize her lying in the casket, and it still doesn't seem possible.
The church was full this morning, and I was nervous about volunteering to say a few words about my friend, but I did. The story I told was about how Marie, who was a business teacher, transcribed a fifty-year old note that Gwen had written to me--in shorthand. The note is precious because in it Gwen reveals that she has become aware that there is something very special happening between the two of us. It wasn't long after that when we first happily proclaimed our love for each other.
I also said that what I remember most about Marie was that whenever I met her she would give me a big hug and then kiss me; on the lips. "I will miss that," I said in conclusion. Marie had a great sense of humor, and those remarks brought a laugh from everyone. It was also an emotional moment, and at times my voice broke, but it was important that I do it. When one is the surviving spouse, as she and I are, the realization comes that there will be no one to mourn our loss in the same way that we mourn the loss of our soul mates. Family and friends can't possibly feel the depth of the sense of loss the surviving spouse feels, but we do as we must.
Our lives are indeed a single breath, Dear, and we are doubly blessed when we breathe it together. Tomorrow I'll re-post the poem I wrote about the night you wrote that note.
The church was full this morning, and I was nervous about volunteering to say a few words about my friend, but I did. The story I told was about how Marie, who was a business teacher, transcribed a fifty-year old note that Gwen had written to me--in shorthand. The note is precious because in it Gwen reveals that she has become aware that there is something very special happening between the two of us. It wasn't long after that when we first happily proclaimed our love for each other.
I also said that what I remember most about Marie was that whenever I met her she would give me a big hug and then kiss me; on the lips. "I will miss that," I said in conclusion. Marie had a great sense of humor, and those remarks brought a laugh from everyone. It was also an emotional moment, and at times my voice broke, but it was important that I do it. When one is the surviving spouse, as she and I are, the realization comes that there will be no one to mourn our loss in the same way that we mourn the loss of our soul mates. Family and friends can't possibly feel the depth of the sense of loss the surviving spouse feels, but we do as we must.
Our lives are indeed a single breath, Dear, and we are doubly blessed when we breathe it together. Tomorrow I'll re-post the poem I wrote about the night you wrote that note.
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