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Our Life, Our Journey, Our Precious Memories
On February 14th, 1956, I bought an ice cream soda from the local drug store down my street and then rushed out to leave. I wanted to head out quickly so I could make it to my job as a librarian at Angel’s Brook Elementary School. I was a twenty year old single woman who had the slightest clue to what my life would bring.
So it was fortunate that I met you.
Right before I left the drug store, you came up behind me and asked, “Will you pinch my arm so I can tell my friends that I’ve been touched by an angel?” That’s when our journey of memories began:
A first date at the movies watching the new adventure film.
A fifth anniversary at a French restaurant.
A proposal with a diamond ring.
Months of bridal preparation.
The big wedding ceremony and the first time I ever saw my father cry.
Honeymoon in Paris.
Our first house – baby blue behind a white picket fence.
Our first set of twins named Jasmine and Emily.
Late night feedings, constant crying (by us), and no sleep for weeks.
Our first pact to never have another baby.
Our third child named Ryan.
Our fourth child named Henry.
Our fifth child named Tiffany.
Our sixth child named Brian.
Our second pact to never have more children or else I’d go mad.
Pushing all of our children to go through college and finish with degrees.
Watching all of our kids become married, have their own house behind a white picket fence, and obtain much more children than they’d planned on.
Retiring from both of our jobs and enjoying the new position of being grandparents.
Your almost broken back after all sixteen grandchildren decided to jump from behind you at once when we visited them for Christmas.
Your decision to always wear football gear before you headed over to their houses during the holidays.
Our fiftieth wedding anniversary . . .
Oh, dear, our fiftieth wedding anniversary. My voice cracks whenever I think about that time.
On that day, you became sick and were hospitalized.
That’s when the fairytale we lived in began to deteriorate.
I visited you every day for six months.
The doctor said you were becoming more and more sickly. You would die after another month.
My cheeks were soaked in tears after every leave of the hospital.
The entire family came to see you. Another week was left for you to live.
But then that dreaded last day finally arrived. Even I had to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t going to live.
I woke up at three in the morning and stayed with you on your last day. We watched the Late Show with David Letterman and discussed how rude young folks were becoming in this day and age. We listened to Stevie Wonder to make us feel better. I want you to know that it was the best day we’d ever shared.
At 11:58:02 pm, you said you were starting to see the light. I wanted to join you, but it wasn’t my time. I wanted to go with you, but it wasn’t my ride. You said that you’d see me on the other side and it filled me with hope. I held your hand and said I didn’t want our life journey to end. But you said it was only just the beginning for us. Then you left me. Forever.
Every year on February 14th, I go to that local drug store that started it all. I buy the ice cream soda just like I did the first time we met. And whenever I go, I can hear the cheesy words of your voice say in my head, “Will you pinch my arm so I can tell my friends that I’ve been touched by an angel?”
I can’t wait to join you on the other side, Johnny. And start another lifetime with you.
I love you.
With all my heart,