In 2020, when we moved Mom to memory care I wrote this blog entitled A Great Love. It was a tribute to the love I witnessed between my parents and how their devotion to each other impacted everyone around them.

Now they celebrate their Great Love every day. I can’t imagine. What is it like to stand in the presence of Love himself? The one who radiates love in ways that require no words? And to be together in such a place? The place in which your love was born? It must be glorious. A whole new dimension. To know in full, rather than in part.

I see them. Gazing at each other. Like they did here. Looking into one another. Together. Two parts of a whole. I know they are beyond time now. Anniversary dates are no longer a measuring stick of lasting love. Yet, I am not there, so I still track time as if nothing has changed. Today is their 66^th anniversary. They were only apart for one before Mom pulled Dad over into her arms. He didn’t want to leave us, but he couldn’t resist seeing her whole again. He didn’t want to be separated from her any longer. And how could I want any different for them? I couldn’t. I can only ask for glimpses, to remind me I am not of this world. That there is a reality beyond what I can see. More real than the ground under my feet. And they are there.

My grief is not for them. It is for me. Remembering them and their cute ways. Their playfulness with each other. I even miss their bickering. Their laughter together was always so relaxed. Joyful. Silly even. Certainly, they were a match made in heaven. And the joy they carried in being together spilled over to the rest of us. That is what I miss most, I think. The overflow. Being with them, when they were being together. Sitting as a witness to this Great Love. There is a void now. We spent so much time together these last years, there is a big empty spot. That is the hard part. Wanting to go and see. Having to imagine instead.

In Mom’s last days, her lack of communication wasn’t a deterrent for Dad. He could communicate and reach her no matter her state. It was their connection that spoke for him. The decades of being together created a kind of secret language between them. He could read her like a book. No words exchanged. He KNEW her and she KNEW him. To the very end. She knew him, when she didn’t know any of the rest of us.

I miss watching him care for her. He did such an amazing job. He was tender. He was a bulldog. When she needed something, he got it for her. He demonstrated his love with action. His love language was…fix it! Now! He took care of all of us that way. But that tender side was everything. His heart was breaking watching his beloved slip away. After her death, that bond didn’t lessen a bit. He continued to plug along, making the best of things…but the pain became more acute with the separation.

When it came his time to go, he didn’t want that for us. No slipping away bit by bit, just get it over with. Now. Once he knew it was time, he was signaling us in every way he could. Get these machines off of me and let me go be with Mom.

Now, he is there with her. We are here without them. We celebrate their 66^th knowing if it hadn’t been for all the previous years, we would not be who we are. All because they showed their love to one another, so we could see it. Such a simple thing. Such an easy uncomplicated way to make an difference. I am sure they didn’t think of that way…I probably didn’t either until now. It’s true that the simplest actions make the biggest impact.  Their Great Love is evidence of that fact.

Happy Anniversary you love birds. We miss you so much, but are overjoyed that you are together where you belong.