Never, never to know how I loved you.
Five years ago, almost to the day. Rich was having some pain in his shoulder, but it couldn't be serious. He was too healthy, too strong, I couldn't imagine...
Still, I knew something.
Carousel was playing (I'm the Broadway fan, not Rich) and If I Loved You began.
He was ironing his shirts. I had to hug him, and I couldn't stop crying.
This was not my normal behavior.
"Oh, you love me so much," he said, momentarily putting down the iron.
"No, no, not enough, and now you're going to leave me, and you'll never know..."
I sounded silly, I knew; there was no reason for my outburst, but suddenly all our years together compressed into a day with barely an hour remaining, and how could I not have known what I had, what I took so much for granted...
"We'll have lots more years," Rich said, hugging me back.
He was lying, but didn't know it.
I don't cry much in front of Rich these days, though the buckets are filled at night.
He worries about me living without him. I assure him I'll be fine.
But I'm lying, and he knows it.
Candace
2 comments:
Candace, my heart is aching. I want to say something and I have nothing, except that I love you!
Thinking with love about you and Rich....
I am with Sarah. There simply are no adequate words except words of love, and an offer to hold the bucket for your tears. Weeping with you, and sending you and Rich all our love, now and always, ~Ann and Jason
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