What are you doing the rest of your life? North and South and East and West of your life? I have only one request of your life —that you spend it all with me.
This is the opening refrain of what I think is one of the most romantic songs ever written. The lyrics were by the widely acclaimed Alan and Marilyn Bergman, and the haunting melody by Michel Legrand. It speaks of an all consuming yearning to be with one’s beloved every second of every minute of every hour of one’s life. Anyone who has felt this kind of deep love understands the emotion in the words, the pain that comes with separation no matter how fleeting or temporary, and the quiet, heartfelt joy of simply being next to one’s beloved.
Many will measure a relationship in the number of years it lasts but I believe that the true measure of love comes in little tender moments and caring gestures, of a hand reaching across the table, or glances exchanged across a crowded room, a whispered “Good night” just before turning out the lights at night, a simple little note tucked in one’s wallet.
A simple little note in one’s wallet—this was what my former wife found in her father’s wallet when she and her mother went through his things a year after he passed away — his death a final punctuation to 66 years of marriage and romance. This is what she wrote about it.
As I fished through the wallet’s compartments, I felt a folded piece of paper. It was brown with age, and about to tear at the creases. I opened it gingerly. It was a note written in mommy’s distinct handwriting. I could hardly read it since it was written in pencil and had started to fade. I read it slowly to mommy. (She had forgotten that she had written it.)
“Darling Sweetheart, I thank the Lord for having given you to me, to love and cherish forever
To care for and comfort, in times of distress and disappointment and to share with Him, the joys and sorrows that come along in life.
And I pray that as we go along together with our children, that we will love each other, to the end of our lives. I LOVE YOU.”
Mommy visits Papa’s grave every day rain or shine. She looks forward to these visits with great anticipation. There, she will always bend to touch his headstone and whisper words of love and sob a little. He was the world to her. Once, she asked if a widow will see her husband in heaven.
Last year, on one of my trips to Washington, DC, I went to visit a friend in nearby Maryland. In their living room, I noticed what looked like a small photo album on their coffee table and asked to look through it. It was a photo and essay album he had prepared for his wife for one of their milestone anniversaries. Next to every photo was printed not a description of the photo but verses relating to his life with her. They met when he was in high school and they got married shortly after he graduated from college. That means they have been together some 48 years! Next to one particularly beautiful photo of his lovely wife were the words, “My life began when I met you.”
His simple words echoed the sentiment expressed in the last poetic lines of Michel Legrand’s masterpiece:
Through all of my life, Summer, Wnter, Spring and Fall of my life
All I ever will recall of my life, is all of my life with you.