I poked my head in the window of the car. “What’s for lunch?” That day lunch was a homemade pimento cheese sandwich and diet coke. “What’s for dessert?” That day as well as all days, dessert was a kiss from the girl he loved, and his eyes twinkled when he said it. I blushed a bit and said, “That’s more than I want to know,” and walked off with my lunch girls. He parked there every day. His “love” came out the side door of work and walked toward the car. He jumped out of the car, walked around and opened the car door for her. They drove across the road to the parking lot or to the City Park and shared their lunch under a shade tree where they parked. When he brought her back, she waited until he opened the door for her to return to work.
For a couple of days, I noticed the car was not there at its usual time. Then someone asked, “Have you heard?” Cancer. A form of leukemia. He was immediately admitted to the hospital and administered intense treatments. She told me, “If he’s feeling better on Sunday, we are going to get married in the hospital.” Sunday came, but also fever and sickness. He was not better. In just a matter of days, he was gone.
Memories flooded her mind. Her heart was broken. This wasn’t the first time she had mourned. She lost her husband seven years earlier, his life stripped from him from a similar form of leukemia. The memories were too fresh. It was as if the reels of a movie replayed all over again.
It was years after her husband died when a gentleman she had known for some time, a widower, set his affections on her. She is very naïve, and didn’t believe it when her coworkers said, “He’s sweet on you.” She thought he brought sweets for all of them, but it was evident his eyes were only on her. She finally consented to go out with him. Years were erased. Walls of grief were torn down. Once again, she was a giddy teenager finding a first love. Giggles, smiles, and dreams escaped from her spirit and her lips. She glowed and her cheeks blushed at just the mention of his name.
I watched her suffer the loss of the man she had come to love, her second love, the one who doted on her and showered her with affection. Though my heart was broken for her, I could not help but think how fortunate she was to have been so loved, not once, but twice. She married her first love right out of high school. Her second love came after years of grief. It was a breath of fresh air, sweet and pure.
Her faith in God sustains her and her spirits are lifted by a soft breeze whispering memories of those whom she loved.
❤❤❤❤