What a week. My husband called his grandmother this past Sunday night to say hello. She informed him Helen’s husband, Vernon, had passed away and the funeral would be Tuesday.
Helen is a very dear woman who’s one of Grandma’s cousins. She’s one of those always smiling, upbeat sorts who showers warmth and kindness on everyone she comes into contact with.
Since she’s also older, closer to Wayne’s grandma’s age (mid-80s), I was under the impression she and Vernon had been married decades. Well, technically they had, 20 years, but I thought it was closer to 60+ like Grandma and Grandpa. Nope. While talking to my brother-in-law Keith, he filled me in on Vernon and Helen’s love story.
They had known each other since kindergarten. Keith thinks they were even sweethearts once upon a time. But instead of marrying at a young age, Vernon felt it was his duty to live with and take care of his mother.
Helen ended up marrying someone else, but always kept in touch with Vernon. Her husband died some years back, and when Vernon was in his 60s his mother died. That left them free to finally marry.
They spent the rest of the next 20 years traveling together and trying to make up for lost time. If you ever had the pleasure of meeting them, you would have seen how successful they were. They could always be seen holding hands, exchanging private glances, and smiling happily.
Vernon had been trying to recover from a recent surgery, but apparently it got the best of him. Once again Helen finds herself separated from her beloved. But this time it’s in the most permanent and heart wrenching of manners. One no lovers should ever have to endure.
But later Sunday night, after Wayne talked to his grandma, she suffered a heart attack. Luckily they called 9-1-1 in the nick of time and the right measures were taken to save her. She’s doing better now.
The first couple days of this week, however, were scary. For some reason everyone assumed Grandpa would go before her. Everyone was prepared for that scenario –including Grandpa –not for this one.
All of it got me to thinking about how lucky both Vernon and Helen, and Grandma and Grandpa have been. Vernon and Helen to finally have had time to celebrate their love. Grandma and Grandpa to have spent over 65 years together.
Because when it’s gone, it happens so suddenly. Whether you’ve been married one year, 10, 20, or 65, it’s never going to be enough. You’d always want one more day, one more minute, one more moment to spend with them.
I know I would. I’d always want to hold Wayne’s hand, kiss his lips, murmur “I love you,” and hold him tight just one more time before we had to part for good. And I’d cherish that moment for eternity.
Since I don’t know if I’ll ever be so lucky to know when that last moment is coming, it’s why I try my very hardest to cherish each one I do get with him. And why I always hold his hand, murmur “I love you,” and hold him tight each time we part.
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