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A LOVE STORY by Michael J. Groetsch Kenner LA
The elderly couple entered the restaurant almost inconspicuously. Had it not been for the sweetness of their conversation and demeanor, they would have drawn no attention. She sat in a wheelchair dressed in a dark black blouse, skirt, and patent leather shoes that rose to the ankles. The overhead lights gave her snow-white hair a bluish tint. Walking with the aid of an oak- colored cane, a frail man with thick glasses proudly pushed her through the cafeteria line as if she were his new bride. “Honey,” she asked affectionately, “would you please order me the baked chicken and a glass of water?” “Yes, dear,” he responded. “Is there anything else that I can get for you?” “A fruit salad would also be nice. The doctor suggested that I watch my diet.” As they stood in line awaiting their food selections, he touched her right shoulder with hands that appeared to be the work of Van Gogh. Dark colored veins with light blue highlights protruded and radiated erratically around his fingers and wrists. Although his hands were discolored and distorted by years of aging, they were still capable of conveying his most intimate and caring thoughts. As he rubbed his wrinkled fingers through her thinning hair, she smiled and whispered, “ I love you.” A young man in a green sports shirt with the cafeteria’s name prominently printed beneath his left shoulder ushered the couple to their table. “It’s always a pleasure to help you, Mr. and Mrs. Hymel. If there is anything else that you may need, please feel free to ask.” As the valet removed the food from the tray and arranged it in front of the couple, the elderly man placed a napkin on his wife’s lap and gently kissed her forehead. Intentionally sitting in the dinner booth next to theirs, I found myself wanting to hear more. I felt a sense of envy in witnessing such intimacy. How long have they been married, I wondered? Did they have children? Grandchildren? As I discreetly listened to their conversation, it became apparent that their life together would soon come to an end. She had been diagnosed with cancer and her doctor made her aware that she probably would not see another Christmas. While eating dinner, in an obvious attempt to experience closure in her relationship with the man whom she had shared her life, she began to express herself with the elegance of a polished gem. “Honey, I will miss you so very much. We have had 62 wonderful years together. You have always been my best friend. Although I will soon be physically absent from your life, the essence of who I am will be forever echoed through our children and their children’s children. When they cry, they will be shedding my tears. When they speak, they will be uttering my words. When they touch you, you will feel my presence. When they embrace you, you will feel my warmth. When you look into their eyes, you will see my reflection. While death may separate our bodies, it will never separate our souls.” Tears began to well in the old man’s eyes. Each time that his wife took a bite of her food, he gently wiped her lips with a soft napkin. He touched her cheek with his left hand. His eyes met hers as their souls reaffirmed a oneness. As I witnessed such uninhibited intimacy between the aging couple, images of my own wife and family began to race through my mind like a family video. I suddenly anticipated seeing them, touching them and embracing them. The open display of love that the couple had expressed in my presence made me painfully aware of how much we take life for granted. So often, we ignore those things most important to us. The old man and his wife departed the restaurant in the same manner that they entered, almost inconspicuously. He took the napkin from her lap, wiped her aging brow, and kissed her forehead. Pulling her wheelchair from the table’s edge, with cane in hand, he began to push his wife to the exit. Wanting to hear more of their story, I quietly followed until they reached their silver gray Buick with a handicapped license plate. As he carefully lifted her from the wheelchair and placed her on the front seat like an injured sparrow, she softly said, “I never wanted to be a burden to you.” “You have never been a burden, sweetheart. You are my strength. You are my princess. You are my soul. I love you, Mary.” “I love you too, Henry. I love you, too.” “IT’S BETTER TO HAVE LOVED AND LOST, THAN TO NEVER HAVE LOVED AT ALL.” Alfred, Lord Tennyson
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