I saw his truck as we drove up. But I didn't know who it belonged to. Then I could see him in the far back corner as we walked to the gate. But I didn't recognize him. I felt as though we were intruding, and that we should leave, but it was a public place, and we were not going to be anywhere near where he was.
When he noticed us, he got up to leave. I watched him from the corner of my eye. My heart grieving with him before I even knew his story. Someone with me recognized him, and whispered to me that she knew who he was. He continued about halfway across the Cemetary grounds, and then he stopped.
He stopped, and turned around.
It still breaks my heart to think of him stopping and turning around to gaze one last time at her grave.
I fought tears for him that day. His love for her was SO obvious to me, a complete stranger. The fact that he missed her almost more than he could bear was also very evident.
We waited for him to leave, and then walked back to her grave. She passed away over a year before, if my memory serves me right...and still...he stopped, and looked back.
I think that says a lot about his love for her, but it also says volumes about the kind of lady she must have been.
The person that was with me recognized him; they attended the same church as he did. We even spoke briefly with him at the evening service that same night.
Then we talked to his daughter, who told us that when her mother was alive, her mother and father did everything together, and that he visited her grave almost daily. Wow. That is love and devotion. And I can just see him each and every day stopping at about the same spot...and looking back.
I have heard that love is the irresistible influence. And in today's society, where so many confuse love with lust, and relationships are thrown away at the drop of a hat, a story of true, long lasting, love and devotion is like a drink of water to a thirsty soul.
I want to have deep, meaningful relationships with those God has placed in my life. I want to love, and be loved with a love that looks back.
I Corinthians 13
Through Facebook, I received a friend request from a lady I did not know. I could tell by our mutual friends that it would be okay to accept her request. I did, and then went to her page to see her picture a little better. I realized that she was the daughter to the gentleman in this blog. I immediately messaged her to tell her that I had written a blog about her father. I asked her to read it, and to let me know if there was anything that she was not okay with. If she was not pleased in any way, I would take the blog down. She quickly messaged me back to let me know that she had already read the blog, and that is why she asked me to be her friend, so she could tell me thank you for writing it. Unknown to me, my sister-in-law had printed it out, and taken it to her father at church. He read it, and gave it to his daughter. She made more copies to share with other family members. She told me in her message, that her father had a copy of it framed beside a picture of her mother. How precious is that! I am extremely honored that they were honored by it. Especially when I never even dreamed that they would ever read it. Sometimes I wonder why I write, if it even matters, and this helped me see that it does matter. Maybe not to the masses, but at least to a few.