Until Then

I sit alone in a room in the house where we shared laughter and love.  We had joy with each other.  We had fullness when our children were near.  Don't you recall how we would gather around the piano and sing while our daughter played.  We had fences to keep the horses in but there were none to keep the  neighbors out.  Neighbor's children were like our own.  Thirty or more people in our house and yard on some summer nights with cakes and pies on the bar and three ice cream freezers turning on the patio.  On Thanksgiving it was standing room only at our home as we Thanked our God for His outpouring of blessings.


We spent a lot of time on the road; just short trips to visit or to the lake: usually singing as we traveled.  Anyone would lead off with a song and we would all join in.  I'll never forget the night the kids got out of the camper without me knowing when I stopped for gasoline and I left them at Davis, OK.  The police department treated them so good they probably wished I would leave them again.  Then there was the time we went to Juarez and Nancy got too close to a cactus near White City, NM. That's the trip when I pulled off onto a ranch to spend the night and the cattle encircled us.


That first trip we took with the pickup and camper, we went to Robbers Cave.  I was very tired and we just parked downwind from some restrooms.  You and the girls slept in the camper but Michael and I slept on the ground.  A light rain was falling and Michael and I covered our heads  - - -  to escape the odor, not the rain.  The nights you and I spent in the camper or a tent while the sound of raindrops lulled us to sleep.  Were we silly for enjoying hikes in the warm spring showers?  I wonder if other couples ever did that?


When we were first married, I got a tiny pair of combat boots for you and you looked so cute when we went mountain climbing.  I think the supply sergeant was glad to get rid of the boots; there was a shortage of soldiers who wore size four.  We had nothing but each other and a measly Sergeants pay that most folks today would not believe.  We had each other and asked nothing more.  I guess the Army would have been my career if you hadn't pulled that trick on me two years later.  He sure was cute when he was born and it was almost a miracle that I was able to be home on that weekend.  I only hitchhiked five hundred miles to get there.  They gave you a hypo and you were insisting that your mother and I should sing.


Two girls followed the son, then another son.  Shadows were gathering in our fairy tale life.  First that crippling rheumatic fever that sometimes rendered you helpless and in intense pain.  Next came the cancer and mastectomy.  I'm thankful for the three or so years we were able to enjoy together and that trip I call our 'Last Honeymoon' when you and I took the camper and went to Lake Wister and drove over Talimena drive.  God gave you some relief that night.  I fixed a little dinner that we enjoyed together.  You said there was room for me to lay beside you on the divan.  There was.


Cancer came back with a vengeance and the final battle was on.  It was raining as the medics carried you to the front door the last time and they started to cover your face.  You said, "Please, no.  I want to feel the rain once more."  Nineteen days in the hospital and your battle ended.  I never left you in that time except to bath and change cloths.


Life has been good to me since that time with our children and my friends.  I've been able to retire and do some of the things I always wanted to do.  I've seen beautiful places and had great experiences; always while missing you.


One day, we'll stroll in the rain once more and we'll see that 'Rainbow in Heaven' that John wrote about in Revelations.  For now, it's my task to carry on and use the opportunities God gives me.  By His provision, I am never truly alone but I'll keep loving you and missing you - - Until Then.