Ha, ha. You thought I was done with this thread. So did I. But my mind swirls with words forming thoughts that always go back to him. After all, fifty-five years of the most amazing, loving and funny memories don't just subside into a quiet place. They keep roaring back every day and I haven't found a way to keep them to myself, nor do I want to. They just spill out like a never-ending waterfall even though I, at times, try to gently tamp them down.
So, I was thinking of all the ways we used to address each other. When we were first married, the most common way we called one another was using Honey or Hon. Those were easy words to slip into. Or we used variations of our names: he became Warrie, I became Remi or Reese. Then we slipped into Love, or as I pictured the word: Luv. We hardly used our given names at all during all those years. When we did use them, it seemed a little strange! And as time went on, we added My Sweetheart and My Sweetie to our repertoire. Of course there were other "pet" names we used that I smile at when remembering but would never reveal them.
All of these were words of the love we felt for each other. "My Darling" came into use much later, especially by me. And now, that loving term gently flits through my mind just about every time I think of him. It's as if it's inscribed on the inside of my heart.
There are actually a lot of things inside my heart. They're what keeps it beating. Beside the words of endearment, there were the gestures, the loving touches as we walked by each other, the shoulder and back rubs, the gentle pushing of my hair back from in front of my eyes, the quick hugs as we passed each other going into another room. There were always reasons and opportunities to touch and they served as a gentle reminder of our love each time.
I am fortunate enough to have saved a lot of his voicemails and in many of them he calls me by those wonderful, endearing names. Along with some videos taken with my cell phone, I can hear his voice whenever I want to and I usually listen several times a week. The sound of his voice gives me comfort and soothes my broken heart for those few fleeting seconds.
The lesson here is: words matter. Speaking lovingly and kindly to each other during all those years brings me warm smiles. But, the one thing I'm really thankful for and brings me a measure of peace were the last words we spoke to each other. We, once again and for the last time, declared our deep love for each other. And that is a memory I cherish beyond measure.
Copyright © 2019 Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.
Monday, November 25, 2019
Well, it seems I'm not done!
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