Moments to Remember
January 25, 2008

I was married to Jean for over fifty-two years. We celebrated each and every anniversary with whatever gift we could afford at the time and, most important to Jean, a card that had been thoughtfully selected. That was more important than any gift. We usually went to dinner at a nice restaurant, and after a toast to each other with everything from diet Coca-Cola in the early years to champagne in the later years, we would inevitably at some point reach across the table and hold hands as we spoke and reaffirmed our love for each other.
She has been gone now for two years, and I am hard put to remember a single restaurant where we went, or any of the cards or gifts that we exchanged.
About twelve years ago, just before we retired, we purchased a Maltese dog, which we named Lilliput. She very quickly wormed her way into Jean's heart and was, and still is, a cherished pet. We sat on the back porch a few weeks later and I held the dog in my lap as I petted and spoke baby talk to her. She was extremely timid, very afraid of everything from loud noises to sudden movements. At one point I decided to put her down so she could wander about. As I lifted her from my lap she tensed up and stiffened all four legs, so I very slowly bent forward and lowered her in tiny increments toward the floor. I could feel her body relax as she descended, and when her paws touched, I very softly released her. It was then I heard Jean’s voice from above me, barely above a whisper, and with a tinge of self-consciousness. “I love you,” she said. It was one of the moments like that of our lives that I will never forget.