One day I had the pleasure of meeting this 94 year old woman at the park by the lake where I live. She seemed happy and interesting so I sat to chat with her for a while. She had a notebook she was pondering over while she sat.
Turns out she was alone in life. She had given birth to one son who had lived a full 75 years but had recently passed away after a long battle with Cancer. She had lost the love of her life too – her husband of 70 years, only a few months prior.
I asked her how she met her husband. She told me a love story that will stay with me forever.
She was 15 years old and had recently moved from England to Canada with her Mother, Father and older siblings. Her siblings were already out of school and working by the time they reached Canada but she was still eager to learn. With the family’s resources tied up in the move her schooling was paid for by a teacher that she had left in England who she had been a star student of.
After about a year in Canada she received a letter from a young gentleman a few years older than her. He too was a former student of the teacher who had helped her with her schooling and he was considering a move to Canada to look for work and start a life. He asked her simply to tell him about Canada so as to help make the transition easier for him if and when it did happen.
She wrote him 3 letters in total, and he wrote her 2 more in return. This transpired over the course of 2-3 years until she was 18.
She had read and re-read his letters so often they were tattered and torn. They spoke of their dreams in life and what they aspired to accomplish, what they were passionate about. By the summer of her 18th year, she longed every minute for her penpal friend to arrive in Canada. She knew not exactly when he would arrive, but she lived in anticipation of the moment. Then one day, she was out in her back garden on a beautiful summer day, not unlike that day in the park where we sat.
This strikingly dashing man had paid visit to her father and was coming out to introduce himself. It was her love – he asked her to marry him and she delightfully accepted.
A full life of love commenced with neither of them doubting for a single moment whether they were meant to be together. Their son had never married – claiming he could never find a love like the one he was exposed to through his life so he preferred to not settle for something less.
As she told me this story on this beautiful day my heart swept through so many different emotions. I thought about writing and how powerful a medium to the soul it can be. I thought about expectations and dreams for a better future and I thought about love. If everyone had that kind of love in his or her lives we would not have wars, we would not have famine, we would not be concerned about the future of Planet Earth. We would just be love and love would be us. Only good would flow from this love. Only good can.
As I prepared to leave our conversation I asked her what she was writing – thinking she must be journaling. It turns out that she had decided she was going to write to her husband now that they were apart again. She saw this time as the other side of the story where now he has to wait for her to arrive.
I bid the lady adieu with the gift of never ending love in my heart.
Turns out she was alone in life. She had given birth to one son who had lived a full 75 years but had recently passed away after a long battle with Cancer. She had lost the love of her life too – her husband of 70 years, only a few months prior.
I asked her how she met her husband. She told me a love story that will stay with me forever.
She was 15 years old and had recently moved from England to Canada with her Mother, Father and older siblings. Her siblings were already out of school and working by the time they reached Canada but she was still eager to learn. With the family’s resources tied up in the move her schooling was paid for by a teacher that she had left in England who she had been a star student of.
After about a year in Canada she received a letter from a young gentleman a few years older than her. He too was a former student of the teacher who had helped her with her schooling and he was considering a move to Canada to look for work and start a life. He asked her simply to tell him about Canada so as to help make the transition easier for him if and when it did happen.
She wrote him 3 letters in total, and he wrote her 2 more in return. This transpired over the course of 2-3 years until she was 18.
She had read and re-read his letters so often they were tattered and torn. They spoke of their dreams in life and what they aspired to accomplish, what they were passionate about. By the summer of her 18th year, she longed every minute for her penpal friend to arrive in Canada. She knew not exactly when he would arrive, but she lived in anticipation of the moment. Then one day, she was out in her back garden on a beautiful summer day, not unlike that day in the park where we sat.
This strikingly dashing man had paid visit to her father and was coming out to introduce himself. It was her love – he asked her to marry him and she delightfully accepted.
A full life of love commenced with neither of them doubting for a single moment whether they were meant to be together. Their son had never married – claiming he could never find a love like the one he was exposed to through his life so he preferred to not settle for something less.
As she told me this story on this beautiful day my heart swept through so many different emotions. I thought about writing and how powerful a medium to the soul it can be. I thought about expectations and dreams for a better future and I thought about love. If everyone had that kind of love in his or her lives we would not have wars, we would not have famine, we would not be concerned about the future of Planet Earth. We would just be love and love would be us. Only good would flow from this love. Only good can.
As I prepared to leave our conversation I asked her what she was writing – thinking she must be journaling. It turns out that she had decided she was going to write to her husband now that they were apart again. She saw this time as the other side of the story where now he has to wait for her to arrive.
I bid the lady adieu with the gift of never ending love in my heart.