Never Throw Diamonds

The morning after my first date with my husband, I was on the phone with my sister.  Girl talk. 

"I can't believe I kissed him!  No, it was only one kiss.  Yes, I know he is practically a stranger, I barely know him.  You know I never do that!  I don't know what happened.  He's not even my type, he is like a cowboy or something....  All of a sudden, he just leaned over and we kissed!  It was a good kiss.  I haven't kissed in a year!  ((giggles))  No, I doubt he will call, it was probably a one time thing, hang on for a sec okay?  There is someone at the door......."  

"Sis?  Oh my God!  You will never believe who was at the door!  Someone delivering roses!  Hang on, let me read the card... It's from him, it says 'Thank You for spending time with me, Love, ~R."  "Yes, they are red!! There is one daisy in the center, they are beautiful!  But, the card said 'Love'.  Uh Oh, it was only one date and one kiss and the card says 'Love'.  No, I don't think he is a stalker!  I hope not.  I'll call you back!"

That was the beginning of all the roses.  He wasn't a stalker, but he did stalk me with a dozen roses every single week for a year.  We went out on several dates, sometimes we went on motorcycle rides, and that one time- I will never forget, when we got brave enough to karaoke for the first time.  I brought my purse up to the stage so we could dash out the door when the song was over.  We sang Leather and Lace. 

I was very reserved about us.  Since I had very small children, I made up a rule that he could not meet my children until we had dated for six-months.  I figured that was good time to get to know someone.  By our third-month together, he told me he loved me.  I never said it back.  Around Christmas time, it was our six-month mark in our relationship and I had fallen deeply in love with him.  That was when I had told him this.  We were right beside the Christmas tree and I gave him his gift.  It was a homemade present.  A picture and a frame.  He handed me my box and I shook it and it sounded like jewelry.  I opened the box and it was a lovely pearl necklace and earring set.  My eyes got all watery and I was so happy for this present.  Every girl loves to get jewelry from a man they love.  It's not so much the jewels as it is the thought behind it.  He laughed at me and I couldn't understand why, until he gave me a separate box, very exquisitely wrapped.  I slowly opened it and this time, I saw a diamond necklace and earrings.  This was a very serious present. I treasured the necklace and always wore it.

As the months passed, the roses kept coming.  I kept wearing my necklace.  I found myself unable to imagine this person not being in my life.  I wanted a future with him.  He met the children, and I met his.  We did everything together.  One day, in Spring, he suddenly told me that he was just going to move on.  We didn't even have a fight, he just told me it was over.  I felt so played by him.  This whole time, I was the reserved one.  I kept it slow.  What did I do?  I got very, very, mad.  Even more mad as I watched him getting into his truck.  I grabbed my jewelry box from Christmas.  The one with the diamond necklace and earrings, opened my window and threw the box out toward his leaving truck.  Then, I went to bed and cried into my pillow.  The end?

A few weeks passed, and I have to say, from all the times I thought I was in love with someone, I never dreamt about them every night.  But, I did with him.  Every single night I dreamt of him.  His best friend was my neighbor, and when we talked he said the only thing he could think of is that he got "cold feet".  After all, he was about 10 years older than me and was divorced from a twenty-year marriage.  Maybe, he just did not want to try again at this point in his life... I contemplated this.  If it was not meant to be, then it's not meant to be.  I felt regret for the box I threw out the window.  I still loved him and he still touched my life, I wished I still had something of his.  At the risk of looking like a crazy lady, I went to  all of my neighbor's homes asking if they happened to find a box of diamonds in the road.  No one had found it.  I even ran an add in the paper with a reward.  But nothing.

One day, I stepped outside to check my mail and saw his truck parked at my neighbors house.  How dare he even drive onto my street!  I then saw that he was in his truck and he pulled into my driveway.  He asked me to get in.  I remember it was sprinkling rain.  My heart was loud in my chest and I hoped he couldn't hear it.  He talked to me, he told me his fears.  He told me he was scared.  I watched the rain drops run down the window as he talked.  Then, he told me, "Happy Valentine's Day."  He handed me a box.  I unwrapped it and it was a beautiful rose-wood box.  So pretty.  I cried because the box was beautiful.  He laughed and said the box was not the present and to open it.  I opened the box and there was the earrings and necklace I had thrown into the road.  He explained that they are not the originals.  He had heard what I had done and went back to the jeweler.  They did not carry my necklace and earrings anymore.  He had them recreate an exact duplicate.  Who does that?  My man did. 

If you read my blog, many of our personal stories sound as though our Love was perfect.  I really wanted to write this to let you know that our love was not always perfect.  We had a lot of passion and with that comes ups and downs.  We grew together.  I always wondered who ended up with my original set.  It was a good lesson for me to learn as there were many times in our marriage that he upset me.  But, I never, ever, threw something from his heart away. No, our love was not perfect, but I can say, it was real. 

xoxo

Things He Did

Thinking about my husband today.  He had very soft blonde hair.  It was silky and curled around my fingers.  He kept it a little on the long side, the back of his hair just touching his collar.  He parted it in the middle.  I used to suggest he try a different part and he would let me play with it in the mirror.  I would try parting it from the side and we would just laugh and laugh because it just wasn't normal for him to look that way. 

I have mentioned his laugh lines.  They were fine and tender.  They gave the appearance of wisdom and kindness, framed around his knowing blue eyes.  A blue that was like the sky on a summer day, with little glimmers and sparkles, like when the sun catches on water. 

His hands and arms were very strong.  His skin was golden, highlighted by the light hair that glistened on his arms and down to his wrists.  I always thought he had very thoughtful wrists and I loved to rub my fingers along his wrist to those big strong hands.  We used to put our hands against each other's and his fingers would tower over mine.  This used to amuse him and he would say, "Just look at what a little girl you are!"  When he picked out my wedding ring and placed it on my finger for the first time, it was a perfect fit.  I wondered how he knew my ring size and he told me it was easy, he just tried it on his pinky-finger. 

Everywhere we went, no matter what.  He would jump out of the truck and literally run over to my side to open my door and let me out.  He always opened every door for me.  At first, I was not used to this, but over the years it became something I did not think about. I just got used to it.  But, I am sure he thought about it, since he was the one doing it and for that, I think it was very sweet. 

It was the same way when we walked together.  Most often, he would grab my hand and tuck it into the crook of his folded arm.  There were times when we were mad at each other.  We could be really, really mad at each other, but when it came time to walk somewhere I would wait to see if he would grab my hand, and he most always did.  There were a couple of times, he did not reach for my hand, so I would reach for his.  That usually ended our arguments.

When we dined out we always asked for a booth.  We always sat on the same side of the booth.  Even if it was just us, alone.  We could sit and talk, or sit in silence, but we always sat side-by-side.  Now, when I go out and see an older couple sitting on the same side of the table, it makes me smile and think of him.

At night, I usually laid my head upon his shoulder.  Never mind whatever happened that day.  The problems of the world just melted away, being lulled by his arm around me and the sound of his breathing.  When it came to actual sleep, we were not spooners.  We preferred our own little space in bed.  Just before the lights went out, even if I were half asleep, he would say, " I Love You" and kiss me.  Then we would roll over, facing in opposite directions; but our feet, beneath the blankets, always touched. 

His wedding ring, I wear beneath my own wedding ring.  It is loose and wiggly there, but my ring on top of it keeps it snug.  I do not know the etiquette of a widow wearing her wedding ring.  To me it really doesn't matter.  I think I would feel lost without it.