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.