71

My husband.  My quiet, thoughtful, brilliant husband.

We don’t often gush over each other publicly or on social media, but exceptional talent and beautiful expression must be shared.  (He is probably cringing at my use of the word ‘gush.’)

Danny wrote this piece following the death of my grandma Virgie and I am grateful (albeit shocked) that he has allowed me to share it here.  If you are prone to tears, best not to read this in public.

 

71

71 years

A lifetime together

To love

To learn

To live

For one another.

His heart

His rock

His life

Went away

He knew it would come,

just not the day.

 

Oh, what a gift

71 would be.

The kids,

the grandbabies,

all the beauty we’d see.

71 is a lifetime to be,

But after 17

I can see

one lifetime’s not enough

for me.

 

Just kids when they met

fell quickly for each other.

Through time and chance,

and circumstance,

great forces

bound them together.

One ship they would board

on the vast open sea.

Together they promised to be.

Through wind and rain,

and sunny days,

for life and eternity.

 

Don’t let go of me

Don’t let go of me

Don’t let go of me

One lifetime’s not enough for me.

 

Years and kids

hustle and busy

She, his partner in crime.

Their lives, no longer

only their own.

He only wished

they had a little more time.

He never thought

it could be so

’cause he loved her more

than she’d ever know

but that love had grown

to uncontainable size.

It overflowed

with every thought of her

with mist in his eyes.

 

Don’t let go of me

Don’t let go of me

Don’t let go of me

One lifetime’s not enough for me.

 

The end is near.

He can barely see

or hear.

He can hardly walk on his own.

Though he’s losing his sight

she is a light,

a guide, a song, and a home.

Getting hard to speak.

Don’t know what she’s saying

but that old familiar hand

and the spark

that runs through it

is the anchor that holds.

This is love.

They always knew it.

 

Don’t let go of me

Don’t let go of me

Don’t let go of me

One lifetime’s not enough for me.

 

He sits in his chair

above the stone

that bears their names

as dirt falls

on his love’s remains.

My anchor is gone.

My ship’s floating

out to sea.

Don’t know where I am going.

In the fog

I cannot see.

When my journey

is done

and this ship goes

to rest

I don’t know

where I will be.

But please say you’ll be waiting for me.

 

Oh, what a gift

71 would be.

The kids,

the grandbabies,

all the beauty we’d see.

But after 17,

I can see

One lifetime’s not enough

for me.