A few nights ago while at my desk, a piece of paper fell to the ground. Not unusual. My desk is a disaster area most of the time. I reached down to pick it up and froze. There in my hand was a note...from Sean...from Valentine's Day 1996. It read: "I love you very much. I am pretty lucky to have someone as special as you in my life. See ya when I get home. Love, Sean."
Cue the tears.
Sean had his faults--as did I (as do I, present tense)--but the man was a romantic. He used to leave notes for me in my briefcase, my lunch bag, or on my steering wheel almost every day while I worked out of the home. Holidays were a major event for him. Actually, any random day would be a big event if he wanted it to be. I can't count the times he'd show up from work with an armful of flowers "just because". He duplicated my wedding bouquet each anniversary. He told me that he loved me every day--even on that last day of his life.
Here's the weird thing about that note: I have a new desk. I have moved my office from one room to another in the past 6 years and 9 months. I'm constantly organizing and tossing things out. So where did it come from? Why now? Why haven't I noticed it in all these years?
Sometimes the Universe--or our Angels--send us little reminders. In this case, I am reminded of what it felt like to be loved. I'm reminded that I should never settle for less than that. I'm reminded that I deserve love, respect and intimacy again.
Maybe I don't know much about "dating" per se, but I know a lot about love and relationships. I had it. I lost it. I miss it.
Time doesn't heal all wounds. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever stop crying over that man. He's been gone now for almost 7 years. I'm dating someone else. I've moved on in so many ways. Yet out falls a note from our first Valentine's Day as a married couple and I am in tears for the rest of the night. Maybe people who've never loved another with that intensity simply don't understand that death is not the end. Love doesn't stop despite the vows that say, "til death do us part." Believe me, it would be easier if it did.
Someone commented on one of my posts that I shouldn't tell people I'm a widow. I believe her words were "Let me give you some dating advice: drop the word widow." To me, that's incomprehensible. I will not deny that I loved once--that I was loved once. I will not pretend my marriage didn't exist simply because it makes people feel more...what?...at ease? When I look at sexy screenwriter boy, I am not comparing him to Sean--I'm not, I swear. He's his own person. He knows I'm a widow. If he didn't--and if he never asked exactly how I came to have two children--I'd worry. Yes, I fell in love with a tall, blond, blue-eyed boy in my 20s. We loved each other with an intensity that bordered on insanity. He died...a long time ago. Now I'm moving on in my indelicate, brash, and awkward way.
Seeing Sean's handwriting again after all of this time was a shock. I stared at it for a minute trying to comprehend that this was real and not some dream. My hand shook as I read it again and again, remembering that day like it was present tense. It was a good day...good memories. I'd like to think this note falling to the floor was an angelic reminder saying, "Amber, you deserve love like this again. Don't settle for less."
About Moxie Girl Musings
Moxie Girl Musings is about starting over from square one after tragedy impacted my young family. It's filled with stories of triumph, struggle, snafus, hopes, and dreams. Sometimes there will be features from other writers that I like and every so often I'll include an original short story, but normally I simply write what's on my mind at the time. Welcome to my unfiltered true-life story as I figure out this thing called life. http://www.amberleaeaston.com