October 20, 2002
It is hard to know where to begin to say goodbye after all we have been through together. When you died last night I was relieved that you were no longer bound up in such horrible, even unspeakable, torment. And yet, I am terribly heartbroken that I am now without you and that all our dreams and hopes for our life together are forever put to rest. I had agonized over your state during the last three years as you progressively lost your ability to move or speak. To have heard the sweet sound of your soft voice once more or to have felt your passionate embrace once again was my greatest yearning. "I love you, Jeff", was lost from your silenced lips long ago, and yet you still "looked at me" with those words. My heart felt it and cherished every sparkle in your eyes that echoed your love. Though I have never stopped loving you, fatigue and heartache so often muted the expression of my passion for you. I do remember well the times when I lifted your head to look into your eyes, and told you that I loved you and that you were still beautiful to me. Sometimes you would laugh and just roll your eyes. Other times you would silently cry as I cradled your face against mine while our tears mixed together on your cheeks. I did not lie to you on those occasions - you always remained beautiful to me and I still love you yet. Even while you were weak and immobile, you would often look at me through teary eyes and smile beautifully - those very eyes saying that you still loved me. And I felt privileged.
We shared many tears together, most of them joyful. I remember the times we hugged and laughed tearfully, just because we were together! And how we both cried during our wedding vows - I was reduced to sobbing whispers just to say the words. We stared at one another as I began, "I Jeff, ta�" and we were both crying! Some of the very best tears were those we shared when both Joshua and Jacob were born. I cannot express the depth my joy when holding them for the first time, drenched in the epiphany that my sons were from you. And leaning down to embrace you only moments after each birth, to tell you through a sobbing little voice, "He's a boy, and he's perfect! I love you, Jenny!" I had found in you the personification of joy and for the first time, I understood what being in love meant. Even the words in love songs meant something to me now, as I actually understood what the writer was trying to say. Such joy with you, such completeness of who I am in our melding of spirits and the mystery of becoming one with you! It was all so short, much too brief for me to have ever been satisfied. Instead of being one with you and abiding in that completeness, I am now broken and hollow where you once lived in me. My tears are plentiful and are all sadness now.
I miss you, Jenny. I have for a long time. These were very, very hard years caring for you, but I did keep my promise to you - that I would never send you away to a facility - no matter how hard it was going to be to keep you at home. Though I am so fallible and I struggled so much tending to your needs, I still loved you every moment as I do even now. It was so hard to watch you slip away. Joshua was there with us when you died, he held your hand and prayed with me. He was scared and afterwards he cried some. I told him that you were now with Jesus and he understands that you are now free, having attained the goal of your faith. Afterwards, I told him to marry a girl like his mother, that is, to marry his best friend. Jacob, bless his heart, slept through the whole thing. This morning I told him that you had left to be with Jesus, which he is tying to understand. He marvels at the glory of heaven and knows that you are now restored beyond what we can even imagine. The faith of a child, its honesty and purity, is splendid indeed. He asked me later what would happen to Joshua and him if I died and was also gone. It was a wonderful opportunity to reassure him and tell him about God's promises to bless us. They both said they missed you. That hurts so much to hear, knowing I can do nothing about it.
You were so much of my being that with you, I believed I could do and be anything. We both really liked what we heard during our wedding concerning the sharing of our lives together, "The joyous time will be twice as happy and the hard times will be twice as easy." It was true. But today, losing you is hard - it is in fact twice as hard without you. And the happy things are vacant of joy in your absence. I miss you so much and my heart bursts just to see your smile once more and to have you "sparkle" your eyes at me saying, "I still love you, Jeff." My God, I do miss you.
Goodbye Jenny, my first and purest love.
October 20, 2002