The small country cemetery was deserted that breezy fall day. I walked along the pine tree-lined perimeter, lost in thought. After my husband, Wally, died a year earlier, I didn’t know how I’d go on. I read every grief book, tended to the animals on my farm, went to mass three times a week, but I still glanced out the window every evening, expecting to see Wally’s pickup truck coming round the bend. I couldn’t imagine life without him. I certainly couldn’t imagine falling in love again.
Then I met George. I was in a grief counseling group, sitting in a circle in a church basement with a dozen others, trying to explain how lost I felt. A man beside me listened attentively, nodding along. Tears streamed down his face, like he was sharing in my pain. “I’m George,” he said after the meeting. “Lost my wife of 63 years last year.”
Read More: Match Made in Heaven – Guideposts
Thanks! Share it with your friends!
Tweet
Share
Pin It
LinkedIn
Google+
Reddit
Tumblr