Promises To

I was alone this morning when I read about Sven and Boel.

The memorable couple owned Captain Andy’s, a small restaurant, in the village where I once lived for 57 years. It was also where I dined religiously every Friday night.

When I recalled the many evenings spent there, I realized I could not remember ever being alone

Ritually every Friday, it was always the same table for two I shared with my life’s companion,

Unexpectedly today, their obituary brought back another one almost fourteen years ago.

On a sunlit morning as we sat together reading our combined mail, my husband looked up from the letter he held and told me,

“Joan and Jim Mitchell died two weeks apart.”

The Mitchells were our friends, seemingly forever..

We met as newlyweds, sans of furniture or belongings, but rich in love, dreams and anticipation.

We were part of a small group of expatriate New Yorkers all who had recently relocated to the Midwest.

The new husbands were federal employees, in a department then still in esteem. All four young couples had been married less than six months,

We were blissfully unaware of our fleeting youth, and the mounting responsibilities hidden in the nebulous future. It was still our moment in the sun to laugh and love and not recognize worry.

Then on an August morning four decades later, I sat quietly and listened to the man I loved and shared my life with, as he continued:

“Joan and Jim were lucky. They traveled together.”

Quickly, I nodded in agreement and left the room before he could see the tears.

I suppose I can now admit, we were both living in a time of pretense, or dishonesty.

I unfailingly pretended he was, if not recovering, still hopeful he would soon.

He knew better and pretended everyday was easier.

We both knew the truth, but until that moment frozen in time when we read of our old friends demise denied it.

Now ever so many lonely moons later, a notice about others leaving together resurrects the precise moment we shared our truth.

And yes, our four friends, Joan, Jim, Boel and Sven were indeed lucky, but our path, for His own reason was to be different,

And, also, lonelier for those of us who still had promises to keep.