I've never said much about Myra except in passing. Myra was a manager at a store I serviced in Jamestown, NY, many years ago. She was tiny, with curly dark brown hair and freckles on an ivory-pale face. Her husband, John, worked there, too. He was maybe five-ten or eleven, built like a wide receiver with thick sandy hair and striking blue eyes set in a ruddy Irish face. Both were so shy it was hard to get to know them. One thing was certain. Myra loved John.
When my job in Jamestown ended, so did the coffee klatsches with Myra. When I next saw her some years later, she greeted me like an old friend. They had four children now, and still lived in Falconer. Different jobs, different house. Myra still loved John.
When I saw her a few weeks ago, Myra wasn't her old self. Her pale skin was sallow, the brown eyes had lost their snap. The hug she gave me was one of hello, but not of gladness. What was wrong? I was afraid to ask. John had died last fall. One cool night in October, they had sat on a hill overlooking the lake. One cold day in November, he was gone.
We talked about many things over coffee that day, but mostly about John. I pulled up my blog on my cell phone so she could read "Love of My Life". She said it was the way she felt about John, and would I write something about him? Before I knew John, I was nothing, she said. He made me come alive.
I said I would, and assured her she could read it before it was published. Mention his blue eyes, she said.
Myra asked for a single change in my script. She said she wanted me to leave his name out of it, so that anyone who had lost a love through death or estrangement could use this tribute. For the love of her life...
Until There Was You
Until you came along, I was just another body, existing but not living. My blood flowed, my lungs took in air. I could read and write, but without conviction. I ate tasteless food, smelled odorless roses. The sky was never blue, the moon never full.
Until you came along I had no reason to get up in the morning. I did it by habit or necessity, not out of a great joy to see the day. The trees provided shade from the heat; I never noticed their silken leaves. The snow was cold and wet; I never noticed how it sparkled.
Until you came along, I was without purpose. The days flowed one to another. Darkness became light, became darkness. I never saw a sunrise in its glory, never noticed the first star of twilight. The wind blew; I paid no attention to its caress. It rained; I ignored the clean scent it left behind.
Until you came along, my thoughts were unfocused. My life was an endless road without destination. There were stops along the way, of course. There was wine, there were novels and poetry. But until you came along, wine was only to quench thirst, words were from a dictionary.
Once I met you, I saw galaxies instead of stars. Gardens appeared where there had been weeds a moment before. The water and the sky became blue instead of grey. Chocolate became sweeter; fruit was no longer merely sustenance, but ambrosia.
Once I met you, I became whole. You were my missing piece, the yin to my yang. I saw possibilities ahead instead of nothingness. I felt beautiful. I felt rich. I felt loved.
Now you are gone. Although there are others around, I am alone. No more dancing in the dark, no more private jokes, no more. The stars are still in the sky. There are novels to be read and wine to be sipped. How dare the rest of life go on?
Someday, maybe I will again smell the roses and hear the birds sing.
Maybe someday.....
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