My dear wife Jody died in November, 2014 and here we are in February, 2016. How I still miss her. I remember our walks, our talks and our cuddling. I remember her wonderful smile.
I’m alone in our home now. And I’m just getting comfortable with the words “my home”. Every morning and every night, I stand in front of a photo of Jody that I took in Quebec City in 2008. We’re in a restaurant and she’s looking at me with love. Now I moisten the index finger of my right hand and press it to her lips. “I love you, Jodiette.” And the answer comes, “I love you, Bruce … very much.”
We still talk every day and no doubt some people wonder when I tell them that. It’s okay. We all have our own perspective on what’s real. “I’m here, husband. I want you to be happy. It’s time to find a new love. I’m cheering you on.” With my wife’s urging, I’ve signed up for the dating website Zoosk. I’ve had one date with a happy woman and we’re going out to dinner next week. Time will tell.
I don’t cry for Jody every day. I’d say it’s about two out of three. My eyes fill with tears when the moment beckons. The timing is unpredictable. Many times, instead of getting choked up, a little smile crosses my face as I think of my dear one. We had our joys, we had our problems, and always we had our love. Thank you, Jodiette, for staying with me, for continuing to love me.
New chapters will reveal themselves and Jody will journey through them with me. I’ll be able to give myself fully to whomever emerges as my future love without Jody looming over the new relationship. But my wife will be with me always.
I was in Wimpy’s Diner a couple of days ago for breakfast. Kelly is a waitress there and we had a good talk. I had given her a copy of Jody’s book. She told me that her young daughter saw Jody’s picture on the cover.
“Mommy, her very beautiful.”
After Kelly told the girl our story, the wise one said, “Her more pretty now that her an angel.”
Thank you, little girl. You’re so right.