"Sixty-two years," says the priest at the pulpit, looking down at the sobbing widower in the first pew.
"Sixty-two years of marriage. Isn't that something? Henry and I were talking last night, and here's what he said about his life with Lorraine: 'I just wish we could do it all over again.'"
I just wish we could do it all over again.
Hank is 84. So was Lorraine, born just two days before her husband.
"I love older women," he'd say, smiling.
I just wish we could do it all over again.
Three sons and a daughter. A small crowd of grandchildren and great grand kids.
I just wish we could do it all over again.
His wife hadn't actually recognized him - or any family member - for at least a year due to advanced Alzheimer's.
I just wish we could do it all over again.
He cried at the funeral home. At the church. And in the chapel at the cemetery, where he left her.
I just wish we could do it all over again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Quiet house
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Quiet
3 weeks ago
4 comments:
Nice.
That is so sad...
Loss...
The greatest pain there is...
Grommie
Hedy - That kind of love makes me weepy...is it possible to still have that kind of loving marriage, where at the end of it all, you would want to do it again?
my sad marriage years were 2 times 10
Fantastic yet heart breaking.
Too bad others can't bury their pride and say they'd do it all over again.
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