Mr. and Mrs. Blizzard

I just witnessed the lonely march of a newborn widow. Last night we were awaken by our dog barking madly, and we came to find out it was because a firetruck was at our neighbor’s house. Deep down we both guessed what was happening, but it wasn’t confirmed until early this morning when I saw our neighbor as I was strapping the boys into the car.
“Dad passed this morning around 3:00,” he said, the emotion clearly catching in his throat. He swallowed hard almost as if he was trying to undo what he just said.
“Mama will let you know how it all happened.”
“Please give her our condolences and please let us know if there is anything we can do,” I heard myself saying. It sounded hollow. Then I drove to church.
Making lunch I saw her, the woman whose marriage vow was fulfilled in the darkness of a new day. Leaning heavily upon the arm of her daughter she walked to a car. I do not know where they were going. For her, I am sure it is into the unknown. Decades of oneness have come to an end, and so she puts one foot in front of the other and just walks. She is walking through the valley I never want to walk through. The one that is dark and scary and lonely. The one without him.
I do not know their story. My guess is it wasn’t always great because what marriage is always bliss? But the point is, the stress, the hard times, the hurt feelings did not end the marriage. They walked together until the end. That is something you don’t see every day, and it stands as a pillar for me to see every time I look out my kitchen window and live. It challenges me to love patiently and passionately and fiercely until “death do us part.”