Happy Anniversary, husband! 

Today – as I’m scribbling this –  it’s our 71st wedding anniversary.  It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? I just wish you were here to celebrate it with me. 

I know I haven’t been writing to you often enough, but, as you know, I’ve been pretty busy for the past 17 years. Been thinking, though, that in case you haven’t been keeping up, I need to update you on what’s been going on here.

I hope you’re not worried that I’m still upset about how you died and left me. After all this time, I’m finally okay with that, more or less. I just never expected to be – you know – deserted. It’s okay, though, Hon. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.

A mitral valve replacement. That’s what the doctor called it. Kinda like giving your heart a tune-up. Or so we thought. 

If the surgeon had only been paying attention, we could have avoided what happened. I still haven’t forgiven the guy for it. Yes, I had even considered putting a curse on him, but then I realized I would have to go to Hell for it, and then, we would never be getting together again.

It still seems so simple to me. All the doctor had to do was to say “If the anesthetist administers protamine sulfate to you during this surgery, your shellfish allergy can cause a catastrophic reaction resulting in your death”. Upon hearing this, we would have responded – not No! –  , but “Hell, No! Use another method, Doctor Brainless!”

If only we could go back and do it over again. If only . . .

Do you remember how you always kept urging me to learn to swim? I wish I had listened. It might have spared me from drowning in the tears that still keep welling up. Can you believe they’re even dripping right now as I’m writing this? It’s really embarrassing. 

But enough with the waterworks! Here’s what you need to know right now. 

I know you remember that for our 50th wedding anniversary, we had the whole family gather at a photography studio to have a family portrait captured. The only person missing was our son Mark who died 30 years earlier. Lots of copies of the photo were made for the family but this gigantic one was made for over the fireplace in our family room. The only time it was removed while we lived there was to appear on the altar at your requiem Mass.

But here’s the problem. Since you left us 17 years ago, so many new members have “creeped in”, it’s not a photo of our family any more. There’s 11 more souls in it now than when you left, so it’s not exactly a photo of “our family” any more, if you see what I’m saying.

The only newcomer you already met is Sean who got married to Elizabeth a month after you died. When they got engaged, we were really on cloud nine. Remember? If we were subversively able to make an “arranged” marriage for our granddaughter, that would have been IT. 

To show you how right we were, Sean and Elizabeth were both here one day last week, when Elizabeth and granddaughter Josie decided to make a quick run to the grocery store. I was on the back porch, when I heard Sean call her name. Elizabeth turned around and ran back to meet him for a quick goodbye kiss. Just a “normal” event in the life of a couple who’ve been married 17 years! Any marriage that can survive the separation of a trip to Safeway, is surely going to last!

The wonders of every other “newbie” in our family would also knock your socks off (if you still wear them). We don’t have time at the moment though, to do any more mutual bragging about our exceptional good taste in acquiring family members. I need to help daughter Susy, and our great-grandson Asa carve some pumpkins for a birthday party tomorrow for our great-grandson Wesley Gene, age 3. (Yes, he’s named after both you and his maternal grandfather Wesley.)

Before I sign off this scribbling today, I just looked out the window. If you’ve been paying attention, the smoky air in and around Seattle has been terrible this week due to forest fires. Our good old rain would have fixed it, but guess what!  It’s finally happening. Raindrops are a-dropping at last, and it’s supposed to keep going for at least 24 more hours. The marine air is supposed to clean up our air in a hurry.

Whenever we have a really heavy rain like this one’s predicted to be, doesn’t it remind you of how much it poured on the day we got married in Cedar Rapids 71 years ago? It came down in torrents all day. By the time we got to the depot and boarded the train for our honeymoon trip to Chicago, we were drenched!  Anybody observing you- the unfortunate bridegroom – with his bedraggled bride in tow with her hair in strings, her limp corsage drooping, her soaked shoes squeaking, and wearing her soggy, wrinkled suit, would have guessed that this must have been the nightmare wedding from hell. But it wasn’t, was it?

According to my Irish ancestors, “Happy is the bride that the sun shines on!” I don’t have any Hindu relatives, but their view seems more sensible to me. In the Hindu tradition, rain on the wedding day is considered lucky, as it is believed to foretell a strong marriage. The logic behind this belief is that a wet knot is more difficult to untie. (Getting married is often referred to as “tying the knot.”) So if it rains on somebody’s wedding day, they will have a long, happy marriage. Sounds like ours, if you ask me. The rain was certainly followed by a whole lot of sunshine!

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Oops! Possibly that doesn’t explain how the happy marriage of Elizabeth and Sean happened on a bright sunny day. There wasn’t a wet knot in sight. Hmmn. It seems to be another of life’s mysteries which I have not yet resolved. 

Nonetheless, if anybody ever asks me for advice on the best day to get married, I’d probably hear myself saying “Pray for a rainy day!  You can maybe schedule it to be celebrated on an ark!” (I planted that little joke here so you can pass it on to Noah.) 

Truth is, though, that any day I got married to you would have been my brightest day. Maybe we can repeat it once I can get there. I’ll bring an umbrella.

Meanwhile, stay tuned. I’ll send another update soon. Try to stay out of trouble.

Love you forever.
From the wife you left behind but who still loves you anyway.