I wrote the following back in November, ten days before Thanksgiving. I never intended to share this post, as this isn't really my story to tell.
I wrote this blog for myself...minutes after a good family friend/neighbor passed away and I came home to an empty house and a broken heart. Sitting alone on the couch, I needed to make sense of the jumbled emotions tangled in me. Honestly, I don't even know if I needed to make sense of the emotions....I just needed to let the emotions OUT. I felt lost and had the laptop on my lap and the words spilled out and over me, sloppy and cold and thick, like day-old coffee in an overfilled mug. After writing, I shut the lid of my laptop and told myself I wouldn't share with anyone. The topics were too personal, too difficult, and involved feelings of men that aren't one to share their feelings with anyone. I didn't read the post again until New Year's Day. Cleaning files from my computer, I stumbled upon "Till Death Do Us Part..." Reluctantly, I let my husband read the post. "You should show this to them," he urged. "John should read this." Yesterday, I gave this blog to John to read, which he did.. And I was told to share it. So here it is. This blog includes the experiences of two amazing men in my life. I am fortunate to know them. xo, Lindsay Eleven days ago, I got married. Our wedding day was everything that everyone says a wedding day should be: love and laughter, nerves and excitement, happiness and new beginnings. I wore a beaded ivory dress and my husband wore a tan tux and my dad and I hugged each other tight as he gave me away. We danced and kissed and cried. We ate vanilla cake with butter cream frosting and I wore silver sparkly tennis shoes and the bridesmaids held bouquets of autumn colored roses. Crimson. Orange. Peach. Everyone said it would go by fast. It did. Everyone said to soak it up as much as you can. I tried. Everyone said to make sure you take time to eat. I succeeded. Eleven days ago, I got married. Two days ago, my new husband and I returned from our honeymoon, a weeklong affair in Cancun. Our tan lines still linger, the intoxicating buzz of love and strawberry daquiris run through our veins. These past few weeks were chock full of happiness bubbles floating around our heads, bobbing up and down with bliss. But an hour ago, I got a call from my mom. “He called,” she said. “She could go anytime. Can you come say goodbye?” The bubbles popped. Our neighbor Karen had been battling cancer since March. What started as a shingles diagnosis and a trip to the doctor to check things out had progressed to cancer in the brain over the past year, its tendrils wrapping its way around this person who was so much more than a neighbor, but family. Karen’s heart was huge, always giving, caring, loving. But her huge heart was slowing down, it’s steady pump now a weak flutter. Her husband John had called so we could come say goodbye to the woman who represented so much in our lives over the years: a friendly face, warm baked treat, silly prank or advice about Michigan birds in the backyard. Our friend. Sometimes, all you can do is be there. But sometimes, being there is the most important thing you can do. So I went. A year ago to the week, we were making a similar trek to the hospital to say goodbye to my dying grandpa. The third week in November—ironically the week before Thanksgiving, a holiday centered on gratitude—has been a difficult time for my family, to say the least. As my mom, brother and I walked into our neighbor’s house, my parent’s house visible from the back porch, I took in the glassware decorations on top of the windowsill. “My Grandkids Made This” magnets. Diet ginger ale bottles scattered near the kitchen sink. This house was lived in. Memories were made here. And then I saw John. Wearing a red zip-up sweatshirt, white Hanes T-Shirt and baggy grey sweatpants, his eyes looked tired as he smiled, telling us he appreciated us coming to say goodbye to his wife. I had no idea how he was keeping it together. “How’d the wedding go?” he asked, pulling me into a hug. They couldn’t make it due to the necessary hospital visits. When I told him the wedding went well, John nodded. “How long have you and Karen been married?” I asked him. I sat beside his wife now, my hand holding her hand as she lay in the bed, her eyes closed, her breaths raspy. Their son and daughter sat on couches, updating my mom on the medical details. It would be soon, the hospice had told them. “We’ve been married 49 years,” he said. “And she put up with a lot with me, much more than I put up with her.” “You make a good team,” I nodded. “Yeah, well, these kids nowadays who get married?” he started in his gravely voice, “They have one fight and then they want to divorce. You gotta take the bitter with the sweet. Sure, you’ll have your good times and your bad times, but if it’s not abuse or nothin’, I say it can be worked out. She put up with a lot with me.” John looked down at his wife, and I wondered what was going through his mind. 49 years. They met in high school and got married at 19. A man’s man through and through, John loved to hunt and fish, often making the activities a top priority. “I did my own thing and she put up with that,” he said. “She took care of me.” In the past nine months, John took care of his wife in every sense of the word. He cleaned her. Took her to her appointments. Bathed her. “I pulled down her pants while she held the counter and the railing so she could go to the bathroom,” he said. I thought of the vows I had spoken to my own husband, not even two weeks ago. For better or worse. In sickness and in health. I have a co-worker and friend also named John. In his mid60s, John is gruff. He has salt and pepper hair and drinks black coffee in a mug. He can build anything, paint anything, fix anything. He swears and smokes and makes sassy jokes at your expense, but it’s his own type of affection. He's one of my favorite people. Earlier this year, his wife was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. As the disease progresses in her brain, his wife’s personality changes hourly. She smokes like a chimney, then forgets she even likes to smoke. She makes us blush with her comments and laugh along with her sporadic glee. She gets angry with her husband for staying away at work too long and she wakes up in the middle of the night to throw clothes out of the drawer. To calm his wife, John takes her for drives. “I’ve put 5,000 miles on my truck in the past few months because we drive so much,” he told me. Earlier in the summer when the sunshine was still shining and the grass was still green, John took his wife out for picnic lunches. They’d get sandwiches at Subway or Arby’s and eat and sit and be together in the world. She liked the flowers outside, he said. Now, John stays up in the middle of the night to make sure she’s safe, missing hours of sleep to ensure her well-being. When his wife tells him to take her somewhere, John listens and follows her directions as he drives even if he knows his wife has no idea where she is. Earlier this week, John brought his wife in to work to say hi to us. I noticed his wife’s nails were a bright, aqua color. “I love your nail polish,” I nodded towards her fingers. She grinned like a school girl. “You wanna know who does my nails?” She pointed to John, who cracked a smile. “He does.” John is a brute of a man. A man’s man who makes witty jokes and smokes cigarettes and can fix anything. But he can’t fix his wife’s disease. So he takes her on drives and paints her nails aquamarine and stays up to make sure she’s safe. He is a tough guy who is soft and caring in the way that men are for the women they love. After leaving our neighbor’s house to say our goodbyes today, I came back to the duplex I just moved into with my new husband. My phone rang as I sat down on the couch. “She passed away,” my mom’s voice echoed in my ear, her voice shaky. I looked at my wedding bouquet on the counter, still perched in the vase I put the flowers in the day after our wedding. The autumn roses had dried, their petals now fragile and thin. Society teaches little girls that Prince Charming rides white horses and slays evil dragons before they can hurt you. It teaches teenage and 20something girls that the right guy is the one with smooth pick-up lines and money for drinks and random texts once in a while. But Prince Charming is neither of those things. Prince Charming is a fabrication of fairy tales and romantic comedies. Love’s seeds may scatter during the happy moments of newly wedded bliss. But love’s roots are deepened during the difficult, the tragic, the uncertain. Love is in aqua nail polish, in bathroom trips, in angry outbursts. Love blossoms in the messy and dirty and difficult. As I sit and mourn the losses and love of those I know and those close to me with their own loves and losses, I think of my husband. I think of our vows. I think of what true love really means and what it really looks like. What it sounds like. It’s not in the galloping of white horse’s hooves and the clinking of drinks and ringing of text messages asking to “come over tonight, baby.” It’s showing up. Again and again and again. No matter what life throws at you. Till death do us part.
48 Comments
Lindsay Lohner-Henry
1/6/2016 10:31:17 am
I'm crying, Linds. Such a great piece about commitment and love.
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 12:40:58 pm
Thanks so much, Lindsay.
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 12:42:55 pm
P.S. I still love that we sort of have the same name:)
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1/8/2016 08:38:33 pm
Thank you so very much Lindsay.I've been married to my sweetheart for 45 years.She s my lover and best friend
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Stephanie
1/6/2016 10:40:52 am
I think I'm crying beautiful tears. You nailed that one. Thank you for sharing.
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 12:41:42 pm
Thanks for reading, Stephanie. I appreciate your kind words.
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Jen Whitten
1/6/2016 11:15:22 am
My heart is full and so are my eyes. Thanks for sharing.
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 12:45:17 pm
Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Jen. I felt the same way writing this blog...like my heart was both empty and full, broken and healed. Grief is a strange thing.
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Ashley Bugbee
1/6/2016 11:39:28 am
Wow Lindsay. This is beautiful. And perfect. And true.
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 12:47:56 pm
Thanks so much, Ashley. The Bugbee family is one of clear love and laughter, and it is a thing of beauty. You are an awesome mama to those girls, and I would love, love, love to read your writings--please share or send to me! Hope to see you soon. xoxo
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Mel
1/6/2016 11:42:07 am
Wow. This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing!
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 12:52:04 pm
Thanks so much for reading, Mel!
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1/6/2016 12:32:48 pm
Adam, you married the right girl. what a wonderful writer she is, I enjoyed the story from the heart. it made me cry. Tom and I have been married over fifty years now, and it seems like yesterday. He remains my best friend, and our love Deepings everyday. I know yours will too. Keep writing, I would buy your book anytime. and be proud to know you. I also love to write, and do poems. love . me.
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 12:53:49 pm
Laraine, thanks so much for your kind words. I definitely am blessed to have Adam and to get to call you all family. Next time we all get together, let's swap writings; I'd love to read your poems:) xoxo
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Suzy Krugee
1/6/2016 01:00:12 pm
What a wonderful tribute. I have seen different sides of John with Kathy. Two of my favorite people.
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 01:18:56 pm
Agree 100%, Suzy. John is the best.
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Kendra Hall
1/6/2016 01:26:02 pm
Beautiful. Thank you for the reminder of what love really is.
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 02:54:25 pm
Thank you for reading, Kendra. I appreciate it.
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Libby Grimes
1/6/2016 03:07:11 pm
Lindsay, you are an amazing writer and I really love this piece. It is so true and really does put life into perspective with those around you especially a spouse! You are gonna kick butt in your writing career!!
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 03:41:50 pm
Thanks so much, Libby! I've always appreciated your kind words and support with my writing. It definitely encourages me.
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nancy ohle
1/6/2016 04:09:08 pm
So I'm balancing the emotional and the writer's critic even while sitting here with tears spilling down my face. You just did an amazing job of telling a compelling and compassionate and emotional story and life lesson by NOT interpreting your wonderful "Johns" motives but instead just letting us glimpse into the narrative of what they and their wives were living, and letting those actions, that dialogue speak for itself. No need to interpret the emotions for us. Your Johns did that for us. Wonderful writer. Wonderful reflections. Wonderful insight shared with all of us. Wonderful connections you have in life. Thank you.
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 04:22:14 pm
Thanks so much, Nancy.
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mom
1/6/2016 04:15:37 pm
A really beautiful piece! You left me crying as usual, can't wait to read your book
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Lindsay Henry
1/6/2016 04:22:42 pm
Love you, Mom.
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Ethel Dresch
1/6/2016 05:18:38 pm
I just lost my husband Gary, 6months ago. We were married for 46years. Your writing said everything I felt ! We were so much in love and we took care of each other. I have found since his death that it isn't just till death do us part , it is ETERNAL !!
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Lindsay Henry
1/7/2016 09:25:00 am
Thanks for reading, Ethel. I'm so sorry for your loss. It sounds like you and Gary definitely had a special love for each other and a dedication to your marriage. It's inspiring.
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Curt gledhill
1/6/2016 05:57:31 pm
You're a beautiful writer, Lindsay. Love is all of the things you've captured and more. I'm so excited for you and Adam to live them yourself, now. Thank you for sharing.
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Lindsay Henry
1/7/2016 09:28:41 am
Thanks so much for your kind words and support, Curt. If I can use words even HALF as skillfully as you express yourself through art, I'll be happy.
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Rich Kruger
1/6/2016 06:05:59 pm
Lindsay, very well written. Thanks for sharing.
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Lindsay Henry
1/7/2016 09:29:05 am
Thanks for reading, Rich.
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Jenny DeLong
1/6/2016 06:32:48 pm
I hope that you don't mind if I add something to your story, which I totally should NOT have read at work by the way. I was forced to close my office door and have an ugly cry! The bright nail polish wife is my mom <3. What is even more spectacular than my dad doing my mom's nails is that my mom has never, EVER, in the history of being my mom, worn bright nail polish. She was always a boring taupe, nude, beige, pale pink nail polish kind of lady. Blah, blah, blah. She had a really lovely shade of bright purple on them over the holidays. In the darkness of Alzheimer's/dementia that is slowly taking over her, this simple thing is kind of like a ray of sunshine. And I just love the look on her face when she tells you that my dad is the one that gave her the manicure - *so* sweet.
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Lindsay Henry
1/7/2016 09:33:04 am
Jenny, thank you so much for your kind words, support and loving insight to a situation you are experiencing first-hand, a situation I know is much different to live than to watch happen. You all have such a strong family unit, and I am inspired and adore your parents. I got to see John and your mom yesterday, and she and I discussed our dangly earrings we were both wearing:) It is obvious the love that your parents have for each other, and I am blessed to know your family. Thank you for your kind words and for being so supportive and accepting of me sharing their story.
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kathy mcinerney
1/6/2016 07:24:22 pm
This is so BEAUTIFUL and true. That is true love. As you know I am fortunate to experience this beautiful love. Thank you for writing such a BEAUTIFUL piece
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Lindsay Henry
1/7/2016 09:38:35 am
You and Daddy Mac's love is so amazing; we are blessed to witness it and learn from you both. I love you!
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Lindsay Henry
1/7/2016 09:27:05 am
Thank you, Mark.
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Norma Tanner
1/6/2016 11:31:16 pm
Your second John reminds me of a dear friend of mine. I've never doubted that he loves his wife - he's a devoted Christian man; but this has never been more evident than when he became the caretaker for her when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. The tender patience and concern he shows for her is a testament of his love for her and for Christ. I feel blessed to see his love in action. Thanks for sharing your similar experience!
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Lindsay Henry
1/7/2016 09:39:25 am
Thanks so much for sharing about your friend, Norma, and thank you for reading.
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1/7/2016 06:16:32 am
You're an amazing writer, Lindsay. This was a great tribute for two special men who understand what they promised when they got married. Thank you for sharing this.
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Lindsay Henry
1/7/2016 09:41:58 am
Thank you so much, Ed.
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Caroline
1/7/2016 11:21:36 am
You touched my soul!
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Lindsay Henry
1/7/2016 11:29:04 am
Thanks for your kind words, Caroline!
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Marilyn royal
1/7/2016 09:41:53 pm
Lindsay thank you so much for writing such a nice tribute to a very special friend. Karen and I have been good friends for over 40 years she was here for me when I lost my daughter,and she was there when my grandchildren were born and also my great grandson and also when I lost my husband in August. Her and John were not able to attend the funeral for my husband because of her health but they were there in my heart. We did a lot of crazy things thru the years and she is greatly missed
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Lindsay Henry
1/8/2016 12:22:56 pm
Hi Marilyn, thanks so much for sharing. Karen was an awesome lady and definitely taught me a lot about a lot. She's the reason our family even has our cat, as she went out in the ditch with me in front of our houses to help me "save the kittens" that were dropped off on our road. I'm sorry for your loss; I can imagine it is hard, but it sounds like your friendship was amazing and you are correct--she is greatly missed.
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Janine
1/8/2016 01:04:32 am
Thank you so much for sharing this. I am in the process of planning my wedding. I've thought about these things myself, and while planning a wedding is fun and I want it to be a beautiful day, what I want more is a beautiful marriage. Our fours years leading up to engagement were not always pretty, easy or neat. We've worked to get here. But I feel it gave me the mind set you speak of here. Because marriage will be not those things as well at times. But its like you she said, its actively choosing and showing up again and again.
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Lindsay Henry
1/8/2016 12:25:06 pm
Congratulations on your upcoming wedding, Janine! I just got married two months ago, so I definitely know that the process and planning can get a bit overwhelming. I love how you are introspective and insightful and aware of what you want: a beautiful marriage. I appreciate your kind words, and I wish you all the best with planning and your upcoming marriage. xo
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Amy G
1/10/2016 08:41:31 pm
Last night dad I and went to spread some of mom's ashes per her last wishes. Shortly after doing so, dad leaned over and said, "I want to show you something Lindsay wrote". My eyes began to well and prayed I could hold it together given we were in a public place. Not far into it, the tears began running uncontrollably down my face.
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Lindsay Henry
1/11/2016 10:40:23 am
Your family means so much to me and my family, Amy. Thank you for allowing us to be a part of your lives. Your dad and mom have inspired me and shown me what true love and dedication looks like, and I will carry these lessons with me always. Sending lots of love to you, your dad and family. Hope Karen isn't knocking any clocks down:)
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