Still find myself looking at cards for husbands and lovers. Good I found both in the same man. No need to buy two, or any for that matter, now that Jud’s gone Home.
Jud never was that into Hallmark cards, but he was into us. The words he spoke or wrote, those kitchen sink nights I washed, while he dried as we talked over how we’d each spent our day, needed no cards to validate the love inherent in the simple side-by-side-ness of a long marriage.
Looking down at my wedding band, the one from 2007, not 1963, I’m remembering a nightmare in Copenhagen, when my ring and passport were stolen, along with my purse. Don’t ask why I had my ring in my purse. It makes me crazy.
Sometimes the most romantic moments happen when least expected or deserved. Like July 2007 in Copenhagen, while running to the American Embassy to grab a new passport before closing time, since we were booked to fly home to the USA the next day.
Jud’s long legs were always a challenge to walk in step with, much less run beside. He grabbed hold and we flew together down Denmark’s cobbled streets, while I wailed. Part way there, he stopped to help me catch my breath. As Jud held me, I sobbed and did worse into his shirt, while yelling, “I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I did that. I’m so sorry! My wedding ring!!” As was his penchant, Jud just held me without words of shame or blame. After a while he simply said, “I never liked what we wrote inside our rings. Lets get new ones.”
Love and forgiveness engraved in one four letter word.
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