The Best Kind of Love --- a forwarded mail

I received this mail from my officemate, Von, yesterday. After scanning the title I quickly marked it as unread and forgotten about it yesterday so it is just now that I've read it.

I just wish for all of us that "falling out of love" will be the very least of our options. The "love" is still there (it is always there!) and it is us who stepped out (gave up) and fell. It is possible to "stay in love". We cannot undo what's been done in the past so we just have to work on the present and look ahead in light of love.

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The Best Kind of Love
by Jayson Areno

I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is
bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a
cover girl. "I am young again!" she shouts exuberantly.

As my friend raves on about her new love, I've taken a good look at my old
one.

My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a
marathon
runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and
his body shows signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he
can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to
ask for the check and head home.
When my friend asked me "What will make this love last?", I ran through
all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness,
physical attraction, and communication. Yet there's more. We still have
fun. spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off
the rolled newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an
all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery we split the list and raced each
other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes
can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together. And there are surprises.
One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to
another note, then another, until I reached the walk-in closet. I opened
the door to find Scott holding a "pot of gold" (my cooking kettle) and the
"treasure" of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror
and little presents under his pillow.

There is understanding.

I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands
why, once a year, I must get away from the house, the kids - and even him
to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.

There is sharing.

Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens - we also
share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me
with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science
fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he
explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the
book after I'd read it.

There is forgiveness.

When I'm embarrassingly loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When
he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him a
hug and said, "It's okay. It's only money."

There is sensitivity.

Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it's
been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what
happened. He told me about a 60-year old woman that had a stroke. He wept
as he recalled the woman's husband standing beside her bed, caressing her
hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife
would probably never recover? I shed a few tears myself. Because of the
medical crisis, because there were still people who have been married 40
years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of
hospital rooms and dying patients.

There is faith.

Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is
losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch
with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On
Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of
Alzheimer's disease on her father-in-law's personality. On Friday a
childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father had died. I
hung up the phone and thought, this is too much heartache for one week.
Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, I noticed the
boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus outside my window. I heard the
delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played. I caught sight
of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor's house. The bride, dressed in
satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends. That night, I
told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the
cycles of life and that the joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to
keep us going.

Finally, there is knowing.

I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night;
he'll be late to most
appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep
with a pillow over my head. I guess our love lasts because it is
comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer: it's just a familiar hue. We don't
feel particularly young: we've experienced too much that has contributed
to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our
memories. I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last. As a
bride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved with Robert Browning's line
"Grow old along with me!" We're following those instructions. "If anything
is real, the heart will make it plain." There are some people who meet
that somebody that they can never stop loving, no matter how hard they
try. I wouldn't expect you to understand that, or even believe it, but
trust me, there are some love that don't go away.
And maybe that makes them crazy, but we should all be blessed to end up
with that somebody who has a little of that insanity. Somebody who never
lets go. Somebody who cherishes you forever.

Hope you find this kind of love in your life.


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