I bought a new dress this week. I bought a new dress to hide my puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. This dress leaves my shoulders bare and wraps around me just snug enough to feel as though I'm being held. And that's just what I need... to be bare - to be authentic and real... and to be held.
A man I love is dying. He's planned his last adventure. He's put together pictures and memories to share. He's made strides to forgive and to clear the air of the foul stench of offense. I felt heavy this week - as though his sudden depart would be just around the corner. And it might. I prayed that God would give him enough days for me to be able to put my thoughts to my lips. Can I possibly find the words to tell him that he is unforgettable? To tell him that his love has touched my soul in a deep and lasting way? Really, I want him to remember that I am a good woman. And that he really did choose a good wife. I want him to remember all the smiles we had and all the days of sunshine. And although his words are jumbled and his body is crippled, I want him to be filled with joy and to let the healing beauty of this woman fill his heart.
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