The other day, I mentioned that on our Canadian Thanksgiving weekend I sat at the cemetary crying, praying and talking with God and Gordon.
While that doesn't sound out of the ordinary, for I do that almost every time I am at the cemetary, there was something different about my thoughts and conversations, on Monday, October 10th. The second (2nd) anniversary of Gordon's death.
Why this happened, I have no idea. I just know it did.
While I sat on my lawn chair, I looked at Gordon's grave and our grave marker. It shows Gordon's name and info, a Bible verse and more. As per normal, I looked at my name with only my birth year on the marker. Nothing unusual about this, for sure.
What was different was what I thought about.
Instead of wishing God would just take me home, so I could be with Him and Gordon, another thought ran through my mind. This thought was something I had never before considered.
I wondered what it would be like if our roles had been reversed.
What would life be like for Gordon, if I was lying in the grave and Gordon was alive, is what I thought about. Immediately after thinking this thought, I tried to erase it from the forefront of my mind. But, it kept coming back, even though I considered it an absurd thing to think about.
Even when Gordon was really ill, I continuously ignored the fact that he could die. I just kept trusting God for his healing.
Gordon used to tell me regularly, that if I died before him, he couldn't last six (6) months without me.
In my heart, I didn't believe this. I knew that he was fairly self-sufficient.
After all, he helped me from time to time, while I did laundry. He saw me sort the laundry, and prepare to load it into the machines. In fact, after we moved to our apartment, things changed somewhat. Instead of me carrying the laundry, he insisted on carrying it. So, I did the sorting and preparation; he took it to the laundry room, loaded it into the washers and transferred it to the dryers. When he brought it back into our home, I folded and did what I needed to do to place our clothing back into our closets, etc. In essence, we handled this, together.
Of course, after retirement, Gordon was rather bored with life, so helping me with laundry wasn't the only thing he did.
At times, I would arrive home to find that he had made dinner for us. While this was not the norm, but only a rare occasion, I was grateful when this happened. Knowing that he could fend for himself when it came to cooking, even in the smallest of ways, was comforting to me, because I knew that if anything ever happened to me, Gordon would be able to provide for himself.
So, whenever he would tell me that he couldn't carry on living if I died before him, I knew his remark had nothing to do with the aspects of daily living. I knew that he meant it in a more emotional way.
I knew he loved me.
There's more I need to say about this. It will have to be tomorrow.
Until next time...
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