To My Husband Who Died in 1989

Strange how love evolves, my dear.

In 1969, I thought you were handsome and charming and daring,

I loved your outlaw swagger, your devil-may care bearing.

You were a dancer, a romancer, a drinker, a thinker.

I was thrilled to hitch a ride with your wild side.

By 1979, your sad soldier’s stories were growing old

Your death-defying acts more driven than bold

You were unpredictable, undependable, unmendable, expendable.

The wild ride turned out to be a roller-coaster.

In 1989, a second war, with cancer. This time you lost – and died.

We’d been apart ‘til you asked me to take that trip by your side.

You made no apologies, asked for no guarantees, made no final pleas

You rode out as you rode in.

Love is like a rose, sharing flowers and thorns

In the beginning, you only see the beauty

In the end, you only feel the pain.

But wait and time brings all it ‘round again. 

In 2009 and beyond, you are photos in an album, memories in a heart

Time polishes recollections, shines them once more, wipes away hurt

Today I remember the dancer, the romancer, the drinker, the thinker.

I choose to remember the roses.

Love is like a rose, sharing flowers and thorns

In the beginning, you only see the beauty,

In the end, you only feel the pain.

But wait, and times brings it ‘round again.