I believe God softens the blow of losing a loved one by causing the good memories to bubble to the surface while poor memories tend to fade into oblivion. Jill passed away one year ago today. All I could think about for several weeks was the trauma that surrounded her passing. Gradually that faded away to be replaced by the best moments of our life together. Everyone remembers certain milestones in their lives that stand out as defining moments. Where we met our future spouse for the first time, the marriage proposal, the wedding, the births of our children, and so on. Make no mistake, they are all memorable moments and will never be forgotten, but there is often another time associated with many, if not all these events that is far more meaningful and memorable. It is those moments that stand out.
Perhaps the most meaningful and poignant occurred after I proposed to Jill one December day. The proposal was unexpected, even to me. It was Saturday, December 11, 1976, and Sigma Nu’s Winter Formal took place that evening. Jill and I were sitting in the car after walking out of the house and talking. Jill informed me that she and her friend Marlene were going to move to New Orleans because they could get teaching jobs in Louisiana. Jill could get nothing more than periodic substitute teaching days up here and it was not paying the bills. At this point, we had been dating for two years. Even though I had said nothing to Jill, I knew that I wanted to marry her. When she said she was moving to New Orleans, I was thunderstruck. I simply exclaimed that I wanted to get married, which I did, but I was not yet prepared to propose. We were both in tears, sitting there in the car. They were happy tears though, and New Orleans was quickly forgotten.
The next morning, rather than making coffee, I just lay in bed and watched Jill sleep. When she began stirring, I recall nudging her to gently wake her up.
Then I said, “Good morning…”
Jill mumbled “Do you remember what you said last night?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you still want to get married?”
“More than anything.”
Several days later, Jill told me that she asked if I remembered to give me the opportunity to back out. She knew I was intoxicated when I proposed, and she was offering me a way to semi-gracefully plead ignorance to what I had asked in the car that Saturday evening.
Sunday morning was one of the most joyful, exhilarating, and peaceful moments of our lives. We laid in bed and talked about everything… getting married, our future together, children, and all the little things that suddenly become important when you begin planning a life together. We talked… and talked… and talked. We were constantly interrupting each other as new thoughts and ideas crowded into our heads.
Jill being Jill, she did not want to tell anyone “For at least a couple of months.” I knew this was horse manure, but I humored her at the time. It was common knowledge by Christmas. Jill almost immediately told her friend Chris, which is akin to a public post on Facebook today. Hunger finally drove us out of bed, but by the time we sat down for lunch we knew what our future looked like. That Sunday was a good day. It was a thrilling day, even 48 years later.