My parents were married 55 years. My mother had a heart attack and fell one morning while going downstairs to make breakfast for Dad. My father grabbed her as best he could and nearly dragged her into the truck. He drove her to the hospital at high speeds and without regard for traffic lights. Unfortunately, when he arrived, she had already left us.

My father remained silent throughout the burial. His gaze was lost. He barely cried. That night, his children joined him. In an environment of anguish and nostalgia, we recalled lovely tales, and he requested my brother, a theologian, to tell him where Mom would be at the time. My brother began to speculate about life after death, including how and where Mom would be.

My father listened closely. He suddenly begged us to accompany him to the grave. We said, “Dad, it is 11 p.m., we can’t go to the cemetery right now!”
With a glazed expression, he stated, “Don’t argue with me, please don’t argue with the man who just lost his wife of 55 years.” There was a respectful stillness, and we stopped arguing. We walked to the cemetery and asked the night watchman for permission.

We approached the tomb with a flashlight. My father caressed her, prayed, and told his children, who were watching the incident, that it had been 55 years. No one can discuss true love unless they have experienced life with a lady.” He hesitated and wiped his face. “She and I were together during that crisis. “I changed jobs,” he continued. “We packed everything when we sold the house and relocated out of town.

We shared the delight of seeing our children complete their careers, we lamented the loss of loved ones side by side, we prayed together in some hospital waiting rooms, we supported one another in agony, we hugged every Christmas, and we forgave our faults. Children, it’s gone, and I’m delighted; do you know why? Because she departed before me. She didn’t have to go through the agony and pain of burying me, or being alone after my death.

I am grateful to God that I will be the one who goes through that. I love her so much that I would not have wanted her to suffer…” When my father finished speaking, my brothers and I were in tears. We hugged him, and he calmed us, saying, “It’s fine, we can go home; it’s been a nice day.” That night, I realized what true love is: it is far from romance.