She Said “Yes”

Twenty-five years ago today I asked Kim to marry me.

She said, “yes”.

We never made a big fuss about Valentine’s Day. I didn’t choose today because it was supposed to be a romantic holiday – I chose it because Kim was so bad with dates that I figured she could remember this one.

January 25, 1992 was the first time we went out together.

July 25, 1992 was when we decided we would start dating.

Kim would later say that she avoided dating me because she knew if she dated me we would get married – and she wanted to marry someone with whom she shared her religion.

September, 1992 we went on a trip together to San Francisco, Napa Valley, and Lake Tahoe.

On Valentines Day, 1993 we were engaged.

Six months later, on August 8, 1993 we were married.

It’s not that we didn’t ever argue and it’s not that we weren’t ever moody or mean to each other, but our marriage was as perfect as a real marriage can be in real life.

We never fought about big things – it was always stupid things.

Towards the end, we were learning that if these were little things, why did we bother to fight about them. We weren’t quite there yet – but we were close.

We never really celebrated Valentine’s Day.

I got Kim flowers when if felt right – not just on a day when you were supposed to.

Valentine’s Day in our real marriage was affectionate but it was also about us standing in the kitchen in the morning, drinking coffee and eating some of the candy we had bought for the kids.

I loved touching Kim – just putting a hand on her.

The look she gave me depended on where I put my hand.

She’d roll her eyes and I’d tell her, “you’ll be sad the day I don’t reach out to touch you.”

She’d smile.

The Valentine’s Day before she died, Kim said, “I got us something.”

It was just a little something but it said that as we aged together there was still a spark that we would continue to enjoy.

There was all the promise of the rest of our lives together.

Our health was good enough to travel the world together. We had the time and means to enjoy the things we wanted. We loved to talk to each other or just be together quietly. We still reached for each other – just because.

Someone asked me this week if I was angry at Kim for dying.

No.

It wouldn’t have been her choice and it certainly wasn’t her fault.

The man asked if I’m angry at her for being in a convertible on that day in that place?

No.

I’m angry at the person who killed her. I’m not angry at Kim in any way.

I feel cheated.

The man nodded and said, “you were.”

It was the second time I said that to someone this week and the second time I heard that answer.

Twenty-five years ago today I asked Kim if she would spend the rest of her life with me.

She said, “yes.”

And she did.

Published in: on February 14, 2018 at 7:52 am  Leave a Comment  

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