At the end of the buffet table my friend was serving hot drinks. As I reached the drinks station my friend looked at her, pointed to me, and said, “This is my old friend.” Then she looked at me, pointed to her, and said, “This is my new friend.” And the rest is history.
We married two years later and were together until she passed away 8 years ago, after almost 43 happy years.
What’s a time you followed your gut and it turned out to be exactly right?
Pen y Fan
It was the end of our 37th wedding anniversary holiday when my wife and I stopped at the Pont-ar-Daf car park at the foot of Pen y Fan in the Brecon Beacons for a rest after a long drive. We decided to stretch our legs a little with a stroll up the path leading to the summit. I had reached the top with a friend a few weeks earlier but my wife had never attempted it.
After a short walk, I asked my wife, who suffered from mild asthma, if she wanted to go back to the car. She asked me what the view was like from the ridge that we could see. I said it’s worth seeing and she said, “Let’s see how we go.”
We walked on steadily, one foot in front of the other, got to the ridge and, indeed, the view was worth the effort. I asked if she was ready to go back to the car and she asked which peak was Pen y Fan. When I pointed it out she said, “Let’s see how we go.”
We kept waking and reached the summit, with its view across the whole of South and Mid Wales just as everyone else was leaving. We were left alone at the top for about ten minutes. It was probably the most emotional experience of our lives together.
We took the required photos and just sat there, alone together, tears in our eyes from the waves of emotions. Getting to the top at the end of an anniversary holiday was well worth the effort. It was a shared experience that drew us even closer together than we had ever been before. And all because of her gut feeling, “Let’s see how we go.” It was the first and only time we ascended Pen y Fan despite living in its shadow for over 40 years together.
The following year, there was upheaval in the family. But that shared experience had given us the strength to keep going and just “see how we go,” one foot in front of the other, in the face of trials.
I rarely directly share personal experiences, but this one has kept me going despite everything that life has thrown at us.
Just over five years later, my wife’s asthma turned out to be lung cancer, and she passed away a few months before what would have been our 43rd anniversary. But that shared experience has kept me going, still dealing with the upheaval in the family, still putting one foot in front of the other, still telling myself, “Let’s see how we go.”
Memories and feelings All wrapped up in cotton wool And bubble wrap; Gently placed inside the box With polystyrene pieces And packs of desiccant; Sealed and marked, “Do not destroy,” And archived.
For now, I have no need
Of memories or feelings;
Now that you’ve gone
And left me all alone
To face the bleakness of a future
Filled with sadness,
Filled with tears,
Filled with grief,
And uncertainty
Maybe, some day,
Our great grandchildren
Will look inside
To marvel at the love we shared.
“How quaint that they should be
Together, Oh so long!”
And give us pride of place
Upon their shelves
And mantels.
Or maybe you and I
Will reunite
To open up the box
And let the memories rekindle
The love that bound us
Together, forever;
To set the feelings free
To flood our hearts
And souls.
‘These three remain: Faith, hope, and love;’ Anchors for this lonely soul To which I cling with calloused hands That long to feel The softness of your cheeks. Faith, hope, and love That soon we’ll reunite In Paradise.
Greenacre 9 