A Love That Was More Than Love
A Love That Was More Than Love
The sun beats down on me as I navigate through the rows of headstones. I finally spot it. Small patches of grass are beginning to grow on top of the fresh mound of dirt. I’ve been here every day since you left. The headstone we picked out is simple. Nothing showy or expensive, I know you wouldn’t have liked that. I sink down to sitting position, ignoring the pain in my hips, and drag my hand through the grass. It’s hot out here, but I don’t mind. I pull a book from my bag and sit it on my lap. The pages are worn and ripped in places. The cover reads, The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe. I begin reading aloud one of our favorite poems.
I remember when you would read to me. You’d have one arm around me and one holding a book. I’d close my eyes and listen to the soft way you spoke. That was the one place where I felt safe. Tucked in your arms, nothing could hurt me. You were my protector, my rock, the one thing that kept me sane.
I remember that one night, when I ran to your house, crying my eyes out. My parents had been fighting again, and I became the subject of their argument. I listened in my bedroom until I couldn’t take anymore. I snuck out and we sat under the peach tree in your backyard. You held me as I sobbed. My salty tears stained your gray t-shirt, but you didn’t care. You just held me until I had no tears left.
I remember how my parents and our friends had doubted us. They said we’d never make it, but we proved them wrong. You proposed the evening after we graduated high school, much to the disdain of my parents. Despite our young age, we held on. We said, “I do,” under the peach tree in your backyard on a warm summer evening.
After two years of marital bliss, we conceived a child. We were ecstatic. We began preparations right away, anxiously awaiting the arrival of our baby. Then, there was the morning I awoke with blood staining the white sheets. My earth shattering scream sent you into a panic. Thinking there was an intruder in the house, you jumped up, reaching for the small pistol you had hidden under the bed. I began weeping. You then saw the blood. I remember your eyes, wide with fear. You scooped me into your arms, gingerly, and carried me to the car, still in your pajamas. The gentle way you held my hand on the way to the hospital, calmed me a little. I sat sniffling, as you drove.
We entered the emergency room, where they whisked me away. I remember the concern and panic in your face when they told you that you weren’t allowed to come with me. I assured you that I would be fine, despite my own fear. You began crying, thinking I wasn’t looking, as they pushed my wheelchair away from you.
After the incident, we tried to return to our normal lives. The baby items we had purchased seemed to be a daily reminder of that day; of the child we didn’t have. We moved them to the attic, so they would be out of sight and out of mind. But I think we both still thought about it.
One year later, we tried again. I became pregnant once more. You were always hovering over me, making sure I had enough to eat, seeing that I was comfortable, anything to help me. I could see that you were worried about me, about the baby. I knew that you would be an incredible father. I carried to full term, and delivered a healthy baby boy. We named him Luke, after your grandfather.
Luke was a good baby. He began sleeping through the night only a month after we brought him home. You were wonderful with him. You were always eager to play with him or sing to him to calm him down. As Luke grew up, he adored you. He wanted to be just like his Daddy.
I remember the first time he brought a girl home. I have to admit, I was a bit uneasy. This was my little boy, and he was going steady with a girl. You calmed me down though. You cracked jokes through dinner and kept everyone laughing. I found myself growing fond of the girl. She had a lovely personality and was quite pretty too.
After Luke moved out and left for college, the house felt empty. I found myself setting a third place at dinner, forgetting that he wasn’t home. I was a bit depressed for a while, but it passed. I began enjoying having the house to just us again. We could sit and cuddle on the couch without anyone saying that we were weird. I could even have you read to me without being interrupted.
We grew older and the years flew by. Luke got married and had a child of his own. We were the proud grandparents of a beautiful little girl.
One day, I was staring at myself in the mirror. I could see every wrinkle and every gray hair. I decided that I had never been uglier in my life. I put my head in my hands and felt miserable. Suddenly, I felt your arms wrapping around me.
“Hello, beautiful,” you whispered, before kissing me on the cheek. I smiled and leaned into you. You always had a way of saying the right thing at the right time.
The year that we were both 70, I urged you to go to the doctor. You hadn’t gotten any checkups in a few years and I worried. Finally, I persuaded you to go. You came home with a nervous look in your eyes. When I asked you what was wrong, you bit your lip. I know now that you didn’t want to see me hurting. You didn’t want to see the pain in my face when I found out.
It was an aggressive, late stage cancer. It didn’t respond well to chemotherapy. You grew weak over a matter of months, deteriorating before my very eyes. You hated seeing me worried, especially about you. You had taken care of me all of our lives. It was my turn to take care of you.
In your final moments, I read to you. It was one of our favorite poems.
It was many and many a year ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;-
And this maiden, she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child, and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee-
With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason, that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind came out of a cloud by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me:-
Yes! That was the reason (as all men know in this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:-
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:-
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea-
In her tomb by the side of the sea.
I close the book and sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Darling,” I say. I slowly get up and my arthritic hips cry out in protest. I lean over and kiss the headstone before making my way back to the front gates of the cemetery.
I remember when you would read to me. You’d have one arm around me and one holding a book. I’d close my eyes and listen to the soft way you spoke. That was the one place where I felt safe. Tucked in your arms, nothing could hurt me. You were my protector, my rock, the one thing that kept me sane.
I remember that one night, when I ran to your house, crying my eyes out. My parents had been fighting again, and I became the subject of their argument. I listened in my bedroom until I couldn’t take anymore. I snuck out and we sat under the peach tree in your backyard. You held me as I sobbed. My salty tears stained your gray t-shirt, but you didn’t care. You just held me until I had no tears left.
I remember how my parents and our friends had doubted us. They said we’d never make it, but we proved them wrong. You proposed the evening after we graduated high school, much to the disdain of my parents. Despite our young age, we held on. We said, “I do,” under the peach tree in your backyard on a warm summer evening.
After two years of marital bliss, we conceived a child. We were ecstatic. We began preparations right away, anxiously awaiting the arrival of our baby. Then, there was the morning I awoke with blood staining the white sheets. My earth shattering scream sent you into a panic. Thinking there was an intruder in the house, you jumped up, reaching for the small pistol you had hidden under the bed. I began weeping. You then saw the blood. I remember your eyes, wide with fear. You scooped me into your arms, gingerly, and carried me to the car, still in your pajamas. The gentle way you held my hand on the way to the hospital, calmed me a little. I sat sniffling, as you drove.
We entered the emergency room, where they whisked me away. I remember the concern and panic in your face when they told you that you weren’t allowed to come with me. I assured you that I would be fine, despite my own fear. You began crying, thinking I wasn’t looking, as they pushed my wheelchair away from you.
After the incident, we tried to return to our normal lives. The baby items we had purchased seemed to be a daily reminder of that day; of the child we didn’t have. We moved them to the attic, so they would be out of sight and out of mind. But I think we both still thought about it.
One year later, we tried again. I became pregnant once more. You were always hovering over me, making sure I had enough to eat, seeing that I was comfortable, anything to help me. I could see that you were worried about me, about the baby. I knew that you would be an incredible father. I carried to full term, and delivered a healthy baby boy. We named him Luke, after your grandfather.
Luke was a good baby. He began sleeping through the night only a month after we brought him home. You were wonderful with him. You were always eager to play with him or sing to him to calm him down. As Luke grew up, he adored you. He wanted to be just like his Daddy.
I remember the first time he brought a girl home. I have to admit, I was a bit uneasy. This was my little boy, and he was going steady with a girl. You calmed me down though. You cracked jokes through dinner and kept everyone laughing. I found myself growing fond of the girl. She had a lovely personality and was quite pretty too.
After Luke moved out and left for college, the house felt empty. I found myself setting a third place at dinner, forgetting that he wasn’t home. I was a bit depressed for a while, but it passed. I began enjoying having the house to just us again. We could sit and cuddle on the couch without anyone saying that we were weird. I could even have you read to me without being interrupted.
We grew older and the years flew by. Luke got married and had a child of his own. We were the proud grandparents of a beautiful little girl.
One day, I was staring at myself in the mirror. I could see every wrinkle and every gray hair. I decided that I had never been uglier in my life. I put my head in my hands and felt miserable. Suddenly, I felt your arms wrapping around me.
“Hello, beautiful,” you whispered, before kissing me on the cheek. I smiled and leaned into you. You always had a way of saying the right thing at the right time.
The year that we were both 70, I urged you to go to the doctor. You hadn’t gotten any checkups in a few years and I worried. Finally, I persuaded you to go. You came home with a nervous look in your eyes. When I asked you what was wrong, you bit your lip. I know now that you didn’t want to see me hurting. You didn’t want to see the pain in my face when I found out.
It was an aggressive, late stage cancer. It didn’t respond well to chemotherapy. You grew weak over a matter of months, deteriorating before my very eyes. You hated seeing me worried, especially about you. You had taken care of me all of our lives. It was my turn to take care of you.
In your final moments, I read to you. It was one of our favorite poems.
It was many and many a year ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;-
And this maiden, she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child, and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee-
With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason, that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind came out of a cloud by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me:-
Yes! That was the reason (as all men know in this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:-
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:-
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea-
In her tomb by the side of the sea.
I close the book and sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Darling,” I say. I slowly get up and my arthritic hips cry out in protest. I lean over and kiss the headstone before making my way back to the front gates of the cemetery.