THE
ANNIVERSARY 1932
I have a love story I’d like to tell you. It’s
about a spouse remembering a departed spouse, like a couple on a motorcycle
except no bike, no heroin, no HIV. It takes place in Ogden.
After
my mother died on Aug 30 2001 my dad made sure we marked each anniversary. At first, my brothers and sister and I would
travel hours to get home, but eventually we got to the point where just one or
two of us would make it back to go to church with him and spend the day
together.
The great love of his life, a man who broke up
with her, right before her college graduation, only to return two years later
claiming, he’d traveled the world and hadn’t found anyone to compare. He
remained a daily presence in her life. He
spoke about her so alive that people were sometimes surprised to learn that she
was not. He took over the garden, she’d planted and made her own.
When the 10 anniversary of her death
approached, my dad began talking about it and planning for it weeks in advance.
The date on his kitchen calendar was circled and marked R.I.P. Of course he
wanted all of us there but settled for my brother coming the day of and my
sister and me the following weekend.
The day
before the anniversary he went to morning Sacrament Meeting and walked downtown
for lunch with friends, and later told my sister on the phone that my mom still
felt so close that as he was walking back home, he heard some yell and thought,
oh, there’s my wife.
That
evening he went out to water flowers, just as my mother, 10 years prior, had
gone out to do garden to pick vegetables before she died. A neighbor heard the
tin watering can clank onto the cement as he fell and hit his head. My dad died
within hours, on Aug, 30 2012, the 10th anniversary. He needed to
mark that anniversary, he wanted us all home. He had waited long enough.
To read more Karl Wallace stories go to: Karlwallacespot.spot.com
