Tonight as the Full Moon casts that luminescent glow near the waters edge, my heart is full of LOVE. My time spent here with Mom & Jack is endearing, a labor of love, a privilege and honor to care for the one who gave me the blood and breath to live my life here on Earth. I love you Mom. But step aside for just one moment as I pay tribute to your beloved husband, Jack.
My Mom. 69 years of age. Jack. 78 years of age. LOVE. True love. Found each other via Internet. Lived together 11 years, married two years.His nickname for her is "Peanut" when he is feeling the swell of Love in his chest. He honors her. He adores her. He says she is the "easiest, low-key woman he has ever lived with," as he pats her thigh under the table. He was her Knight in shining armour (so to speak) as she was landlocked in Fort Worth, Texas, with Mermaid dreams to live near the Sea. Without knowing the penpal Jack Keil was her future husband, they decided to meet. She called me one day with giddy tone in her voice that he bought his plane ticket to Texas without even seeing a photograph of her yet!! He showed up with tomato plants and a willing hand to help with household repairs! Soon she quit her job, sold her house and moved to Merritt Island, Florida. Let me tell you more. They walked the beach every Sunday. He would place her coffee mug in the freezer, so her first cup of coffee would be just the right temperature for her first sip. She never likes "hot coffee." He packed her lunch everyday for work. He hates eggplant, but roasts it perfectly for her to enjoy whenever she craves it. He pokes his head into the door to say "Hello Beautiful. I LOVE YOU." She speaks loudly and slowly as his hearing has become a challenge. He bows his head and grins, with acknowledgement of her efforts to communicate. He spends all day on his knees, working in the yard..."Geezing" as we call it. Doing the things "Old Geezers" do all day long. He might spend 8 hours repairing the sprinkler head, changing the boat cover or sifting the dirt for the tomato plants that really don't need repotting. And he always has a cheerful word. Always a story to tell, and re-tell! He polishes his black shoes for dinner, tucks in his blue collared shirt and opens the wine. We sit and share stories of old times. His stories are older than mine, as his leathery brown hand ocasionally cradles the crook of my Moms elbow. She tells me that he thinks I hung the Moon. But honestly, it must have been a team effort, because I think he hung the Moon. He takes care of my Mom. He loves her in such an endearing manner and cares for her, and strips her toenails before surgery! PS...he has never had surgery. And the doctor says he is in perfect health, although it is my mission to feed him until he gains 10 pounds. Go have a gaze at the full moon tonight, and ask yourself...WHO HUNG YOURS?
Matt, you hung my Moon, the Planets and all the stars in my sky. And I am grateful for the wonderful men in my life.