4-16-15

22 years ago right now, I was on my first date with my Rob.

22 years ago tonight, we had dinner at our mutual friends’ house.

22 years ago tonight, he walked in the door with photos of Crystol and, after saying hello, proceeded to “introduce” me to his daughter and tell me all about her. 

He made it clear from the beginning that she was his world.

22 years ago tonight, we played Pictionary with our friends after dinner.

22 years ago tonight, after the dinner and the game,

our friends had to get their children to bed

so we said our goodbyes

and walked out of their house.

Not wanting to end the evening,

but since it was 11 p.m.,

we got into my car to talk.

We talked in our friends’ driveway until 3:45 a.m.

If you know me at all,

I’m sure you’re not surprised

that we could talk that late into the night.

However, if you knew Rob at all,

you’d be surprised that

it was Rob that did almost all of the talking.

22 years ago tonight, he told me he was called to the ministry. 

He said he had no idea how he was going to make it happen

but that he was bound and determined to see it through.

(He later said he told me then so I would have a chance to run if I wanted to).

22 years ago tonight, he told me his life story, at least the outline of it.

I listened intently and hung on his every word.

22 years ago tonight, I waited for him to kiss me.

It didn’t happen.

I was disappointed.

But it certainly made it more special

when he did

FINALLY

kiss me when we were on our third date.

22 years ago tonight, I started falling in love

with the man I would marry 8 months later.

It was a wonderful night.

One that we ended in prayer –

with Rob asking God to guide us

in this relationship and show us how to proceed.

He did ask if he could hold my hand while we were praying.

Of course I said yes.

And after he finished praying, he didn’t let go of my hand.

He told me later that he kept trying to think of more things to say

just so he could keep holding my hand.

We talked for another hour.

Today was a long day

(which I may or may not write about later)

with it starting with me signing my name or initials and

today’s date at least 20 times.

So, over and over again this morning,

I had to write 4-16-15.

Only twice did I write 4-16-93.

And I didn’t shed a single tear

even though every single time I wrote the date,

a gentle little stab of pain coursed through my veins.

Although it was MUCH better than it

has been in previous years,

it’s still there.

The reality that it’s over rarely hits me hard anymore.

But the memory of the magic of that night

is one that is still so very bittersweet.

Since I can no longer celebrate that date with Rob,
I celebrated it with our sons.

Although they had no idea that’s why we went.

I will always remember all of our “times” and “dates”

and will probably continue to write about them

so that the ones I know are reading my blog

(especially one I talked with tonight)

can be encouraged that, as time goes by,

you will learn to live in the “simultaneous” world

of remembering the great times

(and sometimes maybe even falling apart at those memories)

but also living in your “now”

and going forward.

For me, I no longer feel the need to outwardly

make everything about what was.

Because my life is no longer in what was.

It is in what is.

My sons and I had a great time.

We went to a local place they had never been to before.

(Anna was at her college classes).

It’s a place that’s only open for lunch

and because of homeschooling

and caretaking of my parents

lunch has always been a hard time to get away.

But we made it today.

The food was delicious.

And the company was great!

Even if I did have to tell my boys to stop kicking each other a couple of times!

And I am thankful that,

up until the very end,

God answered Rob's prayer that he prayed 

on the night of our very first date.

God guided us up until the very end.

And He is still showing me how to proceed -

as the caretaker of our children,

and as the caretaker of my Rob's memory.

I am blessed.