Our Story - Part Six

Although there were many common things between us, Cheryl and I had our differences, too. We are of different religions and political parties. Religion and politics. Those are two subjects most people don't discuss for the sake of their relationship. Cheryl and I know our boundries and respect one another's opinion.

She believes Tony is in heaven. I believe Chezzy is in the grave waiting for the second coming. Cheryl believes our country will fare better under the leadership of a Democrat while I lean toward the more conservative side. Cheryl never had children and I have three. Cheryl was a flight attendant for American Airlines while I stayed home changing diapers. Later, Cheryl worked for the city of Duncanville and I began working with Chezzy in our business.

How are differences handled? As far as religion goes, I find Cheryl to be a very spiritual person. She claims that I put her focus back on God during her time of loss and anger. Prayer and spiritual support knows no denomination. I know Cheryl has a devotional every morning and that I'm in her prayers. She knows the same is true of me. We don't discuss religion, we discuss the love God bestows on us daily. We believe God did open a window when our husbands died and gave us this beautiful friendship. It's sharing this love together that keeps us centered on what is really important. Cheryl gives credit to God for every good thing that happens. And even though she insists that I turned her toward God again, I am in awe of her faith in areas where my own is lacking.

In the area of politics, Cheryl and I agree how we'd like to see our government run. We don't discuss the political parties themselves, but discuss the good and bad that is going on in the world today. We know the areas where we differ and there's no need to bring them up. No relationship shares the same opinion on every subject. Our challenge is to live together peacefully while respecting the opinions of those around us. Cheryl and I have never fought, have never said a rude thing to the other, and if we did it was in the spirit of joking. We can say anything to the other without any fear of it being taken the wrong way. We know each other too well.

As for never having children, Cheryl solved that problem in a hurry. She promptly adopted my children in her heart. How thrilled I was when both my daughters gave Cheryl an important role in their weddings. She, in turn, gave them the sixpence to wear in their shoes on their wedding day, just as she had done on October 4, 1974.

Allison asked Cheryl to be her wedding coordinator. Cheryl was honored. Five days before the wedding, Cheryl called me, her voice full of concern. "I just broke a toe," she lamented. "How will I manage getting the wedding party assembled to walk down the aisle? And what about rehearsal?"

As it turned out, Cheryl was there and successfully hobbled around and did her job to perfection. At the rehearsal, when she saw signs of Allison's nerves hitting a breaking point, she rallied everyone together and ordered them to perform their duties right so Allison could have a beautiful wedding. And, so it happened.

Later that month, I called Cheryl with unbelievable news: "I just broke my toe," I told her.

"Win the lottery," she said. "I'll be next."

When Angela's wedding arrived seven months later, Cheryl was touched when she was asked to
be an honorary mother. She was escorted to her seat, just as I was, and we both felt the joy of watching "our" daughter marry the man of her dreams. Her active participation in the lives of my children has meant so much to me. I honestly believe her joy would match that of Chezzy's.

I'll never forget the day Cheryl called to tell me that she'd heard noises in her chimney and had called someone to investigate. "You won't believe this," she said. "Four baby raccoons were in my chimney." A few months later, I called Cheryl and asked her to listen as I put the phone close to the ceiling in the playroom. "What does that sound like?" I asked her. "Raccoons," she told me. Sure enough, I had three baby raccoons pulled from my attic. Again, Cheryl said, "One of us needs to win the lottery. You know the other one will win, too."

The dating scene was a very odd time for Cheryl and me. After almost nineteen years of marriage, dating someone again, opening our hearts again, held a combination of excitement and insecurity. The Bible clearly states that when a spouse dies, the remaining partner is free to marry again. Why, when it's Biblical, is so much guilt involved? There's a feeling of betraying the memory of our husband, and a desperate need to fill a void. Studies have shown that the happiest of marriages find the widow or widower anxious to be back in that same, safe cocoon. Still, the guilt is present, and the awkwardness of dating as a middle-aged woman.

The most memorable of our dating experiences centered around the cell phone mounted in my white BMW. Cheryl and I would go to dinner, then grab the phone when we got back in my car. She'd call her answering machine at home to see if Sid had left a message. Then, it was my turn and I'd call my answering machine to see if Robin had left a message. We were giddy when we heard their voices. It was like opening a gift on Christmas morning. And, just as we had shared the pain of loss, we now shared the adjustment that being on the dating field presented. It was another necessary step in the healing process. We knew that getting on with our lives in no way diminished what we had shared before.

My first date with Robin was when I met up with him in Galveston for fun in the sun. Cheryl was returning that weekend from a cruise with Sid. I was supposed to pick her up at the airport. I asked her friend, Kate, to fill in for me since I'd be in Galveston. At this point, Cheryl had no knowledge of Robin. He was a supplier of mine and had asked me out while Cheryl was on the cruise. On my way home from Galveston, I called Cheryl to make sure she had been picked up and was at home, and to describe my wonderful weekend. She didn't give me the chance. The minute she heard my voice, she demanded, "Who the hell is Robin?"

That question showed how protective we'd become with each other. Both of us had become a lifeline to the other, and we constantly made sure there would always be a safe connection. I remember Cheryl's fear when she learned I was going to drive in an ice storm to my sister's house for Thanksgiving dinner. At the time the roads weren't that bad and I assured her I'd be fine. I skidded off the road and hit a guard rail. Cheryl was hysterical when she learned about it.

It might seem that Cheryl and I depend on each other like we depended on our husbands. Humans are very social creatures and we all depend on those in our lives to add to our happiness and well-being. Of course we'd be devastated if we didn't have this friendship, but we have proven that we have what it takes to go on. It's amazing the strength and adaptability one has when faced with changes that are beyond their control. Yes, we struggled through those times together, but the individual pain was our own, and we couldn't walk that road for the other.

"You don't make mistakes in my eyes," Cheryl told me once. "You merely have life experiences."

Those words still fill me with comfort. Cheryl was there to be my friend, never to judge me. She knew the emptiness - she was living it herself. She knew of the vast void that we often filled with the wrong things, temporary things, in our need to feel whole again. I don't want to think about how it would have been had I faced all the changes in my life without Cheryl by my side, knowing each step I took, she was on the same journey with me. We had gotten each other through a painful time in our lives and the experience had bonded us to a friendship that rarely exists in the world today. I trust Cheryl with my life and I know she has the same faith in me.

With healing comes the rebuilding of lives that had been in limbo as we let grief run its course. The time came when we both fell in love again and we were going in a new direction. Cheryl moved to Florida to marry Sid, but the distance between us can only be counted in miles.