NEVER TO OLD TO LOVE

This is a story of two coming together as they knew each other for years as friends and the commitment they shared.

NEVER TO OLD TO LOVE.

 

                Often, I would have both a husband and a wife in hospice care. It is not unusual because as we age, we get to an age where we become frail. Often, we wind in care together. Both suffer something diagnosed as an end-of-life issue.

                Juan and Roberta were teachers in another country when they were younger. She was a chemist, and he was a Spanish language teacher. You consider his profession not as attractive as hers. What made him unique? He was born and raised in Montana. He was the son of a teacher and an engineer who did not speak Spanish, the language he taught. So, one can only imagine he did not fit the stereotype of a Spanish teacher in Costa Rica. But there he was. They had prepared for decades and had known each other as close friends for over thirty years. Then the day came. He would retire and move to the United States somewhere in Florida. He was to teach as he started to say his goodbyes to the last term. He tells the story that something came over him. He had never been married before, nor had Roberta. She would tell me that neither had any severe relationships for all the years they had known each other.

                Yet he would pack his bags and leave the school on that date. As he pondered his next life’s adventure, he thought sixty-five years was living enough to contribute to the lives of others. Now, it was time to set out and relax on a beach somewhere in sunny Florida. But as he tells the story, all is not rosy. As they got closer, he realized he cared for Roberta. Even more than he thought. Yes, she was always available for conversations, dinners with friends, and just those hellos every morning during the week. That would end, and Juan could not come to terms with that. He concluded he could not just go off and would never see Roberta again.

                Thus, the title of my story is “Never Too Old to Love.” Roberta tells me she got a knock at her door early in the morning before six, unheard of in her or any generation before her. Juan knew he could only visit with a woman when it was public and with others. Roberta remembers her father was rigorous. But there he was at her door, knocking loud enough she did not want the neighbors to get the wrong impression. So, she quickly opened the door and had Juan step into a small porch area. She said to have a conversation with him without the neighbors listening. It was funny when she told me this story; she would say to me he had never been in her home. Always on the porch, stoop. Roberta explained that Juan tended to think with his heart and not his brain. On subjects most would pay no attention to, Juan would become emotionally involved, which she told me she never really understood. Juan told Roberta he could not go off without her by his side, that he had been confused with her always being there, and that he never thought how lonely it would be without her. As Roberta told this story, you could see a twinkle in this ninety-plus-year-old lady. And thus, the adventure began for these two sixty-five-year-old lovers.

                Roberta decided she would retire also, so they were married just days later and were on the road to Florida. When I met them, they were in their mid-nineties, living in an assisted living home and both in hospice, and Juan had long left Roberta in his mind because of the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s. But she had her wits about her. So, when I visited them, she would tell stories about the last thirty years or so they were together. The way she spoke of her love made me hope my bride, even though I had not been the perfect husband, would talk fondly about me.

                The day came when I got the call. Juan was gone. I went quickly and as soon as possible to be with Roberta. They had already got Juan, and when I entered their apartment, it was just Roberta sitting in a chair. She had photos spread out all over her lap and the floor. I feared she would not last long after his death. So often, that is the way it works. So remarkable was my life with this man, she told me. I lived sixty-five years before I fell in love, and he was a great man who loved me. Roberta and I talked for what seemed like hours, then I prayed with her and left her. I continued to visit her until her death six months later. And at every visit, she had a new story. This couple had put a lifetime of living into not even half their lives. Oh yes, she passed away not from loneliness but from the cause of her hospice issue. I am saying this to tell you. Their love and memories lived long after he died in the eyes of this sweet lady. She never lost the sense of love. They had thirty-five years to make great memories.

 

Blessings, Roberta, and Juan.

Author's Note

This is just one story in hundreds I have written. I have two books currently out. Remember Me (End-of-life stories through the eyes of a Hospice Chaplain) and Delayed Honor. They can be found on my web page, Remembermejw.com, or by searching my name. John Wenderlein. Blessings [email protected]