When I saw him sitting there, I knew what had happened. He was sitting alone, on her
favorite bench.
I saw a tear fall from his eyes. I walked over and spoke to him. He looked so sad and so
lost.
He looked up at me, and with tears streaming down his face, he said, “She’s gone.”

I sat down beside him, and put my arm around his shoulders, hoping to bring him some
kind of comfort.

It was hard to see a man of his strength break down like this. But Jean and he had been married for 45 years, he told me he’d lost his best friend. I sat and listened to him, as the memories flowed and his tears faded, and laughter
took their place. He talked about their wedding day, and the birth of their only child. Oh, how happy they’d been, they had a little “princess” and she looked just like her Mom. He told me how he walked Jamie down the aisle, and was
so happy for her, but so sad that he was losing his little, “Princess.”
He told me how it seemed she went from teething to
getting married over night. Now he had a wonderful little grandson, named after and looking just like him.
He was so proud, and he said that JJ (Jim Jr) had been the apple of his Grandma’s eye. Jean would still watch JJ grow, he said, only now she’d watch from her cloud.

He talked about so many things, how Jean had burned her very first meal she cooked for him, and he ate two helpings of everything, just so she wouldn’t feel bad. He said, “But boy, it sure did taste bad. But I couldn’t bear to see her cry anymore.” He laughed.

I had known Jim and Jean for 10 years, and admired their devotion and love for each other. As I sat there and listened to his memories, I hoped that one day I would find a love like the love that Jim and Jean had found.

It was getting dark, and I had to go, but I agreed to meet Jim at that bench every Wednesday, so he could share more memories. We did this for years, until Jim finally went to join Jean.

I lost my best friend the day he left, but I knew he went to be with his, and that eased my pain.
I kept this picture of Jim sitting on the bench, and I carry it with me on Wednesdays when I go to my favorite bench, so I won’t feel so alone and lost.

Copyright © Janice Jarnagin 2005