Reflections on the Past Twelve Years

Twelve years ago today, the life I had known for 37 years came abruptly to an end − my husband's physical presence was no longer a part of it. Soon after we began dating in 1969, I knew no matter what the future held, he would always be a part of me. As I reflect on the years since, several things stand out:

• I still grieve and miss Steve every minute of every day, but I've learned that life continues to have good moments
• Loneliness doesn't have the same meaning. I do not get lonely when by myself, but I yearn for Steve's company
• The only real cure for sadness is to concentrate on others and try to make this world a better place, something we all should do
• Writing to Steve on important dates in our lives is cathartic, and I still continue to journal daily
• Writing has been God's gift to me. Although I've always written fairly well, my genre and focus has changed from business and formal to inspirational and warm and fuzzy
• Although there is nothing personal I wouldn't trade to have Steve in my life again, I realize there are  positives which would not have occurred otherwise such as starting a senior social group at my church. (God  really does help us to make lemonade out of lemons)
• My independence has grown. I've always been capable of functioning on my own, but I am capable of more than I might have ever guessed  

Steve always said we made each other better people, and he is still influencing me toward that end. And even though life certainly didn't turn out the way we expected − only one of us to enjoy seeing our sons married and settled in life, and delighting in becoming a grandparent; taking trips in our retirement; and just growing old together − I live somewhat vicariously through others who are lucky to have what we could not. That too is one of those moments that still brings a little unexpected happiness into my life. 

Saying Goodbye to Old Friends

It's strange to think of  those who own a business as friends, but that's what made Saffees special. Last week, it was announced they were closing all of their stores at the end of the year due to health problems in the family, and no desire by the fourth generation to take over the business.

Businesses come and go, and that's a fact of life, but not many can equal Saffees. For four decades, I have shopped at and loved this store. My husband and I even became friends with members of the third generation when Saffees opened its doors in my city, and before they assumed ownership from their parents. They knew what I liked and how to fit me, but that's not all.

In Chicken Soup for the Soul: Random Acts of Kindness, I wrote a story relating how they carried on a tradition begun by my husband to always have a gift from Saffees for me under the Christmas tree. They knew how devastated I was at the loss of my husband just a few short months before the holiday, and wanted to make certain that I had a gift from Saffees under my tree at least one more time.

Since then, they've occasionally delivered clothing to my house, and most recently, a selection of "mother of the groom" dresses from which to choose. Three bulging discs prevented my going to the store so Steve, who operates Saffees in Lawrence, picked out five or six formal dresses from another location and had one of their staff bring them to me to try on at home.

All of the gowns would have worked, but there was a stand-out. Since I'd previously done a little panicking and had another dress in reserve, they told me to keep it until I decided if I wanted the extra dress.  No brainier − it was perfect! The dress was gorgeous and I could even wear my lumbar brace underneath without detection. I just needed to justify having a second dress, but this was clearly the one.

My husband could always pick out clothes for me, and so could the owners Steve, his sister Marie and her husband Ronnie. I'm going to miss having people who knew me so well, but most of all, I'm going to miss their caring, and the integrity and personalization with which they operated their business...they were truly friends.