The Anniversary

For fifty-two years of their married life, Les and Barb Traff called July 8^th their anniversary. It was a day to celebrate their love and to reminisce about their years together. As the years went by, there were more and more reasons to celebrate, as well as an increasing number of events and people to reminisce about. I’m not saying all of their anniversaries were exciting or even joyful. I don’t know that, and I suspect that they may have had some bumps along the way, as most married couples do. I do know that there were many dinners out and Hallmark cards with lovely sentiments shared between them over those 52 years. They had a sustained commitment that lived itself out in backrubs and pot roasts and mystery trips and reunions. They had each other.

Wedding Day

Young love

Les and Barb with Little Bobby

Barb, Les, and the boys

Family vacation

Les and Barb with the grandkids

 On July 8, 2014, their 53^rd anniversary, all of that changed forever.

Barb was hospitalized and recovering from a major cardiac arrest. We had been uncertain if she would even survive a mere two weeks previous, but at this point she was stable. Her short term memory and other cognitive functions were in the process of recovering. We were uncertain how much she would get back, or if she would remain at her current level. There were huge gaps – some, we all laughed at, and others were more frustrating for Barb and for her loved ones. Les was ever-vigilant, always at her side, day after long-hospital-day. Until he wasn’t.

At the hospital

Waiting for news about Barb

More waiting and wondering.....

R.J. and I arrived at the hospital late in the day (maybe 4:00 p.m.?) that day. Les was not in his usual hangouts (Barb’s room or the visitor lounge), so we went to the nurses’ station to check in and see how Barb’s day was going. The nurses were concerned, as Les hadn’t been there all day. We could hear Barb in the background saying, “Where’s my husband? It’s my anniversary. I want my husband.”

From there, everything happened so quickly. R.J. called Les’s cell. No answer. I think we confirmed with Barb that he hadn’t been there all day. We wished her a happy anniversary. At about that time, my cell phone rang. It was one of Les’s sisters. She was clearly upset and wanted to talk to R.J. He walked away from the nurses’ station to take the call. When he returned, he was visibly shaken. “My dad shot himself. He’s dead.” The nurses instantly went into caretaker mode – caretakers for us. They did their best to comfort us, asked us what we needed, and basically made sure we stayed upright.

I’ve blogged about the rest of this day before; I don’t need to get into the details of how we told Barb or other family members. Suffice it to say, it was awful.

One day, one decision changed everything. July 8 was no longer a day Barb loved. She often expressed her wish that Les’s death had been any other day (or preferably, never, of course). Barb lived through two more anniversaries without Les. Those were hard days. I spent time with her and took her out to lunch on those days. She threw away all the romantic cards with the “I’ll always love you” sentiment. “He didn’t mean it. He left.” Barb’s broken heart was there for all to see. She was more than just half of “Les & Barb” but they married when she was only 16 years old. It was hard for her to figure out who she was, without Les. She was more resilient than we dared hope, but still – the days and especially the nights alone were so difficult.

Barb, hanging on to life

Barb passed away on December 2, 2016. We buried her ashes in the same grave with Les, just over a year ago, and right around the time of their anniversary. It’s hard to believe that we have been without her earthly presence for about a year and a half now. Then again, life is going on without her. Her son Michael married Amy last New Year’s Eve. She would have taken great joy in that event, even from afar. She would have bugged Mike for details and pictures. She would have demanded a visit. The everyday joys of the Alabama family would have been passed along to me with a high degree of regularity, as Barb took great interest and pride in all the accomplishments of her children and grandchildren. Barb would be completely head over heels about the news that Laura and Andrew are expecting her first great grandchild. And if Les were alive, he too would have been interested in all the details of all these events, particularly the part where his great grandchild is a girl. He had a soft touch for the little girls, after raising four boys. They would have made amazing great grandparents, and I am sad that we don’t get to witness them sharing our joy. The separation of death is so cold.

Recently, I watched a podcast where a young man shared his thoughts as he was dealing with the impending death of his grandfather, who was like a second dad to him. One statement this young man made about his visit with his terminally ill grandfather has stuck with me (rough quote): “You can’t let the fear of pain stop you from going through the experience.” Grieving is a series of painful experiences. We each go through those experiences in our own way, but we can’t avoid the pain, nor should we try to do so. A great big love, like the love we had for Les and Barb, will create a great big hurt when we can no longer express that love in a tangible way.

July 8, 2018, will be a day of remembering. I will remember the pain, but I will also remember the love. This is the day Les and Barb Traff were married, 57 years ago. Without their love for each other, the man I love would not be here. Life is precious. Hang on to it for all you’re worth. Enjoy the days you can enjoy, but don’t be afraid of experiencing the pain of life, either. It’s all part of the package we’re given.

Oh, and remember – I love you.