The very first love letter I received from you was just one line, written on the back of your high school photo.
“Tu eres la mujer de mis suenos.”
You are the woman of my dreams.
It really worked for me that you were fluent in Spanish.
You were 16. I was 15. We had no idea, did we? What was ahead. What was to grow between us, deeper, raw edges and all.
That the mixed tape which included Boyz II Men would still make us laugh 17 years later.
We grew up together. We became individuals, together. We became grown-ups, together.
We listened to Spanish love songs on repeat, together.
Each boy was born and we pressed further into the unknown.
We beat the odds when they told us parents of autism have an 80% divorce rate. Though we did test that theory…
And then our daughter was born. Born asleep. Born into God’s arms.
And you held her and I saw love unlike any I’d ever known. Your rough and strong hands delicately cradling her earthly vessel. Singing to her like we always had every other baby. I don’t think we realized what that day would do to us. For us. That it would solidify with iron, the heat and the fire, our hearts as one.
Because even though on our wedding day we became One Of Two, it was still weak. Young and vulnerable.
They don’t tell you it’s so much work when they congratulate you on your nuptials.
Each event since that first day of “us” has filled in the crevices. Love-grout. Life-putty. Smoothed out again and again.
Yet there were times the seals cracked. Pressure was let out until we found our way back.
You never raise your voice at me. After 12 years of marriage, that helps.
But somehow in trying to pen my thoughts to you in this love letter, I can’t find words for the biggest gift you gave me. How can I form them? How do you thank someone for leading you to your salvation?
I grew up in church, but through you came to know real faith. The epitome of “leader”, you placed my hand in God’s, forever. You see Him in me when you look at me. I can see it in your eyes. And each time you see it, that fire burns hotter. Glowing for Him. For you. For the sweet young souls we care for. Men in the making, boys, who will be discerning and Spirit-led and giving, and who will above all love.
Just like their Father.
Somehow through the wreckage of grief, we turned this into the most powerful thing we could. Growth. Deep, soul shaking, awe-inspiring, toe-curling, passionate growth.
We don’t rush the loss, or sweep it under the rug. We feel each moment. Father’s day was crippling for you, but it had to be. The missing cuts deep.
When I am sad, you are there to dry my tears. When I am Spirit-struck you are there to dry my tears. When I am enraptured and thrilled (by you), you are there to dry my tears.
For all this I say
Linked up with Ann today at A Holy Experience. Click over to read more love letters.