The saddest Perfect Verse…

In 1986 I formed a friendship at work, with a man I shall call Tom.  It was a platonic friendship.  A wonderful supportive friendship that sprang from shared humour and a sense of the ridiculous.

We kept in touch over the years, long after we’d both ceased working for the firm.

In 1995 I separated from my first husband.  Tom had separated from his wife shortly before this.  We were both going through a tough time and metaphorically held each others hands.

Eventually we both remarried. His new wife, whom I shall call Sue, was lovely.

They set up a cosy family home together; Tom forged strong relationships with Sue’s children.  He was so happy.  And so proud of his gorgeous wife.

When she had a stroke at the age of 55 his world came crashing down once again.

It left her incapacitated.  Sue remained in hospital for two years, learning to walk and talk again.  In the meantime he was busily adapting their home to accommodate her disabilities.  After two years he proudly brought her home and changed his working life to become her carer.

We had lunch a few months later. We talked of Sue in depth.  He told me that she was well aware of her disabilities.  He told me that she was insecure about his love for her, which had remained constant.

“I want a Perfect Verse, Jan.  I want to tell her that she’s everything to me that she always was.”

“Whenever you’re ready Tom. Just let me know.”

Over the next few months he would call.  ”I must do that Verse….just a bit busy at the moment….”

“That’s fine Tom. ”

Last February he phoned me. “Jan, I need that Perfect Verse for Sue. Can you help?”

“Of course I can.”

“She died last week. I’m sorry Jan, it’s going to have to be her eulogy.”

Sue would have loved the words we put together.  Sad to think that she never actually heard them.

Or maybe she did.

I’m holding the thought that maybe, just maybe, she heard them from a different place.

RIP lovely lady.