How Sweet
"If you didn't care what happened to me,
and I didn't care for you,
we would zig-zag our way through the boredom and pain,
occasionally glancing up through the rain,
wondering which of the buggers to blame,
and watching...
for pigs on the wing."
"Pigs on the Wing" Pink Floyd
As I stated in a post several months ago, the most accurate depiction of my wife and I can be found in the portrayal of Raymond and Deborah Barone on Everybody Loves Raymond. I know that she loves me. I truly believe that she cares about me. But because of my lack of marriage common sense, she does, I'll admit, have to take care of not only four children, but also her husband. This can make even an angel like my wife a bit testy at times. A lot testy at times. So, the occasion for her to utter little words of romance or love does not present itself often among the necessity to correct me or exasperatingly tell me something for the fifth time that I should have heard by now.
I have a very bad knack for, seemingly effortlessly, annoying my wife. I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't mean to. I don't try to. I certainly don't want to, especially considering how I hate to incur her wrath. I love my wife dearly. She is the woman of my dreams, the one with whom I knew I wanted to spend my life right after our first date. Ok. Don't vomit. I don't mean to get all sappy, but I need to preface the little story I'm about to tell in order to demonstrate the little ways in which my wife endears me to her even more each day.
This weekend, my family experienced a tragedy. This was the very unexpected and severely unfair loss of my cousin's husband to a brain aneurism at the age of 32. That's just one of those untimely deaths that just doesn't make sense. He died at home with his three young daughters, who thought that daddy was sleeping, while my cousin was out. Man! As a father, that just hurts.
But here is the part where my wife made my day in a bizarre sort of way. I came downstairs to hear her finishing a telephone conversation with my sister--the discussion focused on the details of his death and the pending funeral plans. As my wife hung up the phone, we had a little exchange that went something like this: (I take some creative liberties here as I can't remember the exact wording)
Me: Was that my sister?
Wife: Yes. She said the funeral is Friday. Your cousin isn't doing so well. The girls have slept, but she can't. She just walks around the house kind of lost.
Me: That's terrible. That must be so hard.
Wife: Well, yeah. If something like that were to happen to you, I would be a mess. I would have to be on something.
Me: REALLY?
Wife: Of course.
Me: You would need to be medicated to deal with my death?
Wife: Well, yes.
Me: That's one of the nicest things you have ever said to me. I love you. (hugs)
Wife: (eyes rolling) You're silly.
See? I do ridiculous things like that--kind of spoiling the moment. But it really did touch me. I've often wondered how people would react to my dying--musing about haunting my own funeral to spy and hear what people say about me. Now I know that the love of my life will not be doing so well. While that sucks for her, it makes me feel good.
See? I'm doing it again. She's reading this, thinking I'm a complete moron. I love you, honey. Please don't be mad.
and I didn't care for you,
we would zig-zag our way through the boredom and pain,
occasionally glancing up through the rain,
wondering which of the buggers to blame,
and watching...
for pigs on the wing."
"Pigs on the Wing" Pink Floyd
As I stated in a post several months ago, the most accurate depiction of my wife and I can be found in the portrayal of Raymond and Deborah Barone on Everybody Loves Raymond. I know that she loves me. I truly believe that she cares about me. But because of my lack of marriage common sense, she does, I'll admit, have to take care of not only four children, but also her husband. This can make even an angel like my wife a bit testy at times. A lot testy at times. So, the occasion for her to utter little words of romance or love does not present itself often among the necessity to correct me or exasperatingly tell me something for the fifth time that I should have heard by now.
I have a very bad knack for, seemingly effortlessly, annoying my wife. I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't mean to. I don't try to. I certainly don't want to, especially considering how I hate to incur her wrath. I love my wife dearly. She is the woman of my dreams, the one with whom I knew I wanted to spend my life right after our first date. Ok. Don't vomit. I don't mean to get all sappy, but I need to preface the little story I'm about to tell in order to demonstrate the little ways in which my wife endears me to her even more each day.
This weekend, my family experienced a tragedy. This was the very unexpected and severely unfair loss of my cousin's husband to a brain aneurism at the age of 32. That's just one of those untimely deaths that just doesn't make sense. He died at home with his three young daughters, who thought that daddy was sleeping, while my cousin was out. Man! As a father, that just hurts.
But here is the part where my wife made my day in a bizarre sort of way. I came downstairs to hear her finishing a telephone conversation with my sister--the discussion focused on the details of his death and the pending funeral plans. As my wife hung up the phone, we had a little exchange that went something like this: (I take some creative liberties here as I can't remember the exact wording)
Me: Was that my sister?
Wife: Yes. She said the funeral is Friday. Your cousin isn't doing so well. The girls have slept, but she can't. She just walks around the house kind of lost.
Me: That's terrible. That must be so hard.
Wife: Well, yeah. If something like that were to happen to you, I would be a mess. I would have to be on something.
Me: REALLY?
Wife: Of course.
Me: You would need to be medicated to deal with my death?
Wife: Well, yes.
Me: That's one of the nicest things you have ever said to me. I love you. (hugs)
Wife: (eyes rolling) You're silly.
See? I do ridiculous things like that--kind of spoiling the moment. But it really did touch me. I've often wondered how people would react to my dying--musing about haunting my own funeral to spy and hear what people say about me. Now I know that the love of my life will not be doing so well. While that sucks for her, it makes me feel good.
See? I'm doing it again. She's reading this, thinking I'm a complete moron. I love you, honey. Please don't be mad.