THE RING ON JENNIFER'S HAND

Milton, here for Kristy:

Leaving Puerto Rico was hard Thursday. We have left Jennifer and her little ones many times as we watched them drive away from the airport terminal and Kristy and I took our bags to be checked and get boarding passes.

There have been tears at that airport as we separated for months not sure when we would see each other again, but knowing that we would see each other. Those kiddies get my heart and their loving kisses melt the toughest papa. 

I told Jennifer I was here for her. I told her I could not replace her mom but that I was here for her and her sister Julie. It has always been that way. That have top priority access no matter what meeting I’m in or what my schedule is. Family comes first only second to God.

Jennifer was driving me to the airport and I was sitting in the passenger seat talking and then I saw it--The ring. I had been in San Juan for almost a week but for some reason I hadn't notice "The Ring" on Jennifer's right ring finger, but I saw it as we pulled into the airport.

It was the ring  that symbolized my deepest love. The ring Kristy wore for 37 years as my token to her of faithful love and my  commitment to love, honor, and cherish her. The ring that said you are mine and I am yours. Jennifer now wears the ring that Kristy wore with sweet, dear commitment. 

That ring said I love you more than any other. You are the focus of my eyes, my heart, my service, my passion and my pleasure. You are mine and I am yours.

I still wear my wedding ring. It is my vow to cherish, to honor, to provide, protect, to hold dear, to stand close with listening ear and passionate heart to my beloved. 

She kept her vow until death did part us. She never failed, wavered, withdrew, turned cold in heart, withheld her charms, turned me aside, ignored my desires, refused her sweetness. Never in 37 years did my beloved look to another for her passion, pleasure, or protection.

I was there for her and she was there for me. 

Looking at that ring revealed again the depth, the height, the broadness of our love. Our love story was rare. It had significant example. We were naive, pure, pollyanish, different than culture, stretching for a love beyond mere fleshly commitment. 

Now that ring is worn by our youngest. She looks at it with highest regard and respect. It means something that only 37 years of faithful love can reveal. It is a picture of our lives--a rare picture of two who were one--one flesh, one love, one passion, one purpose. We were one.

Where is my dear helper? My body, my spirit, my soul cries out, “Where are you? You are mine. I am yours. Where are you? Come to me. I need you.”

These cries are not premeditated. They just scream out of my being before I can control them. They are not cries of one who doesn’t believe, know, or grasp this separation. They are natural, unplanned, expressions of inner reflexes that are not willful, deliberate appeals. They are the subconscious body, soul, and spirit of a soul mate missing the dearest part of his being. “Where is she? Why doesn’t she come to me?” -- the deeper part of my being cries.

It will not happen in this life. I know what has happened. She is in heaven and I am here and we will be together again. But my flesh feels loss that should not be. ”How can this be right," my body, my spirit, my soul,  pleads?

She is gone. I am here. We will reunite, but this doesn’t feel natural.

This is the struggle of two hearts that beat as one for 37 years and are now torn apart and the heart that is left is broken and cannot find its rhythm.