Rob, Trying to find a way to summarize fifty-four years of sharing life together with you isn’t easy. I still remember well the first time I met you I was nineteen and you were twenty-two and you still had your long hair. You had lived a lot in your short life, from New York City, via the hippie scene in Haight Ashbury and a treehouse in Mendocino to a commune in New Mexico let’s just say you had been around. I on the other hand still lived in my parents’ house and had hardly been out of Colorado. We were total opposites in every way and yet there was something about your eyes and smile that spoke to me. I’m sure it made my parents nervous.
On April 15 you asked me out on our first date, you asked me to marry you on May 15, and we married three months and five days later. One year later we were on our way to the Navajo Reservation. What a trip. Somehow we managed to navigate the ups and downs of life having fun along the way. The memories that have come flooding back into my mind the last several days since you passed have reminded me about how well we really did fit together.
Saying goodbye to you is by far the hardest thing I’ve had to do. For a good part of my life, it’s been you and me and the wonderful family we created together. Your pride in our sons and grandkids was obvious from the start along with your love for me. You were my greatest fan in each of my endeavors. I’m not sure I know how to do me without you. You were not only the love of my life but my best friend.
When I walk past your chair I see your smile and your hand reaching out to give me a high five. If I head to the kitchen I see you cooking one of your outrageous breakfasts. You did love your beans and green chili. Cooking dinner together often got mixed with some crazy dance or conversation while we worked side by side. When I head back to do laundry I see you there creating another silver piece of jewelry. Always smiling as you showed me another new creation. I smile when I think of how often you told me over the years that you had reached the end of the internet.
Our lives weren’t perfect but in my view they were pretty close. The courage and strength you showed in the face of loss and physical challenges inspired me. I wanted to be a more caring and loving person because of you. Our long conversations about your newest discovery about God were something I will cherish. You studied and read theology endlessly but often you would simply smile with a twinkle in your eye and say, “The hippies were right”.
Watching you the last few days of your life I would never have thought you were nearing the end. You talked to anyone who would listen about your sons and grandkids, which was usually every hospital worker who walked into your room as you asked them about their day.
You were so proud of John, Tim, and James and the men they had become, and you would walk away from your times with them and tell me this is what life is all about. I hope you can see them now, for they have been my strength and help. How your eyes lit up each time you saw them or Dylan, Jade, Noah, Fiona, and Liam or heard their laughter. Fireworks, Halloween, Nuggets games, and so many other ordinary days won’t be the same without you.
I will always be grateful for this last year that we had together. You felt so good, and you had the old pep back in your step. You kept sharing your ever evolving and changing faith with me which seemed to get simpler and fresher with each day. Sometimes you would say to me I think I finally understand. “It’s so simple that it takes two of us to mess it up.” To you it was all about Jesus and Jesue was all about loving people.
I was blessed to have your love in my life and your encouragement to simply be me for all these years. Rest well you gave us a taste of heaven on this earth, and I will miss you every day.
