THE POEM

The years were flying by and for some reason Eunice and I were growing closer. Closer together than we had ever been. Our understanding of each other had reached its peak after 40 years of marriage. It was then that we both started to realize that we always loved each other even through the rocky times.

I was 62 and Eunice was 57. She had completely come out of her shell and she was happier than she had been since she was a child. Her poetry, which was almost always written in response to a death or expressions of loneliness had changed into expressions of hope. She was writing about Spring and rebirth. We now started to discuss our golden wedding anniversary and how we were going to celebrate it on that magic date of July 10th, 2010. We were both still young and in our prime and had no reason to think that would change. But it did.

In late August of 2001, Eunice was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer in her ear and neck. It was as if with all her personal tragedies and grief through the years finally gone and only sunshine and happiness ahead, life apparently did not want her to have these things. Through the next 10 months of operations, radiation, chemotherapy, pain and suffering she still remained upbeat to the end. Eunice had a way of reaching out to people and making them feel special. Everyone who came in contact with her, loved her and felt better for the experience. She was special.

At Eunice memorial service there were about 200 people in attendance yet I still received so many requests from people who couldn't make it that I had to set up another memorial where another 200 people came. If the measure of a person is what other people think of them then Eunice was a remarkable woman. She was amazing.

I am not a religious man nor am i a spiritual one. I consider myself to be logical and somewhat of a skeptic. Yet in the weeks after Eunice died, I was constantly examining and re-examining our life together. I knew there were things IO did that hurt her deeply and I wondered if she loved me. It was constantly on my mind and in my dreams.

One morning I awoke after dreaming this question. I arose and sat on the edge of the bed and there at my feet was a scrap of paper. I picked it up and it was a poem written in Eunice hand in which she answered my question. She did indeed love me as much as I loved her. I figured my dog, who slept at the foot of my bed and had a habit of picking up pieces of paper and dropping them, put it there. But considering it was one of Eunice works I had never read before, who knows.

I want to think Eunice put it there because it would have been something she would have done. Why do the people you love leave you before their time? It's a mystery of life that may never be answered. Then I realized she didn't really leave me because she is always with me insde and she will always be. I now know that the people you love can never die. So maybe that is the answer.

The poem. LOST YOUTH

Did I ever tell you I loved you...
It's been so long,
Time changes,
Rearranges;
We're not the same...
There is gray in your hair
and tears in your eyes
I've never seen before;
I'm not shy anymore
hanging on to your every breath...
Your every word...
When did we change...
Lost, is our dreams,
Lost is our youth of yesterday.

Eunice Verdi