It's Never Too Late To...Love Again

It was a bright spring day.

- Hope Irvin Marston & Gerald Borland

Hope: It was a bright spring day. The kind of day my husband, Arthur, and I would have spent hiking in the Adirondacks. But Arthur had died two years earlier, in 2014, and I didn’t hike anymore. I hardly went out at all, except for church, doctor’s appointments and groceries. It was too painful to come home to a quiet house. It felt even quieter and emptier now that our Bernese mountain dog had died too.

Arthur and I were childless, so for the 53 years of our marriage, we were everything to each other. Seeing our old hiking sticks in the garage or the chair where Arthur liked to watch sports on TV made me long for his company. For his bright blue eyes and how they used to tell me, “Honey, I’m glad you’re here.” I tried to keep busy—gardening, reading and writing at my computer. Since retiring from my job as a librarian in a junior high school, I had authored more than two dozen books, most of them for kids.

But nothing brought the joy it used to.

None of my immediate family live in New York State. Many friends stopped by, but I missed having a companion. About 15 months after Arthur passed, I met a middle-aged, divorced woman who visited our church. She told me she was praying for a new husband. That wasn’t my goal. I was 81 years old, and I’d already been given a wonderful husband. But I started asking the Lord for a special man friend. Someone who would listen. Someone who would be there for me.

Jerry: My wife’s heart had been failing for more than a year. Norma died in August 2014. After her funeral, I went through the house and gave our three daughters all her things. Later, I asked for one photo back. But that was it. I couldn’t bear any more reminders.