Word of advice to lovers

Still grieving over the fresh wound that is my wife’s death, I am comforted by the fact that I always tried to make “I love you” the last words I said when we parted.

“Drive carefully; I love you.” “Sweet dreams; I love you.” “Have a nice day; I love you.” It began to sound automatic, like an afterthought, but I made sure to say it, always conscious that someday there would be a last time. I didn’t want to have that regret. I always was nervous on those occasional times I neglected doing it or simply forgot.

Red would laugh at me when I hugged Willow The Best Dog There Is™ for no other reason than I knew my furry companion would be gone in a few years. But treasuring moments as they happen — remembering how fleeting it all can be — etches the memories that much deeper into the soul, to be called back when haunted by their absence.

I have regrets, but not saying “I love you” enough is not among them. My word of advice to those who love.

Attention must be paid

Dejah is upside down and seemingly asleep on the floor.

But when I say, “Oh, there’s that Dejah girl,” she wags her tail. Nothing else moves, just the tail.

After the wag subsides, I add, “what a good dog,” and the tail wags again.

Amused, I sit down to write this down so I remember the moment, and while I’m writing she rolls onto her side and sighs.

I think I may have missed a belly-rub opportunity.

Serendipity at the crossroads

Talking with my daughter-in-law tonight, I was struck by the number of times serendipity seems to have changed the direction of my life.

Not long after attending a high school presentation by a local college about the value of a liberal arts education, but preferring to go to school somewhere in the Midwest, I was recruited by Ripon College, a liberal arts school in the Midwest.

Four days before graduating from Ripon and wishing I could stay in Wisconsin, I walked into a radio station in Waupaca and learned they needed a news director.

Out of work as a newly “born again” Christian, I tuned into my favorite Christian radio station and heard the general manager talking about how they wanted to start up a news department.

Red went looking for a record collector so she could give away her LPs and found me.

Perhaps the most amazing example came after I was offered the job as editor of the Door County Advocate. I was unsure whether to take the job or stay at my position in Green Bay. Red and I visited the county and happened upon the newspaper office, which was closed.

On the wall outside the front door was an engraved reproduction of the front page of the first Advocate, published March 22, 1862. It so happens I was also born on March 22, a few decades after that. My time at the Advocate became the highlight of my career.

And here I am at another crossroads, having lost my beloved Red. I almost can hardly wait to see what God will show me next.