A few days ago, a gentleman in our parish died in a traffic "mishap". That is how our local radio station reported it. The word "mishap" always amuses me. I am not sure why as it is absolutely correct.
This gentleman was 53 years old. He and his wife celebrated their 25th anniversary last June. They have two children, both college age. I cannot even imagine his wife's grief.
When I was 20, I thought that I knew everything there was to know about love. Then I thought I knew everything there was to know about loss. It's amazing how young 20 is, in retrospect. I am not saying that I didn't love Steve. I am just saying that we did not have time for that love to simmer and stew and temper and actually become.
When you have lived with someone for 25 years and raised children together, your love becomes something in and of itself. It becomes that "something" that smooths over the rough spots and illuminates the joyous moments. It becomes what it was meant to be all along, God with you.
The hard thing to do, when the marriage is broken apart, is to remember that God is still with you.