To my dear wife: I feel a rolling warmth through my being every time I put your hand in mine. First I feel connected to you and then surrounded by you. Why should this be if I am claustrophobic? I ride elevators taking in all the oxygen there is so I can sigh a long prayer all the way to my destination floor. Yet, when you touch me I feel closed in and safe.
Even if your hand is sweaty from working out or warm because of a hot flash, I still want to squeeze it because it is you, and you squeeze back.
When you come home from work, I want to touch your shoulders and rub away the tension and my missing you.
I feel a thrill when I wake up in the morning and realize you are there. Even during the night if I wake and hear your patterned breathing, not talking to me at all, I smile because you are near.
Over three years ago, while each of us were alternatively keeping those hands to ourselves or stretching them Heavenward in grief, God gently put them together. I love you more now and recommit to you while asking God to help us walk hand in hand until death do us part.