“You need a handsome man.”
I wasn’t looking for any advice, but recently got some anyway from my five year old grandson.
My daughter Nicole and grandkids had stopped over for a pizza party.
Nicole shook her head commenting, “Where’d he ever pick up that line?”
I quickly turned the topic over to the Mickey Mouse holiday puzzle in front of us.
It will be two years next week since my husband Richard passed from early onset dementia and other related health issues. He left us the day after Christmas.
In terms of holidays, Christmas has never been my favorite. Thanksgiving’s always ranked number one on my list.
Maybe it’s because I prefer gratitude to the greed that often blooms bright in December.
Yet I knew Christmas had snuck in the door once I noticed the annual Lutefisk dinner ads posted in the bathroom stalls at the local Lutheran church.
Still no handsome man was going on my wish lists and most of my Christmas decorations were donated as part of my recent move to a smaller home.
With that move, I’m now living a mile from the hospital where my husband died. And I need to drive by it every night to return home from work.
I’d recently found the gray December weather had made me blue, particularly once the annual holiday light display was turned on again at the hospital.
But one night last week I noticed for the first time a shining star to the north while driving by.
It rested atop the hospital’s brick tower where my husband spent his final days in hospice.
I found myself smiling as I looked up.
And then I turned the radio over to the all Christmas music station.
As light flurries began to fall, I continued driving north to pick up one potential gift I’d put on hold.
This one’s a gift for me.
And I know he will be for others through the volunteer hospice work we’ll be doing.
You see, I ended up taking my grandson’s advice after all.
I went and found myself a handsome man.
And it seems my four legged fellow already knows how to give perfect puppy kisses.