If ever you’re in my arms again
This time I’ll love you much better.

Peabo Bryson

I would like to share a love story with you. I received a phone call the other night. It was from my good friend, Cajun Pam from Louisiana. She blurted out, “John had his memorial on Memorial Day.”

”What?” I exclaimed. “Did John die?”

“Yes,” she said, “he died peacefully.” She told me that the ceremony was performed by their friend, Father Adams.

Cajun Pam seemed to be OK as we talked about the loss of John.

I had gone to Louisiana to visit Pam and John (who I’d only met on the Internet) in late October of 2003. Pam was thriving in her “Neon Hair Salon.” People came from miles around to be pampered and especially to be in the energy and the chatting of all who were there.

I recall upon arriving in Louisiana that Pam showed me to the guest room where I would be staying. It had a ceiling fan and I noticed small squares of white material on each fan blade. That was part of John’s creativity. He had wanted the room to smell pretty for me so he connected one square of fabric softener to each blade so that when the fan was turned on, the room would be fragrant. I pointed it out to Pam and she said what a caring and thoughtful gesture this was of John toward me. And I agreed.

My visit only lasted for five days and the days were filled with fun and adventures. John and I talked and he planned on taking me trolling to catch shrimp. We kept waiting for the right afternoon, depending on how John was feeling. While I was there, John had just begun kidney dialysis several times a week and would drive himself to the hospital. When Pam and I returned home that day, John was lying down. He was weak and didn’t think he could go out on the boat and go trolling.

Disappointed, I still was hopeful that we would share this new experience together.

It didn’t happen. John had no energy to go out on the little boat. John had a playful, teasing way about him and you couldn’t help but like him. I recall feeling so bad for him when he was nauseous and had to rest or move around slowly.

Getting back to the night Cajun Pam called me on the phone… I told her, “There’s one thing I regret and that is that you, John and I never got to go trolling.”

“Miss Sugar,” Pam exclaimed, “we won’t have any regrets here. No woulda, coulda, shoulda’s. No regrets! Everything has happened as it was supposed to. John lived a full life and we shared so many special times together.” John had told Pam that he was ready to meet his maker and was ready to see what was on the other side. This made it easier for Pam to deal with John’s passing.

In a recent email to me, Pam shared John’s condition. “Not at all exciting of a letter, I just wanted to let you know a little outline of what’s going on with John. He is extremely thin and weak and has almost no appetite at all. He sleeps two thirds of the time and can just walk a few steps at a time. He is on oxygen almost all of the time.
“He can only speak in a whisper and is kept almost pain-free with morphine and the dose increases almost weekly.

“We still get up at 4:15 am, three times a week for dialysis and drive two 60-mile round-trips before 10 am.

“If he’s contented eating just a little, I spend less time cooking and more time with him. His weakness just gives me a reason to hold him. We don’t have to go anywhere to feel our love.

“The oxygen he is on keeps him breathing and you know that’s enough for me until God is ready for him. Each day is another gift, the breath of life, for the man who God gave me to love.

“With no pain when he is awake, we spend most of our time going over good times and being thankful. We not only have our love for each other, but for our families as well.

“His whispering sounds are soft and loving. I know it’s hard for him to speak but he still does and every word is priceless. The new bed will allow me to snuggle up next to him.

“On the mornings of dialysis, I call the drives our ‘early morning dates.’ The sun is just beginning to come up as we drive. We sometimes talk, we sometimes just drive in silence, both inwardly reflecting on life in one form or another. As our dates are going on, I notice he lays the seat back a bit and sleeps on and off, but I still love doing this for him. I never leave John except for necessities and I have someone stay with him when I’m not there. I love him so much. Every moment, every action, every word is precious and nothing will take that away.”

I had stayed the five days of my visit with Pam and John. We gathered things into the van to go to the airport. John was in the driver’s seat and Pam was in the passenger’s seat. Pam had forgotten her water bottle and said that she would be right back. She got out of the van and began walking toward the house. I was in the back seat as John watched her. His comment about Pam still echoes in my mind. “God, I love her.”

There was silence – nothing more needed to be said of this man who adored his wife. On our way to the airport, I placed a small, hand-held tape recorder between the two of them so I could always hear their voices.

Let’s eavesdrop on part of the conversation during our drive to the airport.

I asked Pam and John to tell me how they met. Pam laughed as she recalled telling the story in her Southern accent. “Once when John passed in front of the house and he fell and I said, ‘You look stupid!’ and he looked up at me and said, ‘No stupider than you sittin’ there waitin’ to see me coming around and around.’ John commented, ‘Yeah, it was freezin’ cold, too.’

“The next thing when we were 13, he decides he’s gonna get a snake and put a snake around his waist under his shirt and he comes to my house and says, ‘C’mon. Let me give you a hug!’ I said, ‘No. You know my daddy said we could just hold hands.’

“‘Well, I’m gonna hug you anyway.’ And I felt this snake around his waist and I pushed him back.”

Then Pam went on to say about John: “He had a smile from ear to ear and beautiful green eyes and curly strawberry blonde hair and he smelled like Vitalis.” [laughter} “Yup, he sure did. I liked his little cocky attitude and his self-assuredness and he was just fun. I was just a little, bitty ol’ skinny girl in love with him, I guess. As much as I love him now.”

When I asked John how he really felt about Pam, he commented that he couldn’t put it into words how he really felt.

Pam went on to say, “He told me when asking me to marry him, ‘I love you’ for the very first time. I was now 38 and he used to comment, ‘I don’t know if I really know what love is, Pam. But I know that I think of you differently than anybody else in my whole life. If I think of someone, I kinda compare them to you – if that’s what you call love.’

“And one day he called me at work and he said, ‘I’ve got something to ask you.’ And I said, ‘What?’ He said, ‘I love you, did you hear what I said? I love you. I wanna know will you marry me?’ And I said, ‘Yes!’

I commented that this was such a great story and Pam concluded, “And here we are, ‘til death do us part.”

It’s amazing that I happened to capture those words on tape.

Here they were – a beautiful couple so much in love. And as I write this, he is gone. And like Pam said, “There are no regrets.” They continued to love and share their love and will continue to forever.

If ever you’re in my arms again
This time, I’ll hold you forever.
This time will never end.

Gerri Magee is director of advertising and public relations and assistant to the editor of phenomeNEWS. She continues to share her thoughts “On The Path” in this column. You can write her at gerri@phenomenews.com.