Lost Love
I just finished reading Mitch Albom’s book, “The Five People You Meet in Heaven” and my heart skipped a beat. My mind said, “Oh Yes”, and I sighed a sigh of understanding as I read these words:
Lost love is still love, Eddie. It takes a different form, that’s
all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle
their hair or move them around on a dance floor. But when
those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory
becomes your partner. You nurture it. You Hold It. You
dance with it. “Life has to end,” she said. “Love Doesn’t.”
all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle
their hair or move them around on a dance floor. But when
those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory
becomes your partner. You nurture it. You Hold It. You
dance with it. “Life has to end,” she said. “Love Doesn’t.”
And my heart said “Davy” as it has for 70 years. I never before really understood why I could never let him go.
I was 17 when I first met Davy and never dreamt that I would find David Snyder attractive. He was long and lean, about six feet tall with close cropped curly brown hair, sharp features and beautiful eyes. He was not handsome, not when I first met him. He became handsome to me later. He also had a great sense of humor and loved to tease. That was all I knew about him, that and seeing him often when I visited my friend, Luby. One day, at her house, he was stretched out on the floor. We began bantering, trying to outdo one another. Then he motioned to me to sit on the floor beside him and I did. After one of my sly remarks, he pulled me over, looked at me seriously and said, “Can we stop this now. Just let me take you dancing Saturday night.” I think I fell in love that moment.
Dancing was our form of recreation. We would travel north or south to where one of the big bands was playing and dance the night away. That was not quite all. Because we lived near the ocean, we found places to stop where the waves broke in silvery bands and we necked. (Necking is what we called it then.) Necking meant kissing, a little touching (by him of course), and professing our love over and over again.
Then, one evening, he gave me my ring and we discussed our wedding. It would be on New Year’s Eve with the hands of the clock moving to twelve. We would start a new life in a New Year. We even planned what we would wear. He would wear an all white suit and shirt. I would wear a white suit with a long white skirt and white hat. It was perfect . . until the night I lost him.
My mother hated Davy. I never understood why. I still don’t. But then again, she hated most of my close friends. She found reasons to hate Davy and she used them all. On that ever-remembered night, before I left to join him, and Helen who was double dating with us, my mother screamed at me saying all the things I didn’t want to hear. I joined my Davy in a horrible mood. I didn’t tell him how badly I felt. When he started teasing me, I couldn’t bear it. I just snapped at him and handed him back his ring.
It’s important to stop here and say that I loved my mother and I still do. She was controlling and I would not be controlled. She raised a daughter who would become a controlling mother and make many of the same mistakes. My mother was hysterical over everything; I was hysterical over some things. I’m so sorry for both of us.
Back to thinking about Davy . . . If the story I was told is true, Helen invited Davy to her house for dinner the next night. Two months later I heard they had married on New Year’s Eve with the hands of the clock moving to twelve. He was in his white suit and white shirt. She wore a white suit with a long white skirt and white hat . . . AND MY ENGAGEMENT AND WEDDING RINGS! How do I know that? Friends of mine who attended the wedding told me.
My heart was truly broken . . . but the story doesn’t stop there.
I married, had a baby boy, and subsequently divorced my husband. In fact, I had several divorces. All of my marriages were short lived. They all dissolved because I didn’t want to be with the men I married. So I sent them away. But I did want my babies and, in that era, I had to be married to have babies.
One day, when my son was about two years old, I received a telephone call from Davy. He was working here in San Diego and wanted to know if I would have lunch with him. Without hesitation I replied, “I would love to.”
I met him and I loved him just as much. Sitting across from him at lunch was tearing at my soul. He had matured. He was handsomer than I remembered. He was a strong and sensitive man who met my eyes with tenderness. After lunch we sat in his car, saying little, just being together. That is when he asked me to have dinner with him. And I answered, “I can’t. You must go back to Helen and I must go back to my son.”
Then he said these words that I have never forgotten, “Do you know that you broke my heart?” And I replied, “Darling, we broke each other’s hearts.”
That was the last time that I was with Davy. Do I think of him? Oh, yes. I remember him and I long for him. Of all the loved ones who have gone before me, I pray it is Davy that I first meet in heaven.
I was 17 when I first met Davy and never dreamt that I would find David Snyder attractive. He was long and lean, about six feet tall with close cropped curly brown hair, sharp features and beautiful eyes. He was not handsome, not when I first met him. He became handsome to me later. He also had a great sense of humor and loved to tease. That was all I knew about him, that and seeing him often when I visited my friend, Luby. One day, at her house, he was stretched out on the floor. We began bantering, trying to outdo one another. Then he motioned to me to sit on the floor beside him and I did. After one of my sly remarks, he pulled me over, looked at me seriously and said, “Can we stop this now. Just let me take you dancing Saturday night.” I think I fell in love that moment.
Dancing was our form of recreation. We would travel north or south to where one of the big bands was playing and dance the night away. That was not quite all. Because we lived near the ocean, we found places to stop where the waves broke in silvery bands and we necked. (Necking is what we called it then.) Necking meant kissing, a little touching (by him of course), and professing our love over and over again.
Then, one evening, he gave me my ring and we discussed our wedding. It would be on New Year’s Eve with the hands of the clock moving to twelve. We would start a new life in a New Year. We even planned what we would wear. He would wear an all white suit and shirt. I would wear a white suit with a long white skirt and white hat. It was perfect . . until the night I lost him.
My mother hated Davy. I never understood why. I still don’t. But then again, she hated most of my close friends. She found reasons to hate Davy and she used them all. On that ever-remembered night, before I left to join him, and Helen who was double dating with us, my mother screamed at me saying all the things I didn’t want to hear. I joined my Davy in a horrible mood. I didn’t tell him how badly I felt. When he started teasing me, I couldn’t bear it. I just snapped at him and handed him back his ring.
It’s important to stop here and say that I loved my mother and I still do. She was controlling and I would not be controlled. She raised a daughter who would become a controlling mother and make many of the same mistakes. My mother was hysterical over everything; I was hysterical over some things. I’m so sorry for both of us.
Back to thinking about Davy . . . If the story I was told is true, Helen invited Davy to her house for dinner the next night. Two months later I heard they had married on New Year’s Eve with the hands of the clock moving to twelve. He was in his white suit and white shirt. She wore a white suit with a long white skirt and white hat . . . AND MY ENGAGEMENT AND WEDDING RINGS! How do I know that? Friends of mine who attended the wedding told me.
My heart was truly broken . . . but the story doesn’t stop there.
I married, had a baby boy, and subsequently divorced my husband. In fact, I had several divorces. All of my marriages were short lived. They all dissolved because I didn’t want to be with the men I married. So I sent them away. But I did want my babies and, in that era, I had to be married to have babies.
One day, when my son was about two years old, I received a telephone call from Davy. He was working here in San Diego and wanted to know if I would have lunch with him. Without hesitation I replied, “I would love to.”
I met him and I loved him just as much. Sitting across from him at lunch was tearing at my soul. He had matured. He was handsomer than I remembered. He was a strong and sensitive man who met my eyes with tenderness. After lunch we sat in his car, saying little, just being together. That is when he asked me to have dinner with him. And I answered, “I can’t. You must go back to Helen and I must go back to my son.”
Then he said these words that I have never forgotten, “Do you know that you broke my heart?” And I replied, “Darling, we broke each other’s hearts.”
That was the last time that I was with Davy. Do I think of him? Oh, yes. I remember him and I long for him. Of all the loved ones who have gone before me, I pray it is Davy that I first meet in heaven.
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