I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
One of the great things about being married was the hero's welcome that I got every now and then. Those moments where I completed some feat of daring like checking out that weird noise out back at 2 a.m.. Moments where I was especially clever like warding off the schemes of some schiester salesperson and getting our money back. Moments where I would brave the elements to shovel out the driveway and get the cars unburied. In the aftermath I would find my wife and she would tell me how important I was to her and how thankful she was that I was hers.
Sometimes I like to think that I am strong, able to get through all things reasonably well on my own. However, the truth is that I relied on her words and her hugs to embolden me, to make me a man, and to give me strength for bigger challenges in the future. Without her presence for these many years, I recognize more and more just what I lost in her leaving.
This past winter after a major snow storm in the area, I went out and shoveled my long driveway. Inch by dense inch, I slowly made my way about that large expanse until I was down to the pavement. As I stood there leaning on the handle of my shovel, resting for a moment to catch my breath and to calm my burning muscles, I wished that she would have been inside waiting for me to whisper those live-giving assurances. Of course with the advance of spring, the soaring temperatures, and the sound of lawn mowers and children playing outside, the winter's snows are long since past.
