When Bryan died at age seventy-one, more than three hundred people came to his funeral, for he was beloved by relatives, coworkers, and old schoolmates. He was one of those quiet people who live modest, productive lives and thereby subtly enrich the lives of all around them; and she quietly and without fanfare loved him well and made the decisions without lording it over anybody. They were the kind of people you never read about in the newspaper or see on TV news— because they were not superachievers or grandstanders. They just did what had to be done, and quietly did it well.
Sue often thought about Bryan after his death (although fondly rather than sadly), recalling with love even his crudest jokes. In this happy-go-lucky way, he had fulfilled her—and she, accepting him and cherishing him complete with all his flaws plus her own, had fulfilled him.
*283/196/1*
RelatedPosts:
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.