Two open doors

Lately I have been reminiscing about my husband and me since we first met in 2017. No attraction then but as we became better friends something sprouted — like some wayward seed that fell into a pot of soil left out in the rain.  Much to everyone’s surprise the seed grew and bloomed. That’s the way I see it. Gino, my son, has a different opinion. He told my friends that I had fallen in love like a high school girl. Never mind that I was 72 at the time.

He formed this opinion before Loy and me even fell in love. We had been seeing and singing together around nine months when Christmas came around. His daughter asked me what I did on Christmas. “I have lunch with my children,” I said.

“Can you take Papa with you? All his children are busy with our in-laws. Papa is alone on Christmas.”

I invited Loy and remember being a bit nervous.  We picked him up then had lunch at a restaurant. It was a little awkward, yes, but otherwise it went well. We brought him home then I was brought home with a bit of teasing, which, of course I denied. But later my daughter told me that my son had noticed that I was nervous, that things weren’t as casual as they usually were with us. But anyway... nothing much happened until a long time after that.

Then there was discord. When I met Loy he was surrounded by women who seemed to be in love with him. I called them his harem. I was the last one added to the group. They suspected that he seemed attracted to me and dropped me from their weekly events.

But the one thing Loy had accomplished was he got me to enjoy going to Mass on Sundays again. Every Sunday I would go to Mass at the Wack-Wack chapel. One Sunday I came in a door to the chapel and — surprise — he came in through the other door. That’s why the title of the song that my son Gino, a musician who composes, arranges and writes songs, is Two Open Doors.

We sat together. “How did you get here?” I asked.

“I drove,” he said. I worried. I knew experientially that he didn’t see very well on the road.

“Next time you want to go to Mass, let me know,” I said. “I can pass for you and bring you home. You are on my way.”

After Mass he invited me to lunch. I really had nowhere to go but I didn’t want to appear too eager. So I said I had to meet friends for lunch and almost ran to my car. The next Saturday he called to ask if I might take him to Mass the next day. I did and thus we established our ritual of going to Mass and having lunch together on Sundays. And — one thing led to another — until we fell wholeheartedly in love.

Now he is gone, though, I still feel he is with me. My son has written a mischievous but beautiful song for us that I play and weep to all the time:

TWO OPEN DOORS

Loy: When we met somewhere around 72

So grateful that I finally found someone like you

Who’d have thought this day in life that we’d fall in love

Is this a gift from way up above?

Me: You were somewhere around 79

At a party filled with music and some bottles of wine

Who’d have thought we’d be allowed to be together this way?

Didn’t think we’d fall in love today.

Both:  It was through two open doors

When our lives took this new course

Such a brand new kind of happiness

Loy: Ever since I asked

Me: And I said yes!

Me: So should we tell the kids?

Loy: Are they going to freak out?

Me: Who cares what they think?

Both: That’s what life’s all about, they wouldn’t mind this gift

from heaven above ‘cause it’s never too late to fall in love.

Both: It was through two open doors

When our lives took this new course

Such a brand new kind of happiness

Loy: Ever since I asked

Me: And I said yes! (2x)

I wish I could play this delightful, lighthearted tune but this is a newspaper. It doesn’t play songs. I’m writing this on Tuesday the day before my operation on Valentine’s Day because I don’t know what shape I’ll be in on Thursday, my deadline day. By the time you read this I will be home resting and being cared for. I’m convinced I will live through this surgery and face a new life — breastless, not breathless.

Thank you, everyone, for your Masses, prayers, fruits and food. Thank you, God, for the “Two Open Doors” and for my children who care so much.

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