on heartache...

*Warning: What you are about to read contains far too much dramatic flair, mushy-gushy love stuff, and overall gushing about the Mr...  Don't say I didn't warn you*

Photo Credit: ericaannphotography

It was 11:17pm. Seventeen minutes after our mutually agreed upon curfew; because, after all, nothing good happens after 11pm.  We had stretched it out long enough, and it was time to say goodbye.  The evening had been wonderful.  Our standard: cook dinner together, finish up some final wedding details, and cuddle on the couch watching reruns of “That 70’s Show.”  It was this part that I hated.

He got up from the couch, and reluctantly, I followed.  He led me to the door where he gave me a tender hug followed by a gentle kiss on my forehead that sent butterflies to my stomach and turned my knees to Jello. The “I love you”s, “sleep well”s, and “goodnight”s were repeated in an effort to delay his departure.  But he had to go. We both knew it.  I pled for one more kiss, and then he was out the door. It took everything within my power not to fling the door open and chase him down the stairs for one more chance to hold him and breathe in his sweet scent.

Instead, I closed the door behind him and – with my all weight bearing against the door – sank to the ground, drew my knees to my chest, and wept. I hated saying goodbye to this man. Hated it.  Every time, it felt as though my heart was being torn from my chest.

It was 3½ months until our wedding. Every day the excitement grew stronger; and every night our goodbyes grew increasingly more difficult.  I longed for the day when our “goodnight” no longer meant “goodbye”.  Then, I would never have to feel that aching in my heart again.

I was wrong.

Nearly 1½ years later, I have been surprised to find that this heartache only increases with time.  Not the kind of heartache that arises amidst frustration, strife, or dissention.  It's the kind of heartache that makes me miss him when I’m away on business and I can’t fall asleep without him beside me. The kind of heartache that makes me miss him even when we’re in the same room. It’s the kind of heartache that throbs when I lay next to my devastatingly handsome husband as he sleeps. The kind of heartache that is unbearable at the thought of ever losing him. I can’t describe it, I can only wonder at it.  

Nearly 1½ years later, I still revel in the fact that I no longer have to say goodnight, close the door, and meander to my bed alone.  I revel in the fact that – every night – I get to fall asleep to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. I revel in the fact that I - a most blessed woman - get to spend the rest of my life with my very best friend.  I marvel at the way that, with a single look, he melts me.  Simply, melts me. I marvel at God’s incredible grace in giving me him and at His grace to cause our love to grow with each passing day.

Thank you, Jesus, for this gift.  I'll take it: heartache and all.

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