Back in late 2019, Linda and I pulled into a Publix parking lot.  As I snaked along watching for a parking place, John Lennon’s song “Grow Old Along with Me,” as performed by the Annie Moses Band, came up from my vast playlist. 

“Grow old along with me,

The best is yet to be…”

Although my eyes were fixed upon a space ahead, I sensed a loud silence coming from Linda.  (When you have been married a long time, you can distinguish between a loud silence and your regular run-of-the-mill silence.).  After I parked the car, I looked at her. Tears streamed down her cheeks. 

“What’s wrong? Does that song make you sad?”  I asked.

“Yes.”

“What about it makes you so sad?”

“It reminds me of how scared I was when you were in for your transplant. I was afraid you weren’t going to make it.”  

I don’t need to convince anyone that that was a special moment not simply because Linda was moved but because Linda told me why she was moved. 

I reached over and patted her hand.  

“Look at me.” I said. “You don’t have to worry about that now.”

We both chuckled.  We always chuckled at those kind of tears.

On Christmas, 2019, Linda gave me a white cup as a gift.  Words were printed in black on the side: “the best is yet to be.”   Of course, I remember the Publix tears.  We gave each other that knowing look across the room.

Although I was still recovering from the heart transplant, I sat back in my chair and reveled n the prospect.  After dealing with Congestive Heart Failure for 18 years and with a blessed donor heart beating in my chest, I could only think that she was right,

“The best was yet to be.” 
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Annie Moses Band “Come Grow Old Along with Me”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BA3frCMWi7k