Just ran across this little gem and thought I’d share. Moral of the story: you’re never too old for romance. (Margaret and Jessie are reunited now. No doubt they are lounging on Heaven’s bright shores, cuddling like a couple of teenagers.)
By the time I met Margaret Gill, it had been a long time since she’d buried her first husband. Margaret came to love late the first time—she was in her 50’s then, in her 70’s when he died. And that was really enough. She was surprised by love way back then anyway as she never really expected to have a sweetheart. It was a good marriage too. She spoke of him as you would a good friend—one who had befriended you when you least expected it and stood by you through life’s ups and downs. Margaret clearly had a fondness for husband #1, no doubt about that. But there was no comparison between the way she talked about him, and the way she talked about Jessie.
Jessie and Margaret met in their retirement home. They were married only a short 10 months before he passed away—a tragedy mitigated not one bit by the fact that he was 90 something. They felt an instant attraction to one another and began spending time together going out to dinner, sitting by the fire. After a couple of years, Jessie convinced Margaret to marry him. He was 93 and she was 91 when they tied the knot. (She didn’t wear white as she’d been married before don’t you know.)
“Oh Jessie,” Margaret crooned when recalling their time together. “Never in a lifetime did I expect to experience a love like that. Oh how we loved one another. Jessie . . . he was my life’s gift.”
