A Remarkable Woman
Deborah was the most remarkable woman that I have ever known. She was the only woman whom I have loved who returned that love. Not only did she return my love, she returned it with interest. No matter how much I loved her, and I loved her intensely, she always loved me more.
I always tried to return her love for me with interest. She always tried to return my love for her with interest. We both strove to give more love to the other than we were receiving. Thus, our love for each other escalated. (Such love made the flaws that we used to see in each other fade into insignificant nothingness.)
Deb did more for me than anyone can imagine. I doubt that she ever realized how much she did do for me. Figuratively speaking, she found me in the gutter and carried me to the highest peak. She made me what I became. She did it without nagging or pushing. She did it with love: her love for me and my love for her. With love she molded me into someone far greater than I imaged that I could be.
I was nothing when Deb found me. Fortunately for me, she saw something in me that no one else ever did. With her loving care, she picked me up and carried me to heights that I did not know existed. All that is good that I became, I owe to her. Now that she is gone, I just hope that I do not regress to where she found me.
When we first married, I resented her not doing certain things. As I learned what was really important — her happiness and well-being — that resentment faded away. I adjusted to her, and she adjusted to me. We were always becoming closer to each other.
The longer I lived with Deb, the more important she became. During the last twenty years of our marriage, I seldom did anything important without considering how it would affect her. Her welfare was of upmost importance to me. If what I was considering did not benefit her, and especially if it might harm her, I did not do it.
Many things I should have done for her, but I fail to do them. I regret not doing all that I could have done for her.
The longer we were married, the more we became one in thought and action. Over time, Deb became more and more of me. Eventually, she became more of me than I was of myself. She became the most important and significant part of me.
She was an easy-going person who seldom complained. When she did complain, I knew that she had a severe problem that needed immediate attention. I regret not being able to solve all her problems. Some were beyond my control, such as those connected with the church school. However, others were not; these I failed too frequently to solve.
Deb needed a good deal of stroking and encouragement. Regrettably, I was never good at that.
However, I always tried to encourage her with her art. I knew how important art was to her. Every art show that she had after we married, I was there with her. She liked that. Moreover, I never complained about her buying art supplies.
At times, I had to persuade her to buy things for herself. She was a very frugal woman. I would have bought more for her if she had asked. She seemed always to place the welfare of her family above herself.
Most of the time she seemed to place me above herself. As a result, I tried to place her before myself. Perhaps that is a major reason that we were so happy together and enjoyed each other’s company so much. Both of us strove to place the other first. We did not always achieve that goal, but we worked at achieving it.
Before we married, Deb and I decided that she would stay at home and rear the children. Although we did without some things, that was one of the best decisions that we ever made. It made our family stronger and made us closer to the children. Because it forced us to be dependent on each other, we bonded much more. I became more responsible because I had to take care of her and the children. She graciously reciprocated by fulfilling my needs as only she could. We grew closer and closer to each other.
Since that Deb has left me, all that I can now do is write about the most remarkable woman that I have ever known. She is at least as remarkable as her Biblical namesake, Deborah. I love you Deb and always will. My love for you can never die.
(As I go through Deb’s papers, I realize that I did not appreciate her enough, that I did not support her enough, that I did not do enough for her, and that I did not give her enough. So far I have not found anything that she has written about me. However, I am finding the dreams and fantasies about which she wrote. Some of her dreams, she achieved, and some she did not. I wish that I had helped her achieve more of her dreams. She certainly helped me achieve many of mine — most of which would never have been achieved without her.)
Copyright © 2011 by Thomas Coley Allen.
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