I remember her waiting for me in the atrium when I came out of the office. As I walked through the door to meet her, I paused to steal a quick stare. I still remember how she looked, leaning over the railing with her back towards me, while she admired the gardens below. Then she turned and smiled with that infectious smile and her permanently cheerful greeting. I can’t remember if I fell in love with her then, before or after that moment. Whenever it happened, I don’t really know for sure, but I did know that she was growing on me more than I wanted anyone to do so. We laughed and joked for a few minutes before I walked her back to the car. Even though she put on a brave face, I could sense her loneliness or uncertainty that she tried to hide. But she never let it show.
Happy memories of my late wife…excerpt from Ramblings of a Madman
(that book I never wrote)