On November 29th, 1938 at 6:50pm a new boy came to the Christian Youth group I attended. I looked across the room, our eyes met, a lightning bolt went between the two of us, and there was no one else for either of us for the next 77 years, despite long partings. Paul was 13 years and I, 15 years. What a tingling romantic love!
At 17 years, Paul volunteered for the Royal Naval Air Service, was sent to Canada for ten months for his flying training and we were engaged when he returned to England. After only four months at home, his aircraft carrier was sent to Burma and that meant another almost 2 ½ years of parting, until the Japanese surrendered. We were married six weeks after he returned.
A year later we immigrated to Canada and shortly afterwards he joined the fledgling Canadian Naval Air Service, and we were blessed with two daughters and a son. After 25 years of service, with the three children married, we enjoyed years of travelling the world.
At 71, his short-term memory began to fail. Shortly afterwards we received the dreaded diagnosis—Alzheimer’s. I coped at home for 15 years with a very protective love. Then came full-care for 3 ½ years. I spent seven hours a day with him and for the last year he couldn’t even talk, another kind of love—a very deep heartfelt one, for this was still the boy with whom I had fallen in love with all those years ago. We had just entered our 70th year of marriage when he was called to his Heavenly home.