A Story of Blessing and Love

I was touched by Babette Hale’s column a couple of weeks ago. I could relate to her feeling of loneliness after losing her “Hale” after many years of marriage. In a way, she wrote my story as she related how lonely she had been and how much she missed conversation with her man.

I lost my husband, Freemon, in 2019 after 55 years of marriage. I missed his companionship and was urged by his only sister and our daughter to go “on line” to find a “pen pal” to ease the loneliness during the awful months of COVID isolation. But, as I have expressed before, I am wary of all social media.

However, my answer came out of the blue as when you wish upon a star. I could not have been more surprised. As you see below, I print my e-mail address in a ‘tag line’ at the end of each column. I invite comments from you readers and I answer each one as they arrive. Through this practice, I have come to “know” many of you I have never met personally.

A little less than two years ago, I received a comment on the piece “The Other COVID Victims.” In that column I stated not all of us were infected, in the hospital, or on a ventilator but we were COVID victims, just the same. We were single people without family nearby who suffered from loneliness.

I received, with other mail, a note from a reader from one of my North Central Arkansas papers who I had heard from for years. I always remembered him because of his extended vocabulary and proper grammar. I answered promptly and he wrote back immediately saying, “I totally agreed because I am widowed, too. I feel I know Brenda Miles already because you write so candidly about your life…I know you get this all the time, but I would like to meet you personally if that would be possible.” WOW! That certainly set me back on my heels!

However, a few days after talking with my daughter and Freemon’s only sister, I wrote back and said okay. The date was set for 1 p.m. in a beautiful state park outside Hot Springs.

Anxious during those morning hours? I was truly a bundle of nerves as I drove to the park to meet this stranger. Could he be a Ted Bundy or worse? I only knew him as a reader named Roger.

However, once I looked into his smiling face and experienced his warm handshake while thanking me for coming, I was suddenly at ease.

We had agreed upon an hour’s visit since he lived so far away. Yet, as the afternoon wore on and conversation was so easy, our time was extended to three hours. We learned more about each other before it was time for him to leave for his two hour drive back home. He had been a care-giver, too, tending to his beloved wife in their home until three weeks before her death in Hospice from Alzheimer’s disease. We exchanged phone numbers and addresses. I was first taken by his handsomeness for an older man. He was 79 and I was 77. He was 6’2” and still weighed his old Marine weight of 175. His full head of hair was dark mixed with mostly silver. He had a soothing voice with a deep, hearty laugh. (my family who speaks to him on the phone first mentions his voice!)

I learned he was a retired research scientist. He first worked for NASA in Florida at what used to be Cape Canaveral and then retired years later from ALCOA. During his career, he supervised labs in parts of South America and Haiti apart from their Arkansas lab. I could tell at first meeting that his conversation revealed a brilliant man but it was not until later I learned he had graduated with honors from both North Little Rock High School and the U of A and is also a MENSA. How could I compete with such intelligence with my small town background? I got the answer much later on when he introduced me to an old college mate as “My little Southern belle who keeps me on my toes!”

I was intrigued by this new personality – especially his keen sense of humor which has always been high on my list of virtues.

Three weeks later, I learned my dear friends, Maizie and Mike Hess, had undergone a terrible explosion in their Ellinger home. Many of you remember that tragedy. I contacted friends, family, and other churches asking for prayer. On Thursday night, my friend, Bob Carroll, called to tell me they had died one minute apart late that afternoon. I got on the computer to tell everyone I had contacted earlier and asked that they not call me that Thursday night because I would only cry. I even wrote, “And that means you, too, Melissa!” I had included Roger and four other readers on this list.

Friday morning, after an almost sleepless night, my phone rang just before 7 a.m. I fumbled for the receiver, saying, “Baby, I have not slept, call me later,” thinking it was Melissa. But a male voice came on the phone. “Mrs. Miles, this is the guard from the East gate and I have a man here who requests your approval for entrance.” Still numb, I didn’t catch the name but guessed it was my nephew, Robert. I muttered, “Okay.” I got up, jumped in the shower, and hair still wrapped in a towel, I answered the doorbell. The tall man from our first meeting was standing at my door.

“May I come in?” he asked. I opened the door wider, too shocked to speak. “Could you lead me to your kitchen?” There, he pulled out a chair for me and directed me to sit down. “Where is your…Oh, I see, you have a Keurig machine, too. Where do you keep your coffee pods?” I pointed to the drawer below the coffeemaker, still not speaking. He brewed a cup for me and placed it in front of me. Then he asked if he might make one for himself since he had gotten up at 3:30 a.m. to drive down. I nodded yes. He brought his cup to the table and began to sit before he stood up again. He reached for my folded hands in my lap and lifted me into a standing position. Without saying anything, he folded his arms around me and drew me to his chest. Then he whispered in my ear, “Now… I want you to cry it all out. Take as long as you like.” And I did. Afterward, I guess that was when I realized the inevitable – this total gentleman in manner and behavior – had slipped himself inside my heart.

It has now been 16 months since our friendship began. We have no plans to marry or live together. Meeting each other’s children, family and church family, we have been welcomed with full acceptance and joy. He remains the same gentleman I first met who is not embarrassed to be demonstrative in affection by draping his arm around my shoulder or holding my hand in public or while watching TV movies. This is something I had not experienced. He also surprises me with gifts for no reason—ranging from bouquets of hand picked daffodils to a large screen TV. He refers to me as “Sweetheart” or “Sweetie” instead of Brenda. We speak daily on the phone and have never had an argument. He treats me like a queen; and, may I say in closing, the view is GREAT from up here atop the pedestal where I have been placed.

Brenda Miles is a former La Grange resident. Reach her at brenstar@att.net