Another remembrance about my wonderful late wife, Karla Castle.
During Karla’s last stay in the hospital, we were talking, and the idea popped into my head of asking her if she would marry me all over again if she had the opportunity. I did not do so because I thought I might not like the answer.
I didn’t want to hear a less than wholeheartedly positive response. I was afraid she might equivocate. I was hardly a perfect husband and had caused plenty of problems over the years. I imagined that she might say something like, “Well, we’ve had some fun, but I wouldn’t want to have to relive some of your foolishness.” So I didn’t ask the question. I said a few sweet nothings and left it at that, rather than risk hearing an unwelcome answer.
But I was wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
In her last weeks, Karla’s main concern seemed to be letting people know how much she loved and appreciated them. And a few days before she passed, while reflecting on her life she spontaneously told me that if she could go back and relive her life, and retain the knowledge she had gained over the years, she would not wait for us to meet in college as we did in 1983.
Instead, as soon as she was an adult and could strike out on her own, she would come down to California and find me and start our life together much sooner. In effect, she wouldn’t just marry me all over again, but she would share life with me for nearly twice as long. (We had dated a little in college, then I dropped out and left, and didn’t manage to stay in touch with her. It wasn’t until 16 years later that we got back in touch with each other through a mutual friend, then got married. She wished to reclaim those years, if it had been possible.)
I was flabbergasted. I didn’t expect any such thing. I knew that she loved me, but that much? So desperately that she would totally change the course of our lives if she could, just to spend more time with me? It’s the best compliment I have ever been given. More accurately, it’s the best compliment that I could EVER get. I will never achieve anything greater than earning the love and respect of this outstanding woman. Overwhelmingly amazing.
And this was not just an emotional declaration on her death bed. Shortly after she passed, I found a journal from a couple of years before, where she went into this idea in greater detail, explaining the major changes she would make to her life, if she could. So I don’t just have to take her passing word about this. I have hard copy. I have physical proof that she had spent a great deal of time and thought considering this.
I should have known, of course. The clues are obvious, in retrospect. Even though Karla was usually pretty stoic and didn’t say a lot of lovey-dovey things- she always said that I was the more romantic one- she did let me know in her own way that she loved me dearly. Nevermind the many years we spent together happily. In that conversation in the hospital she said things that were obvious indicators.
During that discussion I said, “Thank you for being my wife.” She replied, “Thank you for being my lobster.” (It’s a reference to a bit from the TV show Friends, look it up, or see my previous post, “Soul Mates”.) Later, I said, “I wish I could trade places with you.” She said, “NO. You are not allowed to die before me. I wouldn’t want to live without you.”
So that’s how dense I am. It was always right in front of me. Now, when I think back on those happy years, it’s obvious. She didn’t usually say much more than, “I love you.”, But replaying those moments in my head, I can now recognize the passion behind them even more. She didn’t just say that she loved me, but she often said it in a cute or silly way, or otherwise put some emphasis behind it
And as the years went by, her patience and acceptance just grew greater and more evident. At one point, later in our marriage, we were discussing a financial difficulty that came up. (Probably caused by me.) After working the problem over for a little while she said, “Oh well, It’s only money. We’ll work it out.” I was surprised. I immediately thought, “Who is this woman that has replaced my wife? The pod people have obviously been here and replaced her with a doppelganger that looks like her, but she’s saying the wrong things!” There were even times where I thought, “She’s being pretty cool about this. She could rightfully be more angry at me about it.” But she very evidently had decided to value me over whatever the difficulty was, and give just enough importance to problems that was required to resolve them.
I could go on and on. (And probably will in future posts.) On her phone, I found an informal will and testament she had typed into the notes app. Within it she charged me with NOT hoarding all her former belongings, and ended her instructions with this: “Always remember that I love you deeply.”
About a year and a half before she passed, I was thinking about her, and my love for her, and I decided that I should do more. Romantic feelings can ebb and wane in a marriage, naturally, so I decided that in addition to my everpresent practical love for her, I should just be more IN LOVE with her. I should adore her even more, and cultivate those romantic feelings. Tough duty, eh?
It was worth it. We were closer than ever during those months, and had many beautiful, sweet times together.
But now I feel like I was just catching up to her. In those sweet days that I took care of her at the end, I came to understand, and she made it clearer than ever before, how much she loved and appreciated me. I think it would take me a lifetime of work to show my appreciation of her enough. My love wasn’t even in the same league with hers. even though I tried.
How precious to be loved like that. I have had a relationship that few ever get. Her presence in my life was a tremendous blessing, and buoys me as I continue on without her.
Did you know Karla? Were you a friend, or co-worker, or family member? If you were, and have a story or anecdote about her or time spent together, I would like to hear it! Please contact me by email or social media, or leave a comment on this blog.
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