Tomorrow is – would have been – our fifth wedding anniversary. Five years ago, all of our friends and family were gathering in my hometown to celebrate the start of our marriage. Snow had continued to fall through May, and by early June the leaves on the aspen trees had just started to leaf. The week of our wedding, the weather turned suddenly hot, and all of the high peaks’ snow began melting in earnest. My mom and I collected sandbags from the fire department to reinforce the creek bank near our home for fear that the run-off would flood our yard and possibly the house. The water was rushing so powerfully, you could hear enormous boulders being rolled down the creek bed, particularly at night when the flow was the highest.

The creek stayed in its bank and the sun rose over a glorious green valley on the day of our wedding. I remember looking at the faces of those gathered and feeling a surge of joy realizing that each person there was known and beloved, and that they were all there to support Patrick and me. How could we, how could any of them, even have imagined that in five short years, Patrick would be gone. In the brief, wonderful, intervening years, we fully lived our vows: We saw each other through periods of unemployment; pregnancy; home ownership; parenthood; loss of parents; terminal illness; death. Even knowing what I now know, I would have chosen Patrick again to be my husband.

I spoke with Patrick’s sister a couple of days ago, and she wondered if Patrick had set aside a gift or a note for me to mark this anniversary. He didn’t. Patrick considered a project like this for both me and for CR. He spent so much time thinking and worrying about it that the entire process became stressful and daunting, and he finally plotted a different course. The message that Patrick most wanted to convey was that CR and I are and always will be beloved. He commissioned a mirror from Charles Shakleton (descendant of the great explorer and master woodworker based in Vermont). Patrick spoke with Charles several times about exactly what he wanted. The resulting oval mirror that now hangs in our entry reads “BELOVED” across the top. Patrick’s gift to us, to everyone who enters our home, is that each time we see our faces in the mirror we know that we are his beloved, God’s beloved. This subtle reminder captures more about Patrick as a human being than any set of timed gifts or notes ever could. Patrick’s love is pure and simple and ever present.