I met the love of my life
when I was young,
We married soon after
and traveled the world over
before we bought a house
with a rose garden and white picket fence.
In that house we raised four children.
Two boys, two girls, all with rosy cheeks
It was in that house that we laughed and smiled,
frowned and sobbed, played and argued.
It was in that house that the kitchen burnt down
after baby James played with the waffle iron.
That my love broke both his legs
when he fell down the stairs.
That I wrote the novel that paid for
my children's college educations.
That house would be where my husband died,
at the age of seventy
of a heart attack in his sleep.
I needed him,
could not stay in that house without him.
So the next night,
at the age of sixty-nine,
I died of a heart condition also.
A broken heart.
But it was a good life,
one to be proud of.
And baby Eddie still tells all who will listen
that I was smiling when he found me.
Because I had reunited with my love,
in Heaven.