Hey Babe,
I’ve been thinking about you so much today.
I finally closed on our Gilbert home. Saying goodbye was harder than I expected. As I walked through the halls one last time, memories came rushing back—some beautiful, some not so easy.
I realized something as I stood there.
Not every moment in that home was healing or happy.
You and I… we were both stubborn. There were times I was so frustrated with you I wanted to scream—and I’m pretty sure I did. And yet, there were just as many moments when I fell in love with you all over again.
Funny thing is, I don’t think I knew you as well back then as I do now.
So much of our story feels like a blur of love, confusion, and misunderstandings.
I still think about our first date.
I remember thinking you seemed like a nice guy—someone I might be interested in. Then I found out you had asked another girl to the same fireside and canceled on her. She still showed up, and she was not happy with you. I remember thinking, " Who does that?
And then… You took me to your grandmother’s house.
You walked through every room, checked under beds like you were protecting me from something, and then asked if I wanted a foot rub.
I thought, " This is weird.
And then… well, things escalated quickly, and I remember thinking, I need to leave.
When you walked me to my car, I honestly hoped it would be the last time I’d see you.
But it wasn’t.
You kept calling.
You kept showing up.
And somehow, every time I was with you, I found something else to admire.
I had my eyes set on a mission, and I made that clear from the beginning. That didn’t seem to scare you away—in fact, looking back, I think it may have been one of the reasons we stayed together.
Maybe because marriage wasn’t on my mind.
And now I know… it wasn’t really on yours either.
As I got closer to your family—especially your mom—I realized something.
I wanted the Williams name to be part of my life forever.
We had so many good times.
Your softball games.
Trips to Prescott.
Staying in the Cozy Cabin with your parents.
Walking through the woods, finding quiet places just to be together, laughing the whole way back.
That’s when we really started to fall in love.
I remember being so jealous of your ex, Vicki.
She would come around your parents’ house, even sit down for dinner once, and I was furious. Your mom had to gently remind me that she was part of the past—and not the one for you.
She was right.
We spent hours playing Pac-Man at that arcade on Alma School and Southern before Fiesta Mall was built. It felt like everyone in town was there. And right across the street, that old movie theater—where you always wanted to sit in the back.
Of course.
Years later, after we were married, we went back there with friends. I will never forget that night—the rain pouring down, and suddenly a section of the ceiling collapsed right into my lap.
I laughed.
You? Not so much.
You went after that theater like it was personal until they finally gave us free tickets.
I still laugh thinking about that.
I also remember the day I stopped to help a stranger on the side of the road.
I was late getting to your house, and everyone was waiting for dinner. You were worried, and when I told you I had given someone a ride, you couldn’t believe it.
Looking back… You were probably right.
But that was me. Completely clueless about the dangers of the world, a true blonde!
Lately, I’ve been thinking about those early days—when life felt simple, carefree, and full of possibility.
I’m so grateful for those memories.
Because missing you… It is the hardest thing I have ever lived through.
If I could trade all the trauma I’ve experienced in my life for this grief, I would take the trauma again and again just to have you here.
I still talk to you.
You know that.
But not hearing you respond… that’s what breaks me.
Sometimes I close my eyes and try to feel you near me. Sometimes I can. Sometimes I can’t.
At night, I imagine your arms around me, holding me, and there are nights I cry myself to sleep.
This wasn’t supposed to happen to us.
We were supposed to grow old together.
We had more trips to take. More memories to make.
I still ask God why.
I know I may never get that answer.
But I hope I’m making you proud.
Because I am so proud of you.
We had a life full of experiences—both beautiful and hard—and I am who I am today because of all of it.
Because of you.
Thank you for loving me the way you did.
I know I wasn’t always easy.
But you stayed.
And you helped shape me into the woman I am today.
I love you.
Always.
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