I must admit, that although we are about to celebrate the magnificence of our Lord's Resurrection, I am selfishly a wee bit sad. Last year I shared most of Holy Week , including the Easter Vigil welcoming this silly man/boy into the Catholic Church, with the woman I was hoping to marry.

Originally I had planned to propose to her just after my confirmation, uniting two wonderful events into what I thought would be the best day, up to that point, of my life. Instead I chose to honor her, by holding to the one year time table she had asked for (dating only 8 months at this point, although I knew I wished to be her husband even before our first "date"), so kept silent the desire of my heart.

She is the person who taught me about Eucharistic Adoration, and who first brought me to do the Stations of the Cross. I prayed my first Rosary holding her hand, and still nightly use the Scriptural Rosary book she gave me our first week together. At the hospital bed of my dying mother, she stood behind me the first time I knelt and asked our Blessed Lady for prayer. We talked of the constipated monk that was the start of the Reformation, of adulterous kings and humble saints, the sacrifices of missionaries vs. the excess of DC living, and where the heck we fit into it all. In all this, I am thankful God loaned me this wonderfully intelligent woman for a brief time, and I continue to pray for her everyday.

Sadly, being a once annulled and devout Catholic, she wanted a written guarantee from me and God, that our life together would be "perfect". Needless to say, trying to give her that almost landed me in the hospital (or at least on Dr. Phil), until that prayerful day I remembered that I do in fact "rock" (somewhere along the way I had forgotten this), that I knew in my heart what a great husband I would be (sorry ladies , not taking resumes, if ever, until 2008), and that married life is very messy (we just help each other through the muck, on our way to Heaven).

Ending with several months of flip-flopping, and the buying (and returning) of two engagement rings, I realized that I was doomed to only be viewed as a perpetual "boyfriend", and so, with a heavy heart, I walked away. Almost nine months later, I don't really miss the indecisive wannabe girlfriend, but oh, how I do so miss the true and pure friendship that was the spark to the ill-fated romance.

I rejoice in the day, when we are reunited to sing together before our Lord in Heaven.
The very God, who today, takes hold of both our empty hands.
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