P.S. I LOVE YOU!

P.S. I LOVE YOU!
So few words never meant so very, very much.

         ”P.S.” When we think of those letters, we often think that whatever follows them is an afterthought. Something we forgot to put in the body of the letter or email that preceded them.

         ”P.S. I love you.” And when we see these words, most hearts warm at a special afterthought, but an afterthought nonetheless.

         ”P.S. I love you!” But when the heart of one Beatles fan was touched by a love deeper than she ever dreamed she’d find in her life, those few words became a living symbol of the undying love she felt for the only man that ever cared enough to truly love her. Me.

         From the moment we confessed our love, just four weeks after we met during my senior year in high school, her junior year, her love and devotion only grew. Yes, that's right, we were high school sweethearts. She was 16, I was 17. She told me more than once that my willingness to look beyond her epilepsy and love her as herself literally gave her a reason to live. And she never stopped trying to prove to me how much that meant to her. In every way she could possibly think of.

         From the very first note she ever wrote me, right on through our elopement and wedding when we were both 19 (the legal age in Ohio then was 21, not 18), and lasting throughout our all-too-short 14-year relationship till her death in early 1980, those very special words, which happened to also be the title of one of her favorite Beatles songs, appeared at the very end of every single note and letter she ever wrote me. Only for her, and us, they were as far from being an “afterthought” as they could be.

         They were placed there intentionally, every single time, as an act of love that no diamond or precious metal could ever hope to match in meaning. And they were placed there for me. To remind me every time that no matter what, her love for me would always be there. And it was, right to the very end.

         At 9:45 P.M., on Monday, March 3, 1980, Linda had a seizure in our bathroom, striking her head on the tile wall over the tub. She died instantly. Our all-too-short 11 1/2 years as man and wife was over. She was 30, just 15 days from her 31st birthday. I was 31.

         Afterthought? Not for us. Ever. Those four words, to us, were one step away from being the most important words of our life together. Second only to our wonderful wedding vows of Friday, August 16th, 1968. And they’re words that will live in my heart, and memory forever. Because they came from HER heart each and every time.

         And in case you’re wondering, those letters and notes she wrote me? I still have them all, and one of them is below.


         Linda, darling, this piece is dedicated to you, for all the love and devotion you showered upon me, and our priceless relationship, beginning the night we met, Tuesday, March 8, 1966 at 11:00 P.M. after the pit orchestra rehearsal. I will love you for the unbelievable depth of that love and devotion for as long as I live. And honey, I could never even consider any other way of ending this piece, especially having dedicated it to you, than to do so with those very words you used each and every day to deepen our love so very much. Rest in peace, sweetheart, my devoted Squeek.

P.S. I LOVE YOU!

         Following is the love letter Linda wrote me on my 19th birthday. It shows the depth of her love for me, and this "classic" signature line she loved to write. She never missed a single note or letter with it in the 14 years of our relationship.
         Printed text of the letter follows the image.

Darling,

         I want you to know that I love you and I need you. You are my life, my every reason for living. You are very dear to me and I want never to hurt you.

         As I sit here at my desk I can think only of the fun we have had together. I want to continue to have that fun. We understand each other’s problems now. We know where we stand. Our lives have more meaning and more beauty to them. The arguments we’ve had are over and done with.

         To me your birthday present is not enough. The thing to go with it is love. We share it at all times. It means more today than in the past. Jim, Happy 19th birthday.

With love from
your fiancée,

Linda

P.S.: I love you

Author's note: Notice the second sentence of her letter: "... You are my life, my every reason for living." For most couples, those words are wonderfully symbolic. But for Linda and I, they were very, very real. She told me many times that there had been many times in her life before we met that she didn't care whether she lived or died, because of the lonely life and ridicule by classmates that her seizures forced into her life, and how my willingness to look beyond the epilepsy and love her as herself LITERALLY gave her a reason to live. I thank the Lord every day for allowing me to be the one to make such a major, and definitely positive, and wonderful difference in her life.

When We First Confessed Our Love - April, 1966
(Photo taken two months later, Saturday, June 11, 1966)

Her Senior Prom - May 20, 1967

Her Senior Portrait - June, 1967

Even for a short love note on the back of that senior photo above -
she still never forgot that most meaningful closing thought of love