Ken

 We met 59 years ago. I was 19, he 24. It was my second job out of high school, and my first experience working in an office for a large company.

He worked in the engineering department.

The culture there included many single young people just starting their careers.

He was a quiet person, with a dry sense of humor and a sharp wit. I found him a little mysterious. He drove a big, shiny black 1965 Chrysler 300, and somehow that car seemed to add to his mystique.

At the time, he was interested in one of my co-workers, and I had a steady boyfriend.

But I was quite taken with him.

I remember one day he passed by the doorway of my office, saw me, and gave a small wave. I found myself blushing. Someone else noticed and said, “Hmm… I think you have a bit of a crush.”

One day he asked me to lunch. He wanted to show me his new red 1967 Corvette convertible.

My boyfriend was away at school, and his interest wasn’t interested.

We began to spend time together as friends. Lunches, a movie here and there.

Personality-wise, we were very much alike. Quiet, reserved, a little introverted, sharing the same sense of humor. Part of my attraction may have been that he was five years older. He had served four years in the U.S. Navy, and I thought him more “worldly” than I was.

It took a while, but eventually one thing led to another, and we began to officially date.

We shared the same goals—marriage, a home of our own, a family.

By then, the Corvette was gone, replaced by something more practical—a wagon.

Like our personalities, our marriage was steady and quiet. I still found him a bit mysterious, not one to reveal too much.

But I knew he was kind—someone who would do anything for me, for his children, for a friend or neighbor.

Our marriage didn’t last. I think I understand why now.

Our paths were different.

But we remained friendly.

I married Ross a few years after our divorce.

When Ross became ill, my ex-husband—the father of my children—reached out and said he would “do whatever you need.”

And in the two years since Ross has passed, he continued to be supportive and caring.

Yesterday, Ken passed away.

He suffered through the last seven weeks of his life, trying to recover from heart surgery.

I visited him a couple of times in the hospital and in rehab. Seeing him ill and vulnerable brought back so many feelings—of our early years, of the loss of our son, of the life we shared as partners and co-parents.

My heart aches for our children and grandchildren.

And for the young man in the black Chrysler, who once made me blush with a simple wave.

Rest in peace, Ken.