On February 14, 2012, I would have celebrated nineteen years of marriage to Alfredo Loy. To this day, I still miss him and remember his love for me. I remember how he could calm me with a gentle hand on my knee and a quiet “clam down, my love”. He would always recognize when I was spinning off into a fit of anger. He was the only one in my life who could calm me down and reassure me that things were going to be alright. His favorite nickname for me was “my love” and I miss hearing those words dearly.
One specific example of this I remember clearly was when we were unexpectedly visited by a local pastor of a Baptist church we had attended for a short time. Indeed, it was just this unexpected visit that drove us away from that church and to Maranatha Chapel where our faith grew and we were surrounded by God’s love. It was a late afternoon visit, or was it a mid-day visit? I’m not sure. I do remember I had been out shopping and came home to find the pastor sitting in my family room talking with Alfredo. This was the second type of unexpected visit to our home and I was more than a little miffed that it had happened again. Not that I had anything at all to hide from this man but just that I cherished my privacy because it had been so violated in my past. (The previous unexpected visit from an associate pastor, who just happened to be the pastor’s son, had occurred on a Saturday morning when we were having breakfast. My husband had turned the man away with a stern warning to call before he wanted to come visit us.)
On this day, I remember going to the kitchen to deposit my purchases and the pastor coming into the kitchen, extending his hand to mine and then gently pulling me towards the family room where Alfredo and he had been sitting. I acquiesced and sat down next to my husband who gave me a kiss and a knowing look that I was not happy with the situation.
The pastor was there because he had heard through the grapevine that we were not happy with his leadership and church family. As we talked, I grew more and more agitated as this man tried to justify what I felt were “un-god-like” doctrines he was preaching from the pulpit. I don’t remember exactly the words that had pushed me to the point of anger that precipitated Alfredo’s calming touch but I remember being instantly reassured and comforted by his hand on my knee and his quiet, loving voice.
It is that simple effect he had on me that I miss today. I can be pretty headstrong and back then I was pretty explosive but I do believe I have mellowed with age. It has been fourteen years since this love of my life left this earth. It is in the quiet moments where I am calm and open to the Holy Spirit that I remember him so much. I have the hope of an eternal life where I will see Alfredo Loy once again. I will rejoice not only in the presence of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ but to see my husband once again and walk arm in arm with him on streets of gold.
