Love is companionship

From a column written for Father's Day in 1998:

"Love is not only passion"

Jerry and I sat on a bench at the bottom of the hill, silently engrossed in the scenery. Surrounding us were tree-covered hills and giant walnut trees, revealing a bumper crop of walnuts ready to drop. Our small herd of cattle munched on green tufts of grass while switching their tails to chase away flies. Soon fall would cover this valley with its autumn colors.

A warm, comfortable feeling spread over me. It always gave me a thrill to realize we owned this small paradise in northwest Arkansas.

Jerry finally rose from the bench and led the way up the steep hill toward our house. I trudged close behind, studying his tall, lanky frame while striving to keep up with his long strides. We stopped to rest four or five times before reaching the top. Following my husband, I thought how good he looked. I liked this guy and enjoyed his company. I appreciated the walks we took.

Then the thought hit me, the true meaning of love -- is companionship.

Just days before, a young woman had asked me to meet her at the city park. We sat on a hard cement bench where we could watch her son and his friend play in the sandbox. She poured out her marital problems. "How can I stay with a husband I no longer love?" she asked.

I questioned, "What does love mean to you, Judy?"

She replied, "It is a good feeling."

I gently tried to explain that love is more than an emotion. "Love is a commitment."

Yet, somehow my words seemed inadequate and unconvincing. I understood her yearnings. I remember the disillusionment I experienced as a teenage bride when feelings of love dissolved. We lived with my in-laws that first year and, by the time we had our own home, we were parents of a 1-month-old baby. Within a few years, we had two more kids. Though I longed to rekindle those earlier feelings of emotion and intimacy, somehow they could never be recaptured.

Years dragged by and I gradually realized I had a choice. I could constantly fret over lost feelings or I could commit to our marriage regardless of how I felt. I made the decision, "I will stick to this marriage. I won't entertain thoughts any longer of leaving this man who works so hard to provide for us. So what, if there isn't the passion there once was."

From that moment everything was different. When I quit living for the excitement, I found something greater than passion -- peace and contentment.

Oh, there are brief times when we once again experience the passions of youth, but feelings have become less and less important. Long, silent walks bestow feelings unknown by teenage lovers. Together, enjoying the stillness of nature, stirrings of intense warmth envelope me. Having Jerry for my best friend and companion -- that's love. Yes, love is companionship.

(Jerry died February 14, 2014, after nearly 62 years of marriage.)

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Editor's note: Marie Wiggin Putman lives in Little Flock. A native of Benton County, she writes a monthly column for the Westside Eagle Observer. She is a member of the Pea Ridge Historical Society.

Editorial on 06/18/2014