I sat with your wife last night. I have never felt such heartbreaking sorrow for anyone in my life. That woman loved you more than life, and I know you were rather fond of her as well. We talked about you a lot - how you were such a great counselor, a great husband, a great friend. I told Cheryl that I was looking forward to our next dinner, and that the wine I brought yesterday was actually bought for that purpose. I'm sorry you can't enjoy it with us. But you'd probably want bourbon, anyway.
The first time I came over to your house for dinner, I didn't want to leave. Ginny and I sat at the big dining room table with you and Cheryl for hours. You delved into our lives fearlessly. Gazing at us with those counselor eyes - I'm sure that God gave you the gift to see straight into people's souls. It was a rare and beautiful thing. We sat there and watched you and Cheryl together, and it was so clear how much you loved each other. You spoke a language to each other that was sometimes not understandable to others. When we left that night, full on delicious food that your beautiful wife made and on the truth that you spoke into our lives, I told Ginny that I wanted a man who looked at me the way you looked at Cheryl. And I still do.
I can't even begin to imagine how we'll get through this. But know that we will not let Cheryl go. Though we can't begin to love her the same way you did, we will hold her hand, cry her tears, and lift up her head. We pray for her constantly. And we know that Jesus will keep her in His hand, as we hold on to the hope and knowledge that you are with Him and have everything you've ever ached for.