We started seeing each other every weekend. Then it was weekends and Wednesdays. Then almost every day. It was the closest I had ever come to having a "normal" relationship. Holly would drive over around noon, stay for a few hours, go back and take care of her horses, then come back for the evening before heading back to her farm around midnight.
I continued to call her every night when we weren't together. Plus during lunch at work. When the red light was lit on my desk as I got to work in the morning I knew she had left me a message overnight. It was so nice knowing someone cared.
We spent most of our time at my house but if we wanted a real relationship long-term we had to go out sometime. To dinner, movies, shopping, or to her place. There was a hitch, however, one I failed to mention:
I couldn't get in her SUV.
I was used to sliding into the front seat of a regular four-door car, using my transfer board. Getting into her high SUV would be like climbing Mount Everest.
But I wasn't going to let this be a deal-breaker. As tough as it may be I was never more determined than to get in that damn SUV.
Our first date away from home was going to be a special one: my childhood buddy Bobby Rydell was singing at a local restaurant/ballroom and we got tickets to go. It would be the first time seeing Bobby in over 50 years.
Holly was all dressed up, wearing a white blouse and black slacks. She looked gorgeous. Now came the mountain climbing.
Parking in my driveway I lined up my wheelchair to the van. The transfer board was at an uphill angle. I tried again and again to slide uphill, using all the upper body strength i had. I remembered the fall when I fractured my femur. I wasn't going to let fear win this time.
After a few tries, almost getting into the front seat and sliding back to my wheelchair, I mustered one final push and made it! I was never so tired but never so happy.
Soon it got easier to get in and out of her van. Getting out was much better, almost like sliding down a chute at a water park, tumbling into my chair.
I loved Holly for her patience. She didn't need this hassle. But she didn't seem to mind and handled the wheelchair too. Silently I still blamed myself for not learning how to drive so long ago.
Holly loved that van. She saw what a challenge it was for me every time we went out. She didn't have to do it but soon she traded in the SUV for a white , conventional vehicle. That was a big move for her, but she claimed she "didn't need the van any longer."
Back to Bobby Rydell. We had a nice dinner, Italian was our favorite, and Rydell sang for about an hour. He did all of his hits, the same songs I remember from America Bandstand on TV, the same songs we sang together as I sat on his lap in his dressing room at the Atlantic City Steel Pier when I was only four-and -a-half years old, and the same songs I used to sing for the nuns on Sunday afternoons.
I brought along scrapbooks and pictures of our meeting back in 1960, hoping to reunite after so many years, but Bobby was sick. He made the performance, the trouper he was, but he got out of a sick bed to do it, he told the crowd. He sang great, still with a clear voice for 75, but he left immediately after the show.
Someday we would meet again.
So we started going places. Holly needed to catch-up too. She traveled quite a bit when her late husband was healthy. In fact they explored Yellowstone National Park and much of the West, a favorite spot for Holly. Then Bob got sick and they didn't travel as much during his he battle with cancer.
Our excursions were mostly day-trips. Now that it was spring the weekends were ours to have fun, and new worlds opened to me. Shopping at the mall, strolling the boardwalk at the Jersey Shore, checking out the beautiful flowers at Longwood Gardens, We saw a lot of movies together- she liked Westerns, Star Wars and romantic chick-flicks; I liked sports films, documentaries and movies about dogs. We compromised and I would catch myself trying not to fall asleep during her Hallmark movies. My snoring gave it away.
She loved country music and my musical tastes broadened, as we went to local country festivals and I savored the new delights of great artists such as Alabama and Willie Nelson. I taught her Baseball. We went to a Phillies game together and she knew the names of all the players. We even watched on TV at home. Holly wasn't as keen on football, although she tolerated my Eagles games the following fall.
The first time I visited her horse farm was magical. What a cool place it was! She had three older horses, nearing 30-years-old each, who she took care of. They grazed in her pasture all day. She had a few barn cats, Zip her Schnauzer dog, and various wild animals who lived on the property. It was close to Pottstown yet was isolated, with a lovely flowing stream running just outside her door, with all sorts of trees growing on her several acres of land. And of course, flowers everywhere.
She made her house more accessible to me. It was nice spending time at her farmhouse, like another world, and she made me dinner there often.
Speaking of flowers, Holly changed my world so much, she literally brought life back to my existence.After Mom died the house looked pretty dreary and gloomy. Everything outside seemed brown, dry and dead. I had a few trees cut down out front, trees that were too close to the house and presented a threat during bad weather.. The last thing I needed was a tall tree crashing on the roof during a violent thunderstorm. That was fine but it left the area looking barren.
Holly suggested flowers to dress up the house and front lawn. I started getting into flowers and plants so much we soon had flower boxes and baskets hanging from the front porch railings. We planted small evergreen trees. We added nice touches such as bird feeders and bird baths. Even the inside we started adding green plants and white, lacy curtains. Life and color were returning to Dianna Drive.
I finally purchased a cell phone. I was always old school about electronics and technology, mostly due to my ffear of all the new gadgets on the market. Holly encouraged me to toss the land line and go with a cell. Admittedly it was much easier to use. I didn't want a phone that could do a thousand different things. I wanted a phone that was easy to use and could actually have conversations on. Texting was yet another new world. I didn't start to turn geeky yet, but close.
There were so many special times now with Holly. Like dancing in the kitchen when we asked Alexa to play Hank Williams' "Hey, Good-Lookin', Whatcha Got Cookin'?" as she made breakfast. Remember how I said I hated weddings because i couldn't dance? Holly taught me that I could still "dance" in my chair.
I still sent her a card every day without fail. She surprised me with unexpected gifts. An Easter basket in the spring; a surprise birthday party in November; Christmas was fun again with decorations and real Christmas trees; and since we found each other on the 27th we shared little anniversary remembrances on the 27th of every month.
It was a relationship I always dreamed of but never had. And here I was, approaching 60. I was sure Mom wouldv'e loved Holly. I was even more convinced that Mom, up there in Heaven, somehow had a hand in helping me find her. She always wanted me to "find a nice girl."
We visited her gravesite together on Mom's birthday, April 11th Flowers for Mom, Dad next to her. I made sure his American flag was still at his grave, My Uncle Henry and Aunt Sue buried down the next row. So many memories of a time gone by. Holly with me, softly saying "I wish I couldv'e met them", a new door opening.
After several months I finally met Holly's two sisters and their husbands at a local restaurant. They were very nice and we soon grew to be family. I think it helped when I brought them all gift bags of goodies I knew they would llove. More brownie points!
Bud loved Holly, which was important to me, and we took him to nearby Valley Forge Park when we could. We shared picnics and simple times together. I missed her so much when she went to places like the Grand Canyon with her sister or an all-sister getaway to Cape May, New Jersey. We kept in touch via the new wonder of texting. It made me appreciate her even more when she came home.
I was happy she had such a close relationship with her sisters. I wished my siblings were just as close to me.
Holly learned more about my disability and shared the stares, the inaccessible places we would run into now and then, the limited parking spots at different locations. She soon became an even bigger advocate than I was on Disability Rights, as her awareness grew. She was not only my friend, my love and my companion, she was my champion too. I could easily see us spending the next twenty or thirty years together, our "golden years." We both deserved to be happy.
Then her phone call one June afternoon almost changed everything.
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