What’s Your Chocolate-Covered Cherry?

Although Larry, my beloved husband, had died more than six months before, I’d still not shed a single tear. Why? I don’t know; maybe I reasoned crying would confirm what I couldn’t accept: He’s not coming back! I kept to myself, stoically answering friends’ “How are you doing?” and “How can I help?” with a curt reply: “Thanks, but I’m okay . . .”

Then, one day, on an errand to a local drugstore, an unknown-to-me clerk approached and said, “We’re giving
samples of our new line of specialty candies. What kind would you like?” Without thinking, I lightly answered: “A chocolate-covered cherry with a stem, please.” She donned rubber gloves, placed a picture-perfect specimen into a crinkly paper cup and handed me the treasure.

(What that clerk did not know—nor anyone, other than my husband and me—was that whenever my husband gave me “something really special,” it was a chocolate-covered cherry with a stem.)

Suddenly, my eyes flowed like Niagara Falls! She’d said nothing amiss, yet must have realized that whatever trigger that innocent piece of candy represented, sympathetic, comforting arms were needed. She drew me aside, saying, “It’s okay to cry.” My long-held-back-tears finally cut loose.