between the dust and dust

I went to a funeral of the father of a co-worker. It’s been awhile since I was at a funeral. It brought up many issues, as funerals do. Most of those brought on tears, many in good/hopeful ways. Some in sadness with my own issues of familial loss and God complex questions.
What hit me the most was the slide show of his life. A small child in the 30’s. A very handsome man in the Navy for WWII. 50’s-like photos with his wife. Photos of their family as their children grew up. Their grandchildren. Their great-grandchildren.
His wife died a year ago, almost to the day. He slept with his wife’s pajamas every night this past year. He is now buried with them. They were married for over sixty years. Built a life together. Raised a family. Survived old age together. Basically, died together. (And, with my beliefs/hopes, are together now.)
I was filled with hope, filled with love for the family, filled with a nice sort of jealousy. (Yes, reader who anonymously left the ever so helpful narcissistic link, it is all about me!) I want that! I want a life like that. I want a life like that with Smokey. I believe that we are meant to have that life. I don’t believe that is how it has to be, I/he/we could sadly choose or do differently. I want to see faces grow old together over the years. See photos of the life we build together. The other lives we touch. It’s more than wealth. It’s more than writing or getting published. It’s more than the house. More than anything. This family didn’t have much money or means, but they did have each other, and devotion to each other.
What more could you ask for? What more could you want?
Beautiful.