Late-life love was the rock I relied on
MY FRIEND MARTIN
YOU don’t really expect someone to write you a love song when you’re in your 70s — but gestures like that were typical of my lovely Martin.
He was my rock. When he came into my life, in October 2015, I was at my lowest ebb. My husband David had died of cancer in 2012, seven months after our golden wedding anniversary. After nursing him through his illness, I suffered complications from a back operation which left me with no balance and having to walk with a frame.
I met Martin through an internet dating site. After a few disappointing experiences I’d almost decided not to bother again, but I gave it one last try.
A widower from Wales, he had been an engineer in the Royal Navy and later made his living as a skilled signwriter.
As I live in Warwickshire, our first conversations were on Skype but then, one day, Martin suggested driving over and taking me out for lunch. I was nervous and dropped my fork, sending peas and gravy everywhere. But he was out of his seat like a shot, fetching me clean cutlery and reassuring me.
We had two and a half wonderful years together. My disabilities did not worry him. He was caring and loved me unconditionally, as I did him.
When he came to my house he cooked and shopped, pegged out laundry and did all sorts of DIY. He drove me to my multiple hospital appointments and took me out to meet friends, to lunch and for drives in the country.
We had so many plans — and then he was taken from me just as suddenly as he was sent to save me. He suffered a heart attack and died in my arms.
He was a healthy looking guy but I’ve since discovered he had been told he had heart problems. Either he hid them from me or was in denial. Always strong, always smiling. That was Martin.
He sang love songs to me every day and one he wrote for me was called You Are So Beautiful. One of the lines was ‘Being with you is so natural, together we are one.’ That summed us up.