Spiritual love is just as divine as physical love.

Oh, to find the right words. It is so difficult. But the Alzheimer's experience may have helped. I had to practice simple words. Simple things. I had to learn to speak Jeanne's new limited language. Her limited understanding. I had to reach her. With my total being. I had to improvise. To find new ways. To express my love. Maybe that's why I have become so adept in spiritual love. Little things. A kiss. A caress. A whisper. They all go a long way. I'm well-practiced in spiritual love. That's what Jeanne and I had. Right up to the end. I was able to pull it off. By merely being with Jeanne. A spiritual presence. I was able to make Jeanne smile. Virtually every day. To make Jeanne understand that I loved her. Dearly. Deeply. With just a mere kiss. A caress. By taking her outdoors. And pushing her in the wheelchair. And singing to her. Little ditties that I made up. Twinkle, twinkle little Jeanne. Oh, I wonder what you are. You're so beautiful, you could be a movie star. And I'd tell Jeanne she was my sunshine. That she made me happy. Even when the skies were grey. And I'd undress her and give her a shower every night. Sensuous. But no sex. Not for years and years and years. She could sit on her shower chair, and feel the warm water flow off her body. The pleasure of it. And I'd dry her. And rub on body lotion. Over her whole body. No, the sex act was unnecessary. I was able to make Jeanne feel loved. Without it. Even when I hand-fed Jeanne. Ever so slowly. We'd take 90 minutes for lunch. An opportunity to be face to face. For me to look into her still alert round brown eyes. That was spiritual communion. Love can be expressed in so many forms. And spiritual love is just as divine as physical love. --Jim Broede