They met over 50 years agoat a roller skating rink of all places. Ken wanted to go to a different rink that night. Louise didn’t want to go at all. Each had someone to convince them otherwise. By the time they bumped into each other, another girl had already asked Ken to skate with him for ladies choice. But when Louise asked Ken, he responded "Of course!"

"What happened with the other girl?" I asked.

"I stood her up." he said with a grin. Louise and I laughed.

I had only seen Ken and Louise at church. I didn’t know them in their roller-skating days – only the past few years. What I did notice was that they were inseparable. Always together. It had been announced a short time back that they were requesting prayer for Ken who had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He went through chemo and radiation and was doing well for a while, but not long. I could see the fear and pain in Louise’s eyes on Sunday mornings. I watched them as they sat hand-in-hand in their usual pew. I watched as they would go to the altar together to pray. Louise would walk away crying. Ken would put his arm around her to console her. I sometimes think that for someone who is physically suffering but has found peace with God, it’s easier for that person to face death than it is for the one who is going to be left behind.

I had encountered a similar situation once before. I offered to take a family photo for a family whose mom had been diagnosed with breast cancer for a second time. She won the first time. They said they would love to as soon as she got out of the hospital. Me, being the optimist that I am, thought that sounded good, so I didn’t push for a date. Karen passed away before I ever had the opportunity. I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t let that happen again.

Following our church service one Sunday, I walked right up to Ken and Louise and said, "I’m going to do a portrait session with you guys in the next couple of weeks. I’ll call you tomorrow to figure out a time."

"But why?" they asked.

I’m not sure how I responded, but I think I emphasized the importance of having memories. I really wasn’t sure how to respond. Within a couple of days, we had a date.

During the session at their home, I learned how they met. We talked about the different places they lived and Ken’s service in the military. We took a stroll around their yard. They walked hand-in-hand along their walkway. So simple. So perfect. That was November, 2008.

Ken and Louise continued to come to church together. They sat in the same pew. They held each other’s hand. They went to the altar together and prayed.

Ken wasn’t responding as well to the treatment as they hoped. Each Sunday, he looked a little weaker; he walked a little slower. On a few occasions, Louise showed up by herself.

"Where’s Ken?" I would inquire.

"He’s not feeling well this morning." Louise would tell me as she fought back the tears.

It wasn’t long until Ken lost his battle with cancer. He died six months ago today. Ironically, his funeral was the same morning that Dorothy (my wife) went into labor with Lily. It was a bitter sweet moment.

We miss you Ken…

 

Ken & Louise – New Year’s Eve 1953

 

 

 Ken & Louise – 1954

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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