Does love make you beautiful?

"You are the beautiful reflection...."

When I was young, I used to watch people a lot, trying to learn what made people happy. Many times, I'd look at a couple, sitting at a table or walking down the street, and try to come up with their story. I became very good at judging happy versus sad, interested versus bored.

"Of your loves affection..."

I sat in a restaurant Saturday night, watching a couple at the bar. This ability of mine to sense their story is kind of like a party trick. I could immediately tell that one of the couple was ecstatic to be sitting there. She reached out, touching her dining partner, and had the starry eyed look of someone falling in love. The other partner in this little soiree was anything but thrilled. Looked bored, actually, and kind of annoyed. This does not bode well for these two.

"A walking illustration of his adoration..."

Which reminds me of a couple I saw once when I was a teenager. She was very frail, couldn't speak, and looked very helpless. He got her settled in at the table, brought her food, wiped her chin. And ADORED her. Truly, in a way I don't know I had ever seen before that (surely not from my parents) and maybe only rarely since.

"His love makes you beautiful...."

And she was, in the light of his adoration, totally and utterly beautiful. I remember feeling jealous - which I don't do often - and thinking it would be nice to be adored like that. The most amazing thing was that I'd known this couple for a long time but felt, that day, like I was let in on a secret. Even with her failing health, he adored her, loved her, cared for her with a depth that is uncommon.

"So beautiful.... So beautiful..."

Why do we enter relationships? I'm sure there are many reasons. To have someone fun to hang out with. To not be alone. To feel loved. To fulfill lust, to avoid responsibility, to become bridezilla.... the list goes on and on.

But, at the end of the day, most of the things we go looking for are really secondary to the reality of our relationships. We all have needs and desires. We all have baggage we bring (anyone want to go through my suitcases with me?) We all have bad habits, hurt feelings, sadness and grief.

"You ask your looking glass what is it..."

So what made that couple so memorable to me in that moment? He touched her hand, she smiled. As he walked past, he stroked her hair and she leaned in at his touch. It made me so happy and sad at the same time, it hurts. It hurts today, still, to think about it. I can picture him sitting at her side as she sleeps, her confusion growing as the Alzheimer's she suffered ate her memories, ate her relationships, devoured her marriage. I sat with him as she railed at him in fear as her memory of him was completely wiped out. I grieved with him as I sang Ave Maria to her one last time, at her funeral.

"Makes you so exquisite..."

Her name was Audra. She'd been a beauty queen, a cancan girl, was the inspiration for me to learn every torch song ever sung (which I still haven't done, but I'm working on it). She taught me to sing from my soul. She was the epitome of everything I longed to be - beautiful, glamorous, pulled together, strong, demanding. Always in make-up, always dressed "to the nines". She was the first person in my life to tell me I was pretty, at 15. I sang at her house every week for the next 4 years. I couldn't afford to pay so I worked off the lessons with housework, yard work and cooking.

I sang to her when she forgot my name. I would sing her wedding song and she'd hum along even when she didn't remember the words. Harry sat quietly, smiling, as he gave me winks to encourage me when I had a tough line, a bad day, an unusually rough tongue lashing from Audra. He left me red and white peppermints in my jacket pocket. He called me "Little Lady" and loved my pot roast, which I'd cook for them on special occasions. More often than not, as her health deteriorated, I'd wash dishes, cook casseroles, and do their shopping. He once admitted that she was a terrible cook, but that he never once complained, not once. "Her nbiscuits were the most awful thing," he admitted as he ate biscuits and gravy one morning. "You, my love, will make someone a most wonderful wife someday."

"His love makes you beautiful.."

She was angry, once, on my behalf for not getting a prime role in a play at school. I told her that those roles went to the drama teacher's favorites. That it was ok. She replied, "It's not OK. You, my dear, have star quality and he needs to hear it." I didn't get the role, but I did get to hear her call my drama teacher, Mr. Hibbard, a "drama queen". Priceless. She admitted that Harry was her strength, that with Harry at her side, she felt she could take on the world. "He hates my cooking but he loves me anyway."

Harry loved her so much that he died 3 weeks after she did, as is typically the case with people who've spent a lifetime together, falling asleep one night to never see the light of day again. I was 20, in the throes of a disastrous relationship and its untimely demise. He left me a note, telling me he couldn't go on without her and that I should remember what she'd taught me.

But it was his lesson of love I remember most of all. He left me peppermints and a note in a box. It was a request that I sing this song, from Funny Girl, his all time favorite, that I'm sharing with you. I still have the sheet music. And I didn't make it through the second verse that day, to the 17 people that came to say goodbye.

"So beautiful..."

I do remember them. I sing "Hey Big Spender" under my breath and remember her with an umbrella and a killer kick, teaching me how to emote (purr like a kitten, red, and they'll eat it up). I buy peppermints when I'm nervous. They always seem to calm me. Its like bringing Harry back to life.

"So beautiful..."

And I remember her attitude - she was quite a princess, demanding of everyone, sometimes cold and unfeeling about my excuses for being late (even though I was working two jobs to support my parents and brothers) and frequently would cancel appointments with me at the last minute, after I'd walked in the rain to get there, because she wanted to get her nails done.

"And woman loved is woman glorified..."

But she was always and forever beautiful, as I saw her reflected in Harry's eyes. He adored her. And, in being adored, she had a beauty that is more and more rare today. One that is caused by the reflection of the devotion of someone else.

Happy Birthday, Harry. I miss you. And love does make you beautiful.