This is me at 46 and my late husband at 35 at the bottom of this story. It was the most unlikely relationship. We met when I was transfered to the park he had always worked.

He was 11 years younger, never been married, nor hardly dated. He lived like a mad scientist, with experiments and specimens in every corner of his ranger cabin.

He was the most radical conservationist I had ever seen, never wasted one thing, rarely spent money. He had a masters in biology, was part Cherokee Nation, and collected motorcycles.(1)Indian (2)Harley-D. (7)Triumphs

As a ranger he dealt with the park wildlife, safety, and security. Danny was unlike any man I ever met. I knew love when I saw it.

My responsibilities were the park recreation, which is managing fun and games, camps, sports, pools special events, and the budget to support those recreation activites plus reservations.

We were like day and night.

From the very beginning, we wanted to be together. It felt so right. We married at the park and bought our own nice large home on a lake nearby to retire.

It had taken me 15 years from my last boyfriend, while working with hundreds of other men in our field, to find this love.

The second year of our marriage my husband became ill with his type 1 diabetes. In denial, he continued alcohol and carbs. His behavior became wild, at times I feared him.

Third year he died in bed with me. I couldn't compress his heart enough to bring him back. His weight was 325 pounds. His heart was through living. He was creameated and taken home to the Cherokee Reservation.

Three years is better than no years. It's been 23 years since he died. And that long since I even kissed. My memories about him bring a smile and a tear. I think I was a lucky woman to have three years with him.

@sweetcharlotte