He idolised her
“he idolised her”, well don’t we all?
Mal idolised his wife, of course, she was, still is phenomenal. I have never met anyone like her, I live in hope that I will meet someone like her again, for she is everything I want to be. I listen to her stories in wide-eyed admiration, and her presence gives me faith that there is a wonderful world out there, for her life has been about finding it and exploring it, and she has found it and she has explored it; yet, I’m sure she believes that she has only just tickled the surface.
There is good reason to idolise her, yet the phrase ‘he idolised her’, is still a little contemptuous, even muttered in the matter of fact way that it was. For is it so bad for a husband to idolise his wife, whenever I have heard that phrase uttered (which, is rarely), there seems to be a judgment, a consideration that it is not the done thing. Surely there is something slightly wonderful about spending your life with someone you idolise, yes, putting someone on a pedestal isn’t always a good thing, but why should we judge it? Maybe that person should be up on that pedestal.
I’ve been reading the autobiography of Sylvia, Lady Brooke, The Ranne of Sarawak, and a sentence jumped out at me that seemed relevant to the above:
“What Reggie said, where Reggie went, how Reggie felt, were of the utmost importance to her; the very air she breathed was enchanted by Reggie’s rose-tipped cigarettes. He was the substance and body of her existence, her raison d’être.”
But this is different, somehow.