Wednesday, August 13, 2008
For the first time in twenty-six years, I don't know what day school starts. It will never be starting, for me, again.
I no longer have a child in the school system, and I no longer have a husband who teaches. I no longer have a husband, period.
I don't like not having a husband. I've had nearly a year to get used to it, and I have to tell you that I don't like it one bit.
I've thought about it, and thought about it, and dreamed about it, and thought some more. I can look at it from Jim's point of view, and sometimes I think I'm getting to where I can understand and forgive. Of course, there are still days when I am so angry that I wish I could bring him back just so I could slap him as hard as I could...
I lived for nearly eleven months with his ashes in the drawer of my nightstand, and now, even they are gone; put where he wanted them to be, which was not with me.
I keep telling myself that I lived with loving Jim for many years before he came to love me, and I can live with loving him for many more.
But I no longer want to live to be a hundred. Now, I will live as long as I can, and I will do my best to keep my health, and I will do my best to glean every crumb of joy that comes my way.
But there will never be anyone with whom I can share a love like I did with Jim.
If you have the privilege of living with your love, hug him often. Cook things his mother's way. Never mind his snoring. Just once, for a silly minute, think about what an aching wound it would leave in your life if that person were not there.
That's my reality. That's what I live with, and will, forever.
I had my love for a few years, and now he's gone. Seven years may seem like a long time to some of you, but, at my age, it's only an eighth of my life.
I kissed a lot of frogs in my youth, and even married a couple. I didn't know what love really was, and thought I was in love several times. This time, I gave him all of myself. I held nothing back. If I could have given Jim anything to make his life easier, I would have.
There were only so many times I could say, "I'll make you a doctor's appointment," and get, "I'll be fine," for an answer....
See, there I go again--still trying to take the blame. Or maybe I just hate to have to give it up to chance, or fate, or something over which I have no control. I don't know. Rambling, here...
I KNOW that nobody can control another person. I would not want a husband I felt the need to "control." I just would like to have had some say...why could he not have said, "Ronni, I feel like shit. I'm afraid I have Parkinson's. Everything hurts..." I guess because I had no answers except "Go see a doctor and find out, and then we'll deal with it."
Why was leaving me alone better than that?