Thursday, August 22, 2013

Six Years




Hard to believe, isn't it?  Six years ago, Jim killed himself.

I have survived.  I am no longer angry.  I still get sad once in a while (read: often), but not sobbing-in-the-shower sad.  Seeing a silver-haired, balding man on the street no longer gives me a turn.

I am 64 years old.  I married Jim when I was 50 and we were married for seven years.  That's less than one-tenth of my life.

August 22nd

For some reason, this post is difficult.  I am wondering if I am feeling a bit guilty about not grieving as I have been all these years.  I realize how silly that is, with friends who have been trying to fix me up with stray men in their circles...thinking that, if I'm not "over it," I should be.

I'm not really "over it."  I may never be.  I did love the man for 24 years, even though we were married for only seven.

So here we are, Dearly Beloved.  Life goes on.  If I had it to do over, I'd do the same thing.  Even though I'm now old and fat.  I probably would have been fat anyway, and I most assuredly would have been old.

So I slosh out some cheap vodka for Jim and drink a toast in a decent single malt Scotch, pull up my big (really big) girl panties and keep going.

Slainte!

8 comments:

  1. I treasure the years I spent with my second family at SBCT, especially you and Jim and so many others.

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    1. Miss you, Bill! Dammit, you're not that far away! I need to get my AC and ragtop fixed and come see you guys!

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  2. I agree with you Ronni. How could you ever 'get over' a thing like that. I'm glad you are not angry any more. That is such a beautiful picture of you both.

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    1. I like it, too...many thanks to Tracie for the photo. Thanks, Nelly!

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  3. ronni,

    you don't have to get over it.
    you will never get over it.

    you and jim loved each other.
    he made an EXIT STAGE LEFT.

    you are still here - lovable and irrepressible.
    ~surf

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