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  Nostalgia ain't what it used to be

Thursday, 03 December, 2020

Two Years On

Date: 10 April, 2019

By: Chief

Imaget has been two years. Two incredibly long years, I might add, since the death of my wonderful, wonderful wife — Sweetie.

A story about love and life and finally death

That is what this story is about.

I can tell you this — because this is all I know — each day does not shine the way it did when she was alive. There is something different in each day without doubt, but each, gee, I'm not really sure how to describe it — maybe each day rings empty or better yet — rings hollow. Yes, that shall do, at least for me. The days do ring hollow now and so does my soul. She truly was the fire for my engine.

When she was alive the entire world was alive and I tell you true — only those who have really been in love and lost their spouse can understand that. You could step outside and literally watch the flowers grow and bloom. The love was so strong and so vibrant that nothing could stop it. And believe it or not ... not even death can quelch love.

Wife does not cover it

In case you have not noticed it I do not refer to Sweetie as "wife." Why? The answer is both simple and infinitely complex. Yes, under civil law she was considered "wife" because we were living together and finally after seven years we married.

Far more importantly was the fact that the evening we met, for the first time, outside a coffee shop in Aptos, California, we fell into a love that would forever bind our us together. No rope or knot could hold us tighter than our love for each other held us. We were not merely lovers or close friends, oh no, not even close. We were not even partners. We were in fact — one.


During our time together (which feels like two months instead of 20 years) each and everything we did, we did for:

Furthermore, it was not an effort to do those things, whatever they might have been. It was something each of us wanted too do for the other. Perhaps that is why we never had an argument or what have you. Our life together was, to describe it in a single word, — bliss. And I have used that word to describe our relationship many times before.

Apart? Not if we could help it. Nine times out of ten we were together. Even if it was just taking the trash to the bottom of the hill (driveway) we did it together. Everything was *together*. We did not discuss it or plan it that way — that is just what happened. And it happened starting with day one.

Come to think about it, and we were told this by other couples, we were not a:

We were, in fact, a unit. And it showed. In everything and I do mean everything we did. We never noticed but apparently others did and they told us. Again, no change for us. We just lived our life as a partnership or a unit every second of each and every day.

My greatest friend, my greatest strength

Was her. And, in a way, that has been the toughest part of the last two years. During the 20 years of bliss we did not go to parties or go see friends or any of that kind of thing. We were all we needed. However, a large problem developed after Sweetie passed away. I was left alone. Oh my God. You simply cannot imagine what that is like. Especially after 20 years of constant company and companionship. I did not know what to do and for the most part I still don't. The worst part is I am not at all good at meeting people or making friends. I never have been.

Sweetie was my greatest:

She fit the bill. Perfectly. Because she was perfect. At least too me she was.

The end of bliss

On the morning she passed away I remember standing at the foot of the bed and just staring at her. I do not remember anything else that happened that day. But I have never forgotten it either. Nor do I think I ever will. In fact, I am not sure I should forget. That would be awful.

I remember driving home after going to the mortuary and signing reams of paperwork and then discovering just how much it was going to cost to have my Sweetie cremated. Jesus. Death is very expensive. Believe thee me. Indeed I had to contact number 2 son and his wife and ask them for financial help. The money was in my bank account in less than 48 hours. And it was over $2,500.00. That is a lot of money my friends.


My Sweetie was cremated and then, on her birthday, myself and number three son took her ashes and drove up onto the bluffs, East of the house, and scattered her ashes at a place where she could look down onto the house which we bought. And there she rests.

I cannot ever forget her or her memory or her way of being ... well ... her. She was the best, the greatest, the one and only ‐ Sweetie.

I want to close this story by quoting my Sweetie (and please don't forget this one folks):

"The single most important gift one person can give to another is the gift of their time."

That is so Sweetie.

Though we are not together right now — I love you Sweetie and I always will. And someday, with any luck, we shall be together again.

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