Friday, April 15, 2016

M is for Marriage

Me, alone. Life after loss.

Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow if half a sorrow.
~ Swedish Proverb

For both of us, ours was a second marriage; I was 46, Errol 40. It was 1987, he had been my neighbor and friend since 1979. We cared deeply about each other, we had dated since 1984. 

Not a young love, ours, but we certainly had our wild moments, trips to Mexico where we leased a piece of land on a cliff overlooking the ocean, rode horses down steep trails, and drank margaritas in Ensenada. Later, sailing our boat on the Pacific, to Catalina Island or just up and down the coast, catching barracudas and making out as if the entire Pacific was our playground. 

We were very different; early on we had many fights, but then we learned how not to and how to work things out instead. Looking back, I am amazed at how different we were. But we made it work, we really did. We didn't play games, we didn't lie, cheat, or do anything to hurt each other. Most importantly we never tried to change each other. A huge benefit of having married later in life, I think.

In the emergency room at UCLA, Errol told everyone that I was his rock. As he was mine. I don't have that now, but I am not without courage, I am not afraid of being alone. I have a good life now, I live in a place I love, I have good and caring friends, even made some new ones. 

And I live with my two furry and delightful clowns.

But still, how I wish you were here....


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