Posted by: carolyn / through a widow's eyes | May 12, 2015


Two decades of marriage. One and a half more of friendship of varying degrees of intensity and intimacy. Three houses, two businesses, nine vehicles, three moves. Making the best kid in the world, with my face and your body. Your integrity, your work ethic. Then the privilege of raising that kid, living as a family, and all that the workaday world entails. A million PTO meetings, arguments, minor illnesses. Marriage counseling. Cancer diagnosis, chemo, home hospice, death, its horrifying aftermath I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, if I had enemies. Coming up on six years widowed. All the time I’ve wasted and mistakes I’ve made since then.

Jeff, Schoodic

Jeff, Schoodic

And still, when I see this picture, which I took on our first and only paid vacation, two years into the whole shebang, I think:

I’d hit that.

I would do it all again. Every moment.
To have what we had. To make what we made. Darling, that girl of yours is one hell of a legacy. Hell, I’d do it just for the kid, if nothing else. And there’s plenty else.
Baby, you would be so proud of what is still here in your name. Who we are, what we’ve done, how we survived.
Thank you for everything.
Happy Anniversary? Sixth one without you.


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