I Thought I Had Time

As my friends know, I'm a communicator, and when I think of stuff, it seems to have to come out my fingers in type. I often feel compelled to share my thoughts, hoping my readers will take my words to heart. This is one of those times.

In 1960 I had been married 5 years, living in Emporia, concentrating on building my life as a married lady. My parents were going, doing, living their lives. We visited maybe every week or so, as I remember. My mother was 63, no health problems that we knew of.

I thought I had time.

In June, 1960, at age 63, my mother suffered a massive heart attack, and 3 days later was gone. I still grieve that I had wasted time that I could have spent with her, things I could have told her, things I would have liked her to tell me.

I thought I had time.

In January, 1973, I kicked over the traces, divorced my husband, and, as I like to say, ran to Texas, where I had friends. My father had remarried, and was busy traveling with Edna, enjoying his retirement years by following a gospel group they liked. Tho in his late 70s, no major health problems. In those days before the internet, during those first 8 months in Texas, I wrote letters home, every month or so, but no phone calls. No hearing my Daddy's voice in my ear.

I thought I had time.

September, 1973, I got the phone call from my Big Sister Gail that Daddy, age 78, had had a massive heart attack, and literally fell over dead working in his garden, doing what he loved.

I thought I had time.

By now you can see where this is going. Most of the time, we don't know what tomorrow will bring. However, sometimes, we DO get clues, such as when our loved ones are seriously ill.

Dear Readers, whether you have gotten clues, or life is sailing along very nicely, do not, I repeat, DO NOT take your loved ones for granted. Take the time to visit, NOW, to communicate, go places with them, share your memories of the years.

My prayer is that you will not forever regret not spending time with your loved ones: parents, siblings, children, friends.

You might not have time.

On Life and Love

“He stopped loving her today.
They placed a wreath upon his door.
And soon they’ll carry him away.
He stopped loving her today.”

George Jones was wailing out of the speakers when I walked in to my ex-husband’s funeral a number of years back. His brother had chosen the music.

Well, it was true. I suppose, in his way, he had loved me. He just didn’t know how to show it. Indeed, he never knew what to do with me. I was not the subservient, obedient homemaker with no opinions about anything, like his mother, that he expected.

And yes, I cried that day at his final services, in spite of the heart-ache, distress, even fear, he had caused me over those 17 married years and especially after I cut and ran to Texas. I still remembered the young man who had hopes and dreams for his life. It was very sad that he was never able to achieve them, or have a happy life.

Life is such a funny thing. In our youth, we think we know it all. We charge more or less blindly into our future, and about all we have to guide us is what we are expected to do.At least in my day (maybe not so much any more), expectations for girls was to graduate high school, get married, and have babies. In that order.

I aimed for that expectation, tho a tad late by not marrying until age 20, to the 2nd man that asked me (and that’s a whole other story!). But children didn’t happen, for whatever reason. I wasn’t terribly concerned about that, I merely thought it was what I was supposed to do. As aunts, cousins, and “friends” began to inquire, I fessed up to really not caring if I had children or not. Well, let me tell you, in the 50s, if you didn’t want children, you were considered a communist or a pervert or both!

I have to say, I worked at my marriage. For years I tried very hard to be what I thought my husband wanted: a version of a “trophy wife,” someone who would remain in the background, looking pretty, complementing him, maintaining a nice home, meals ready whenever he deemed to come home, without ever expressing an original idea of my own. Does it sound like the CJ you know? No, and it didn’t work, just made both of us miserable.

Why did I stay for all those years? That’s what one did. At the wedding, you vowed “for better or worse.” Divorce was not a readily considered option in those days.

Finally, the realization sank in that if I was to have any kind of life for the woman I was, I had to flaunt convention and launch out on my own. It was the beginning of “love many, trust few, always paddle your own canoe,” i.e., be very cautious where you place your trust, take care of, be responsible for, yourself. Accept help when necessary, but do not depend on others for your finances or your happiness.

Coming back from PL the other day, I noticed a highway sign as I turned from 35 onto 101. In big green letters, I kid you not, it read, “Rough Road Ahead.” Now, if there could have been a few of those tossed out along the freeways of my life! Maybe I wouldn’t have done anything different, but at least I would have been warned. I think such a sign should be mandatory in front of every wedding chapel in the country.

Lyrics that resonate with me these days are along the lines of one of my favorites from Vince Gill:

“You just never know
How tomorrow will go
So let’s make sure we kiss goodbye.”