Since the clock on my computer says 1:36 am, that means that 33 years ago, I was preparing for a wedding. Mine.
It is the 33rd anniversary of my marriage. I know not many will read this, but each year I grieve a little feeling sorry for myself. My spouse was the only person to ever hear my story and hold me when I cried. The only person to ever show anger because someone had hurt me when I was a kid. She was my best friend and I met her when i was 21, in the fall of my senior year in college.
She was a small town girl whose parents had big aspirations for her future (marrying the local state politician's son, so I wasn't too well received. Ever. ) I was a back country boy, from a working class family. Proud but poor. Actually, my in-laws never did accept me... Their loss.
Regardless, we had a great marriage. We were inseparable. And she died on me. And I walked down the wrong lane in life after that, and found myself raped as an adult. And so I think its okay if during the day, I periodically stop and wonder what my life might look like if she had not died. I think that is fair to me. It just makes me sad, after all these years, to realize that I still miss her. The touch, the love, I miss it. She truly was my anchor to a life of abuse left behind.
Happy Anniversary to my lovely bride and may your spirit forever be in the clouds of glory. I thank you for what you gave. I miss you. I love you.
Edited by ThisMan (08/29/13 01:36 AM)
For now we see through a glass, darkly.