It's been two years since John died. Hard to believe. During that period of time, I've had countless chemo treatments, surgery to remove a port that was giving me major pain and implant another, a tornado that did nearly $50K in damage to my home and killed my rooster, the shingles, Hurricane Irene...more damage, a thief steal from my farm, a thief to steal from my farm....again, sold the farm, moved all my "stuff" that wasn't stolen, off the farm, had a dog kill my sweet Holden, sold John's truck, replaced a heating/AC system, had major surgery. Leave anything out? I'm sure I have.
Even with all of that happening, it seems like yesterday and I still think he should walk in the back door. I can close my eyes and see the little crease he had in his ear that I always teased him about. Feel the roughness of his big hands. Smell the deodorant he used. Hear him walking down the hall.
When he came home, even though I knew it was him, I would yell, "Who is it?", and he would say, "Who do you want it to be?", and I would always yell, "ELVIS!" His retort, "Then you are out of luck again....thank you very much!" Little things like that didn't seem so endearing at the time, but they sure are good memories now.
He made me feel beautiful. Once we were watching TV and a young model was on some program. I looked at him and said, "If I was that beautiful I would walk around naked all the time." He looked at me and said, "You are to me." In his eyes I was beautiful, and I miss seeing those eyes.
John was a wonderful husband. He wasn't emotionally needy. He was a great cook and loved to do it. Didn't have any expensive hobbies. He was kind and I trusted him. Could fix about anything. Was a good father. Clothes were not important to him but he kept them picked up and neatly arranged. Never complained. He was loud, but that made him easy to find. Didn't mind hard work. And all he asked for was a good steak and a little Jack Daniels on Saturday night. Like I said, he was a wonderful husband and we sort of fit together like peas and carrots, as Forrest Gump would say.
I miss him so much.
PCQ
