I hadn’t played the family movie for a few years so took courage one day and played it. We looked so young and as I watched I could see our baby girls grow into young adults in front of my eyes.
There are so many shots of Harry but they brought only smiles … how could I cry when he was obviously having so much fun? Swimming with his girls, fishing in his row boat, walking the streets of far away countries.
Neither did I cry when I heard his voice on tape during the opening of a new radio station in which he had been involved. He was speaking to the public and it was his public voice I heard, not the one I hear constantly in my head, calling me “sweetheart.”
But little things still jar me … a hymn at church that was played at his funeral, his fishing boxes on the basement shelf where he had placed them and his golf clubs sitting in their usual corner.
Many things are long gone. I gave his clothes away, except for a brown leather jacket he wore for years, his Edmonton Eskimo hat and I tie I especially liked. The essence of him still lingers on these things and I cannot part with them. His nephew often shows up at church in his blue jacket. It makes me smile. I remember the day he bought it and how he handsome he looked in it.
I still exit the condo entrance with his voice in my head saying “Stop, there might be a pedestrian just behind the fence.”
And I talk to his photo constantly. He and God must be tired of my chatter. But if I don’t verbalize my thoughts my head feels like a pumpkin … mostly water and no substance (all tears and no real thoughts.)
I met a couple, so obviously in love the other day. There was an almost electrical force surrounding them. I felt like Anna in the King of Siam and almost burst into song …“Hello young lovers … I’ve had a love of my own like yours.” It was a bittersweet moment.
I could of cried, but my pain is beginning to heal and I just smiled and thanked God for the years we had…they were a very special gift.
