It Would Have, Should Have Been

Would have been, should have been thirty-eight years. Instead you were called to your heavenly home. Days like today, I miss you terribly, but I would not ask you to come back. I know where you are now, you are healthy, you are with all of our friends and family who have gone on before. But I miss you.

Days like today, my mind wanders down memory lane. I remember the day we met and how awkward I felt. I remember how our relationship stirred it up. A relationship you had been in had just fallen apart before I was hired on where you worked. The trouble they tried to cause, but we endured. I changed jobs and later so did you. All the while we loved.

We went on grand adventures with your daughter and sometimes your nephew. The beach calling to us. The time we went fishing on one of the barrier islands and was catching sand sharks. The biggest was maybe a foot to eighteen inches long. But the minute Jody heard the word shark, he was done fishing. When our son came along those trips continued. To the beach or mountains, the times we followed our favorite country band, Sawyer Brown. The photos we have of our son with members of that band and of his personal favorite, Joe Diffy. Your disbelief when you wanted to trade my car in and I told you I would only agree if we got an SUV. That Explorer took us on many of those adventures and made the rare snow day easier to navigate.

Our life was not all sunshine and roses, there were storms and thorns. We argued, especially when the stress of the moment got the better of us. But we still loved. We found ways around, over, through what ever issue we were struggling with. We made it through your time of difficulty finding a job and my breast cancer battle. God brought me through to good health and you to a job that lead to that final one, the best one. Good people who cared deeply for their employees. They proved that over the course of your employment with them.

I never believed you would drive a tractor trailer across the country, but oh the places you saw. The storms you made it through, the people you met. The sound of that truck coming home, and the sound of the truck leaving, I still remember. The sounds of trucks traveling up on the main road harmonizing with the memories in my head and heart. I miss you.

We are doing the best we can here. You would be so proud of your son. He has become quite the fine man. He works hard like you did, but he knows how to take time away better than you did. The balance is better I believe. I’m doing what I can to do the best I can. Though I am learning how to ask for and accept help. The church family are still very good about helping but you know their heart because of the times they helped us before you left. I have found a level of peace and contentment. I know, I know you made me promise to find someone else and not be alone, but this being alone, its not that bad. I’ve been called some names because of my choice and I’ve endured people who do not understand but that’s okay. It isn’t their life. The grief that was at one time so difficult to deal with, has now become less painful and more of a quiet memory. Thoughts that come around and remind me of what was but not in a bad way. In a comforting, gentle manner.

It would have, should have been thirty-eight years, but God had other plans. I miss you, but I wouldn’t ask you to come back.

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