It’s so vital to live in the moment and yet, why am I constantly reliving memories of my deeply loved departed husband? And the memories are all the good stuff, when I know darn well, there weren’t just bumps in the road, there were craters! I mean, you can’t pit two highly vocal, headstrong maniacs together and not be the inspiration for a plaque that hangs on our bedroom wall that reads, “This marriage was made in heaven, but so was lightning and thunder.”
Glenn was an imposing figure, standing almost 6’ 4” and when we went out to dinner once in the beginning of our marriage this waitress, who was all giddy and flustered while struggling to take our order, turned to my new husband and asked, “Sir, you know who you remind me of?”
“THIS woman’s husband?” I blurted out, pointing to myself and suddenly feeling appalled at being so insecure and displaying a twinge of jealousy that’s so unappealing to everybody, especially a man.
Rightfully so she dismissed me and my intrusive response, and what she said I later learned from Glenn, he had heard many times before. Okay, maybe not many times but at least a few times. Excitedly she giggled, “You look an awful lot like Sean Connery.”
Sean Connery?! I thought. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to order my dinner or chew my food fast enough so that we could hurry back home – alone – together! Suddenly my husband had never seemed more appealing. Right then and there I made a silent vow that he would never EVER see me looking less than a ravishing movie star at all times. But there was one problem, okay, maybe two: I don’t have the features or presence of a beauty and because he was truly a “man’s man,” he thought I looked sexy in a bright fluorescent orange jacket for hunting and hip boots for fishing. I had to forget Vogue and think more Field & Stream.
Funny, now that the only man I ever loved is gone, I refer to him as my beloved, but when he was with me he was the one who made our marriage “mission impossible.” Like I was the easy one — ha! Or was I? There was the time my sister was visiting us and I confided in her that I sometimes felt jealous because I thought every woman was looking at Glenn.
He happened to be on the phone in some tirade, so she leans over and whispers in my ear, “Believe me, Karen, nobody is looking!” She said it with a smile and a wink and I guess you had to be there to appreciate the humor and timing of her remark. But I realized then that possibly only in my eyes, (and maybe in that darn waitress’s too) he was all things massive and masculine, and I sometimes secretly gazed at him until my eyes hurt. Now it’s my heart that’s aching so, and I’m thinking that even some of the bad days I once had with him would now be considered good days because he would be here with me.
It’s 86 degrees out today and I have this crazy notion to put on my fluorescent orange hunting jacket and hip boots. I think when you lose your special everyday person, anything that makes you feel more alive is allowed. I’ll be getting an added bonus because I’ll be standing here all bright and beautiful. Thank you, my Glenn, for warm feelings that are with me even though you’re no longer here. But you ARE here, forever in my heart.