hour by hour

broken clock

December 8 2015

I wish time would have stopped; like our stupid wall clock that hasn’t gonged for two years.  And then I could tell you all of the things I still meant to tell you.  Until you left, I didn’t realize how important that would be.  Things like how I love it when you would hold my hand in bed and we would both fall asleep with my hand in yours.  And how it would make me so damn mad when I was angry about something and then you would say “hey Luuuuucy” and make me laugh.  I wish I could have stopped time so you could hear all of the things that just happen in a day that I need to tell you.  Yeah.  I wish I could have stopped time – for just a moment or two longer.  I was there when you left but I wanted to hold your hand before your heart stopped.  Did you know that I was there?  Could you hear me say “I love you”?  Could you feel that I was in the room and I couldn’t get to you because there were four or more paramedics working on you – trying to get you to live?  Did you hear your sons?  Did you see the paramedics and the policemen with tears in their eyes?

Jeffry saved me a message that you had left him a few weeks before you left.  My heart beats a million beats a minute when I hear your voice.  I don’t ever want to forget your voice.  And now I won’t.

I went to the kids house for tacos.  Megan was cooking and Kyle was teasing with Max and Abby was running around in circles.  Little Ginny just sat on the floor – big eyes trying to take in the happy chaos.  I ate one small taco as I was afraid of eating anything spicy.  On the way home, I stopped at McDonald’s and ordered just a fish patty – no bun – I just wanted to get a little protein in me.  And halfway home, I thought about me working at Burger Chef in Longmont and how we had no money.  Burger Chef was switching to a larger fish, so the employees could buy a case of fish patties for $5 – and we bought two cases.  And we ate fish patties with veggies and ketchup every day.  And then we ran out of veggies and then we ran out of ketchup.  Remember how we laughed about that for the next forty plus years?

I imagine I will have lots of memories like that.  You always took care of me – even if you had to work two jobs.  I was never afraid when I was with you.  We made it through lots of stuff.  This one now – we shall see.

I love you.

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