I always thought I had to get married until I learned that I didn’t. By then I’d been married for six years. On our first date, he asked me out for a drink. I had a drink while he had a dozen. I looked at the 12 empty glasses of Scotch and water lined up between us on the table and thought, “That’s exciting.” On our second date he recited Dylan Thomas’s “In My Craft and Sullen Art.” I was impressed; reciting poetry meant he wasn’t as cynical as he usually sounded. As he lay dying, I read “In My Craft and Sullen Art” to him. I felt I was going to cry as I read “The lovers lie abed” and I thought, I’m such a cliché. Our third date was a party. He sat in a big armchair, drink in one hand, cigarette in the other, and beckoned to me. I sat on the arm of the chair, then on his lap, then we were necking. I said, “At every party, there’s always a couple necking in the corner. Tonight we’re that couple." He was a WASP from Kansas, and I thought he was exotic. I was an East Coast Jew, and he thought I was exotic. As he lay dying, I held his hand and said, “Now your story will become my story. Is that okay?” His eyes closed, he smiled and nodded.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Slice of Life (and Death)
A week ago today, my husband died. We were together for 52 years, married for 51. (That still feels as unbelievable as the fact that he's dead.) We sometimes thought of
ourselves as the last married couple in America. The day after he died, I wrote
this paragraph, perhaps the beginning of something longer.
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This is a beautiful, beautiful little piece. I'm so sorry for your loss. You describe Your first dates so vividly - I get a little snapshot of what both of you were like. I hope you will expand it. Beautiful writing and so much feeling.
ReplyDeleteI am so very sorry for the loss of your husband. This writing was absolutely captivating and I wanted to keep reading. I hope you keep sharing this story. You write so beautifully. 51 years of marriage is quite the accomplishment.
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness, this took my breath away. Like Kathleen wrote above, I want to keep reading. I hope you'll write more.
ReplyDeleteI'm so very sorry for your loss. Please accept my deepest condolences.
What a lovely thing to say to him at the end. Keep writing!
ReplyDeleteSusan
This is so moving, largely because it shows you as being so vulnerable. I am so sorry for your loss. I know words are so little solace sometimes.
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