Diary of a Widower

Daily entries by a husband, who stayed behind with his two sons

Love is that fleeting second…

TUESDAY,  April 20 – So tired, dead-tired. This is all I was planning to write today.  Things turned out differently.

I was in the Mini on the way to an appointment in the city…  good-looking  women on bicycles sped by. It was a lovely sight and in the back of my mind I saw Jenn on her bike going over the bridges, saw how people looked at her in her denim mini-skirt and purple leggings, her black leather jacket and pale blue scarf. And the black-brown locks with those incredible curls.

Then I began to cry – and I’m still crying as I write it all down.

Why was all that taken away from her? It’s that question – to which there is no answer – that makes me so sad.  Sad for her. Not so much for myself.  She’s dead and I’m not. I’m alive.

I couldn’t shake off that feeling and during the business lunch I felt my mind drifting. Two colleagues were trying to provoke each other. I was the chair and I should have intervened, taken over, and gotten the meeting back on the rails.  But I couldn’t care less.  At that instant I was painfully conscious of the futility of it all. What the fuck am I doing here?  I excused myself, walked out of the room, put on my coat, got into the car and went home.

Home to my children. Love, that’s what I needed right then and that’s what I told Eamonn later in the car, on the way to baseball practice. That’s why I was waiting for him in the schoolyard at 3:30 which was a surprise, since he had expected his brother to pick him up. ‘You know why I enjoy picking you up, Eamonn?’

No, he didn’t know.

‘Love is that fleeting second when our eyes meet.  When I see the little rush of surprise.  Hey, it’s Papa!  You’re standing there. The quick smile of recognition, of affection, of closeness.  This afternoon, Eamonn, I needed that moment.’

Oh, okay. And he accepted my words for what they were worth.  We were both still for a moment. ‘Or do you think I’m a jerk, Eamonn?’  He laughed out loud. ‘That sounded funny, Papa.’

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4 thoughts on “Love is that fleeting second…

  1. I hear you. … Thanks for sharing and take care. x

  2. Thanks for checking in. I popped by on your blog, and was looking in the mirror. Big hug.

  3. I know – not only are our stories tragically similar, we have even chosen the same design for our sites….. Hugs back for sure – and to your boys.

  4. “Why was all that taken away from her?” …I’ve cried more tears over this question than anything….
    Thanks for sharing. Our journey of loss is different, but somehow it brings me comfort to read of similar feelings.

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