May 02, 2011 - 4:14 pm
It has been just nine months since my wife of 32 years died.
In 1975 I was struggling in a private college in San Diego. I was working full time as a nurse’s aide while trying to navigate 15 units living in a dorm. I was struggling.
Last week, 36 years later, I flew down to Sand Diego on business and returned to my employer from so long ago. I walked the same hall where I worked night shift. A social worker asked me if I was looking for someone. I explained my reasons for returning.
I told her (Social worker) that way back then at the age of 19 I had no idea where I was going. I was drifting yet working so hard. I shared that at that time my girlfriend who would later become my wife, gave me permission to accept that what I was doing wasn’t working and to leave and come home. I shared that if it had not been for her, who knows how much longer I would have floundered. After I came home my life starting making sense with a concrete plan and achievements, slowly but surely.
I became a professional, a husband, father, and my life made sense.
She was fascinated by my sharing.
For me it is a part of walking through this maze of grieving and how much we gave each other, not always realizing the scope of our spouse’s gifts until they are gone.