In another 45 minutes it will be August 26th, our 34th anniversary. We used to laugh and say that we have a pretty good shot to being one of those couples married 50 years. We were married at 22 so both of us making it to 72 never seemed like a reach.
Jimmy, assuming he'd be old promised the kids "If I feel myself going I'll try to take your mother with me. This way she won't live on to be a burden to you." The kids never objected...hmmmm
We were meant to be married, Jimmy and me. At our ninth grade graduation he pointed me out to his mother, "You see that girl...the blonde with the flip hairdo? I'm going to marry her." Fanny, my future mother-in-law laughed. She stopped laughing when we got engaged. I wonder what that means?
I look at my old wedding album and I actually remember posing for those pictures. I can see my 92 year old granddmother shuffling into the lobby of The Fountainbleu and saying, "What a beautiful apartment the kids have."
I remember the cost was $23.50 a person and that was expensive. My mother offered us $5,000. instead of a wedding and we never considered it. (well, I never considered it)
Jimmy's hair is so long in the pictures and I have no nails - It was before acrillics so my sparkily diamond sat on a smooth young hand with stubby fingers. Today I've got great fake nails and no amount of hand cream can bring back that hand.
My sister, my maid of honor, gone now too, was stoned on grass and I see her giggling in all the pictures. She kept making stupid comments that only the bridal party to the left of us could hear. That side is cracking up while the side to the right of us is standing there nice and composed.
On our way to Las Vegas for our honeymoon the flight attendant (stewardess then) saw us holding hands at take off and she sent over a half bottle of champagne. She told us we looked so in love that she knew we were on our honeymoon. We didn't tell her that we were actually holding on to each other because we were nervous about flying. After that, we always held hands at take off hoping for free champagne. It never happened again.
We landed and I said 'my husband' for the first time.
"Can I take help you, miss?"
"No, thanks. I'm just waiting. My husband is renting a car." MY HUSBAND?
Our last anniversary was last anniversary. No more 'my husband.'
So, what will I do tomorrow? No dinner reservation. No cards to buy, presents to unwrap. No one to share these memories with me anymore. This must be what it's like to be old. Last Spouse Standing. I'll go to the cemetery and do what I always did, yak away and hope he's listening.
I just hope I can find it. (see entry: Lost In The Cemetery)