Response To Living Life Together by dgood648

Here it is 5:27 AM, 25 August 2015, and I, like dgood648, I’m thinking about the past, present, and future all at the same time, Barb’s and mine. For a half-century we’ve taken each other for granted, sort of. But the wear and tear of time has taken its toll, and the odds are that one of us is going to be left behind to face the world. What will it be like? Only those who have been there and done that truly know, and dgood648 seems to speak with a voice of authority.

I’ve never truly grieved. Not for my parents, or my grands. I’ve always pushed that emotion aside, because there didn’t seem to be enough time. But I’ve watched Barb experience it with her mother, then here father, and finally her older brother. In each instance I’ve given her time and space to sort things out.

But how do others deal with grief when it’s someone close, a mate, a sibling, or a parent. I had a late friend, a retired Marine Gunnery Sergeant. He was tough as a horseshoe. He lived the last few decades of his life roughing it in a Pie Town, New Mexico park belonging to the county. Why? Maybe it was his many years serving in World War II, Korea, and then Vietnam, and surviving without the creature comforts most of us take for granted. He owned a house not a mile from the park, but I always found him at Jackson Park sleeping in a cramped travel trailer when he was tired, occupying a lawn chair drinking beer and staring into the orange flames of his campfire when he was not.

I, too, spent some time at Pie Town, because Barb and I own property nearby. And in the years we visited our remote eleven acres I never learned anything about Gunny’s wife, or his family, that is, until his 30-something daughter met an untimely death.

One evening I found him at Jackson Park. Having ridden a motorcycle from Dallas, more than 700 miles, I was weary and glad to find his campfire. I grabbed his spare lawn chair and moved in close to the fire, but I said nothing, not even hello, nor did he. A quarter-hour may have passed when he looked across the fire, tears streaming down his cheeks. “It’s not natural that our kids go before us,” he said.

Not another word was spoken. When it was time, he went to his trailer and closed the door. I unrolled my sleeping bag and whiled away the night dozing and considering the words he’d spoken.

I never saw Gunny again, but his words had said it all. Barb isn’t my daughter. She is the best friend, and what was I doing wasting these precious moments by myself. This seemed crazy. Gunny wasn’t up, when I rode the 14 miles to Quamato for breakfast. Then, with a full belly and all the coffee I could hold, I mounted up and headed back for Dallas, vowing never to leave home again without my bride.

And I never left home again without her.

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “Response To Living Life Together by dgood648

  1. It’s an interesting tale Scott.
    My grandfather died when I was 8 years old. He loved me a lot as I was the eldest grandson. Something strange happened that day. As his dead body was brought back from morgue and put in our hall, many women including my grandmother were crying heavily as it’s a ritual way of expressing grief among Indian families.

    I saw them and started crying out loud like them. I tried to assuage my grandma and aunts too.

    After a few hours as evening approached some food was sent to our house from neighborhood as it’s not cooked in the house where death has occurred as per rituals.

    As I had dinner and I was lying down on bed upstairs with my 5 year old sibling–I told him : ” Though he has passed away I don’t feel his absence; I feel life keeps moving.”

    This event was something unexpected for me as I had seen death of a dear one for the first time from my own eyes and it caused a transformation of sorts. It remained in my memory so vividly after all those years.

    Best Wishes,
    Anand

    Like

    • Scott says:

      I truly appreciate your kind words. Barb and I were apart for extended periods, the most serious was for the Cuban Missile Crisis, and another time when was the navigation equipment maintainer for a tanker aircraft refueling JFK’s fighter escort when he went over seas.

      Thanks again for your kind words.

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s