By now, you may have heard of the Great Flood of July 23, the one which blessed us with about seven inches of water in our basement. I spent a goodly amount of time cleaning up the mess, throwing ruined items away, drying others, washing others, sorting countless photos which got wet.
I thought I was through.
This wreath is also gone
Little did I know when I went downstairs (late to start decorating because I'd been finishing Forever Young: Blessing or Curse) to my horror I discovered I'd missed two containers of carefully packed away Christmas decorations, which had tipped over in the flood, and somehow trapped water inside. As soon as I opened the cartons, I had to shut them fast, then go outside with garbage bags, and wearing gloves, removed what was inside for the garbage.
I only managed to salvage two items, which were ceramic and could be sanitized. Fortunately, I do have photos from prior years to remember my decorations by. Still, they're not the same as the real thing.
It reminds me of other losses that can't be replaced, which have occurred in my family, and everyone's. Those are the people near and dear to us. Only memories and photos are left, instead of the real thing. I'm grateful for those who are still with me -- my husband and family, my friends, both off and online, and my little buddy, Rascal.
A Great Big Thanks to everyone who has enriched my life!
This is the story of the 55 year old widow whose husband had been killed in a hit and run accident. In desperation, she takes a pill to be 24 forever, then finds out the pill isn't all it's cracked up to be. Her husband knew that. Was his death really an accident?
FIRST CHAPTER EXCERPT:
A limp object lay sprawled in the parking lot where Dorrie was to meet her husband. It looked like, no it couldn’t be...
Pulse pounding, she hit the brakes and flung open the door. A few steps, and she stood staring in disbelief at her husband’s still form. That red streak didn’t belong in Larry’s salt and pepper hair, nor should it mar his olive skinned cheeks, and trickle onto his white cotton shirt.
She groped in her purse for the smartphone. Fingers shaking, she dialed 911. “There’s been an accident at the Life is for Living Institute. I need an ambulance. Hurry, please.”
A helpless feeling engulfed her. If only she knew first aid, but in all her fifty-five years, she’d never bothered to learn. She had to do something, but what? Bending down, knees scraping the asphalt, she touched her husband’s hand. “Larry, it’s all right. I’m here.” She wanted to be brave for him, but couldn’t keep her voice from quavering.
He whispered something she couldn’t catch, something about his iPhone.
“I found it on the nightstand, Larry. It’s right here in my purse.”
“Dorrie, I want you to keep it. Something’s…on it,” he gasped.
She bent closer. “I know honey, all those songs and photos. They mean a lot to me, too. Don’t worry, when we get home tonight, we’ll share them together.”
“No, more…Life is for Living isn’t…Forever Young isn’t…”
He struggled to speak, but his voice faded in and out. He probably shouldn’t talk. Where was that ambulance? Her husband needed help.
Larry flashed a weak smile and looked straight into her eyes. “Love ya,” he whispered.
Stifling a sob, she completed the ritual. “Love ya, back.” In their thirty years of marriage, how often had they said those words to each other?
His lips stilled. His hand slackened. His brown eyes stared unseeingly, as his face froze into a smile.
This can’t be happening. Larry, you can’t leave me. It’s too soon.
Blood rushed to her head. Roaring filled her ears. Larry couldn’t be gone. She’d prove it. Dorrie bent to kiss his lips. They felt warm and soft. He must be alive. Soon the ambulance would come, the paramedics would fix him, and he’d be all right.
She glanced again at Larry’s still form. The truth hit, sucking her breath away. She didn’t need a medical examiner to tell her what she could see with her own eyes. Larry had left and would never return. Her stomach convulsed, her chest heaved with sobs.
It shouldn’t end like this, not in the middle of a parking lot. Larry deserved better. So did she.