My ex-husband Larry died last night at 11:30 PM of cancer. His daughter
called me this morning at 2 AM. Thanks to Steven for staying on the phone with
me while I cried.
I can't write any more right now. Read these if you
don't know who I'm talking about:
I first told you all about Larry's
one for why I will always love him.
I just can't believe
I don't really know where to start. A year later, I still miss him. There are times I wish I could call him and talk. I thought about him alot when Steven and I were out west. He always wanted to travel and see the Grand Canyon, and the ghost towns. He loved cowboy movies. Sometimes I think he's trying to tell me something, like he's up there watching out for me. We had two special songs: "Good Morning Beautiful" and "When You Say Nothing At All". Neither one of them are in regular everyday play anymore. But it seems like just when I need a lift, one of those songs will come on the radio. It's like he's saying "Take a deep breath. Appreciate what you have." I know he would have liked Steven. Steven is his kind of man - a working man, a hard worker, a country guy. I really wish they could have met. But I had talked to him about Steven before he died, and I know he approved. He always wanted me to be happy. He was the first man ever to make me truly feel loved and yes, beautiful.
I remember the night I got my tattoo. It was Larry's "Happy 41st Birthday" present to me. He went with me and helped me pick it out. I thought I was so tough, but when the tattoo guy got started, it really hurt. I was trying so hard not to let it show, but I was having a hard time. And I wasn't fooling Larry. About half way through I started to get really hot and dizzy. I leaned up against Larry for support ( I was leaning over since he was tattoing my backside). Suddenly I heard him say something to the tattoo guy and the guy stopped. Then they were sitting me up, getting me some cold water, and fanning me. Apparently I was white as a sheet and about to pass out. After I got some color back, I bent back over and got finished. But Larry was there all the time, holding me up. And we laughed and laughed about how much my backside hurt!
Or the time, after we were already separated, that I was in a car accident. I was driving to school, talking to Larry on my cell phone, when a guy broadsided me. I was knocked unconcious and my phone fell to the floor. Larry didn't know what happened at first, but he stayed on the line listening. He told me later he didn't want to say anything for fear that I would get in trouble if they thought I had been on a cell phone at the time of the accident. When he finally figured out that I had been in a wreck, he listened until he heard the ambulance arrive, then he hightailed to the hospital. He was in the emergency room not too long after I got there. He cried when he came around the curtain and saw me all banged up, and he held my hand while I got stitches in my forehead.
Don't get me wrong - Larry and I were not meant to be husband and wife. But we were good friends. I trusted him. I could talk to him. And he was a good guy. People came to him with their cars to be repaired, because they knew he would do a good job at a reasonable price. The world is a little less bright and a lot less fun because he's not in it. But I'm glad he's up there on my side.
I won't say "Rest in peace". For Larry, it would be more like, "Don't cause too much trouble up there."