My two girls in Sunday dresses. We drove during a bad storm,trees falling and mud slides. Yet we all were laughing all the way from Brookdale to Santa Cruz.
We were to be wed. We had lived together for a year. Much to the chagrin of the ECW women. I had become a fallen woman but I was going to make it “right”. I did not give a darn.
Rain poured at the Unity church, a ten minute ceremony with Perry Como singing, my girls nervously giggling and I was a married woman.
The trip home on the winding road became a hazard, no one would go out in this kind of weather but those who wanted to make it legal.
Fourty years ago, the very best years of my life. Behind me that day, a sad childhood, an abusive 17 year old marriage, before me what was to be?
My darling adopted my girls, we had a son, we lived in different places,
as an artist painter can paint wherever he wants.
We were always honeymooners. We always walked holding hands. Fell asleep holding hands. Always together glued by the desire to not let anyone or anything come between us.
The glue did not hold as Alzheimer’s came and divides us. He does not
know about that day 40 years ago, does not know who these gorgeous women are who call him “Daddy”. This year however I will celebrate by myself and know I had the best and no one can steal this.
I will fall asleep holding his hand and I will pray that I have what it takes to keep giving him the care he deserves and needs.
He is my Valentine.