My first wife, as I have always reminded her she is, is in the
hospital, and has not been home for over eight weeks. She has had
many ongoing medical conditions, from hereditary thyroid deficiency
to Type 2 diabetes. Her heart efficiency is about 30% after
a heart attack in October, and now her blood sugar levels call for
monitoring and readily available insulin. And what can I say
about myself other than that I am in mourning?
Here I am, in a home where I am surrounded by her choices of
nearly everything I look at. As you come in the front door,
a lovely big bowl of fake flowers greets you, and the walls have
her framed selections, some of family memories. In the off-kitchen
eating area &mdash as we have eliminated a definite dining
room &mdash the wall decorations range from extremely good to
great, and the junk in the adjoining kitchen is definitely OK.
In short, Margaret Hilda MacLeod Crowdis, my present wife,
is just everywhere.
In the middle of the night, I am careful when I get up for
drainage purposes, so as not to disturb her who is not there.
In the morning, I always come downstairs early to read the papers,
and can't help thinking about her preferences for breakfast.
Since I am almost 93, what do you think I think of during
those early hours but the future, and what on earth
(good expression) I can do about it?
Between missing Margie, and wondering when we will again share
the same residence, I am simply reduced to this: I am in mourning
among her souvenirs.
