Til death do us part. Our lawyer assured us it would last til then. And it did. Yesterday I got this letter with my alimony check for April returned to me. My ex-wife had died on March 25th after a brief illness, I was informed.
A sad and ignominious way for it to end? Who would have guessed it back in 1954. Well, perhaps something like it could have been predicted. Oh, those naive Eisenhower years!
What’s in a life? Who can say? Hers was a sad life in many ways, but in other ways good. Isn’t that always the case?
May they rest in peace: Christopher M. Seavey and now his mother, Anne.
ps. Perhaps a slight irony: March 25th 1939 was the day our house burned down and I watched it from the library after being dragged there by the librarian whose name was May Day.
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‘Tis strange Zdad. I can’t wait to share with my sibling the exact phrase you used when you shared the news with me yesterday afternoon. It would seem crass to your readers, though, so I won’t write it here. Would be tough to explain unless someone knew you in “real life.”
March 1939, you would have been 10 years old. I don’t recall the part about the librarian being named May Day, though. That’s kind of funny.
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Yes, May Day was an intense older woman often with a red face who never walked when she could run, sort of like the Red Queen in Alice Through the Looking-Glass. She sure knew how to keep the noise level down in the library though.
Well, that night my mother first dragged me down the stairs from my bedroom and then May Day was outside and dragged me at top speed, me in my bare feet, the 50 yards or so to the library where I could watch the barn become a ball of fire a little later.
Oh, and yes, the exact phrase I used might appear crass to some readers who don’t know me in “real life”.
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It is a bit odd, the date thing, and more so because I’ve heard so many stories about things happening on a certain date over the years; maybe we just pay more attention to those particular events that fall on a certain date, and if all else were considered, there would be no oddity, though I don’t believe that.
How long were you two married, Mardi? And do you feel like writing what were the best parts and the parts that predicted your divorce? I am curious these days how different people determine for themselves how / when they ‘know’ things are over, and what the difference is between those people, and those who feel that things are over, but cling to the familiar, and make due (do?) ’til death do they part… -
We were married for just over five years, from Sept. 22, 1955 to Dec. 1, 1960 when we separated. I was too immature to get married. I didn’t want to marry her in the first place but was afraid not to. Now, I’m sure that makes no sense to you, but that’s the way it was. We could have good times together and laugh about things. You see, we were in this church group where everyone was supposed to pair off and get married. That’s what you did in the 1950’s, at least in the group I was in at the Arlington Street Church in Boston. Or, at least I thought so. Chris was born on January 25, 1957, and it wasn’t clear at first that he was retarded. She pushed the separation and I felt an enormous sense of relief when I moved to that room in Brookline on December 1, 1960.
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Well, doesn’t seem like any damage done…all in the spirit of tumbling along, as we all are. I think the ‘shoulds’ of life are just as distinct now, just as pressing, though many fewer for sure, and different…
Makes you wonder, “What the heck was that about?”
I know I over-squeeze events, looking for some worthwhile nutrition I can take away from it; I do believe in nutritious value, all events, but rarely do they rhyme or makes much 3-D fittable application, identifiable by us mortals anyway… -
Well, I’m not sure if there wasn’t damage done. I’m afraid there was some tragedy involved there. It’s over and done with now, but the sadness lingers.
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Well, here’s to you sitting with the sadness, until it melts and makes way (all the space it must’ve been taking up all these years, practically un-noticed…)for more of your true expression, Mardi, perfect, as at the moment of conception. Cheers!
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Hi Mardé,
I think that a part of your life has passed on with this lady.
I can understand you feeling sad; she did share your life, and love, and you had a son together.That’s something special.
Remember those around you today that love you, too !Take care and see you soon.
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Thanks, Chris and Barbara, for your very nice comments. It was very difficult and now it’s over, except for the memories and feelings. These will never go away, but yes, they can be transformed into an understanding and acceptance.
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