In Loving Memory
In Memory of my sweet Linda
(by David Broughton)
My sweet love, now you're gone forever from this
earth, but never from my heart and soul. It wasn't supposed to be this way, if
I had my way, we'd have taken the final step of this mortal coil together, as
we did most every other step through this earthly life.
Now I'm sad, not for you, for you are now free to
be what I always knew you were, an angel of Love. I'm sad for me, and what I
shall miss. Not just the big things, but simple things like folding sheets together,
working as a team, like we often did in many things. I'll miss my companion, my
best friend, and my lover.
I'm angry, not at you, but at the conductor that
left me off that train to Gloryland with you. I would have been happy to ride
in the caboose. We always traveled together, I wanted it to stay that way even
on that final trip.
Feelings that cannot be named rack my body, as
tears fill my eyes. Thoughts of "what if" cloud my mind. I feel
guilty, what did I do or not do that could have prevented this separation? Was
there anything I could have done? I know this not.
I'm lonely, for you were more than a lover, you
were my companion, confidant and best friend, so I lost not one but four in
one. I shall miss you always, though somehow I hope to find a way to put it in
a pocket to keep for private moments, so that I can do whatever job I was left
behind to complete, for when that's done, I shall be with you again, for we
are, and will forever be soulmates. I loved you with all my heart, the best I knew
how to love. You taught me how to love, and how to receive love in return. Love
is infinite, never ending. Your capacity to Love was unfathomable. No amount of
time or space can put true love asunder. Linda, I really do hope you know how
much you were loved by me, and everyone you met. Farewell my sweet, until we
meet again in the golden sky.
Side note of explanation to the readers: The
"ride in the caboose" refers to a small gift she bought me one
Christmas that had much sentiment attached. It was only a simple plastic
caboose, but the reason she gave it still moves me. We were sitting at a
railroad crossing early that summer, waiting for a train to pass. I happened to
mention that I missed seeing the caboose on the train. She remembered that, and
put a note with the toy caboose, "So your train will always have a
caboose."
The Last Goodbye
Wednesday, April 13, 2011 will forever be acid
etched into my memory as the hardest day I've ever had to face. This was the
day I had to say that last goodbye to my beloved Linda, my wife, companion,
best friend, and lover for nearly thirty years.
According to her wishes, I had to arrange for her
cremation. Not only did she not want to be in the ground someplace, she didn't
want to burden me with the outrageous expense of a fancy funeral, though she
was worthy of a royal send-off. Of course, I couldn't just make the
arrangements over the phone, and not take the opportunity to say goodbye, even
though in my head I know that body is just an empty shell, I could not so much
as imagine letting her go and not saying the things I had to say (they will
remain private.)
After some delay by the coroner's office returning
the body, I needed to be at the funeral home by six in the evening. Near the
funeral parlor is a big grocery, where I stop to buy a single red rose. I gave
her a single red rose when we first dated, and throughout our time together.
This time of year, it's still bright and sunny at that time, allowing me to use
my sunglasses to hide my bloodshot, baggy, tearful eyes from the rest of the
world.
I watch carefully, looking for the funeral home,
just when I think I must have missed it, I see it. I guide the truck into the
lot, park and reluctantly step away from the safe haven my pickup truck
provides. After two or three deep breaths to keep my composure, I walk to the
front entrance. Ron, the man I'd been talking to on the phone, greets me
gently.
There is always the infernal paperwork to get out
of the way, so Ron gives me the choice of doing it first, or after I say
farewell. Knowing that once I've said my farewell, I'll be in no shape to
consider paperwork, I decide we should do that first, I'm also thinking it
gives me a bit more time to ready my mind for what will be the hardest thing
I'll ever do. Ron shows me to a conference room, I'm aware of the table and
chairs, but not much else in the room as he gently guides me through the
paperwork, signing where necessary.
While he files the paper work, Ron sets me up with
an ice cold Coke, and a paper towel, then leaves me alone. At my request, he
takes the wedding band from her hand at my request. I want to put it on a chain
to wear around my neck. Ron gets me the ring, and gives me a just the right
amount of time to face up to what I have to do. Sure I could just walk away now
that the paperwork is done, but the man I am couldn't do it, no way.
I don't have a clue to how long I spent with my
bride, how many tears were shed, or exactly what was said. I wouldn't make it
public if I did. With Ron's help, I took a lock of her hair, for no particular
reason that I can think of, but something inside wouldn't let me not do it. Now
I'm in a more confused state of mind, I want to, to run away, but I also want
to stay, to spend every more moment possible with the remains of my loving
wife. I turned to leave, but instead grabbed another tissue, turned back kissed
her head, and said my final goodbye. Ron shows me out, and at my question
points out the restroom.
After some time in the rest room, splashing cold
water on my face, I get it together enough to go out to my truck. I get in, but
don't start it, I just sit there in a daze. I try to call my friend in Kansas,
she has a way of calming me that nobody else can do. She doesn't answer, so I
put the phone down, shake hands through the window with Ron, minding my manners
as my Linda would have wanted. I drive a few blocks, before the cell phone
rings, I can't answer it, I'm trying to drive, I'm in a daze and all thumbs, I
drop the phone on the floor. I leave it there until I can pull over to talk to
my friend. She takes the time to talk to me for a while, just hearing her voice
is calming, though it doesn't take the pain away, it allows my mind to focus
better.
I had to do some other things, like give most of
my wife's clothes to a thrift store operation where the profits benefit
orphaned or abused children. I know Linda would have wanted that, she insisted
we shop there and help out as much as we could.
The drive home is pretty much a mystery to me,
though I do remember stopping once to take a call from one of Linda's
daughters, by her first marriage. All I can remember of the drive home was the
tunnel vision and going so slow people behind me would honk when they couldn't
pass. Thirty-four miles seemed like a thousand miles in a dark tunnel.
When I get home, I try to eat, but can't get down
much, I try to talk to friends online or by phone, but can't get the one I
really need to speak with, the only one that can calm me. Soon, I take off my
outer clothes, collapse on the bed, my mind and body are exhausted from days of
little or no sleep. Soon, I fall into a sleep more akin to passing out from the
emotional overload. Four hours later, I wake and find myself writing this down.
Why I must, I haven't a clue, self-therapy, I suppose. Oh, by the way, I did
find it odd that we were married on the 13th, and I said my last farewell on
the 13th.
Please, do me a favor if you can, reach out to
help a child, in any way you can. Many times some attention alone will make a
big difference. Read a story, help a children's charity, do but what you can
feel good about, help me honor my Linda in that way.
The Last Goodbye, a poem to my Lost Love
Ninth of April, the very worst day
My angel has gone on her way,
To God I must stand and say,
Why take my love away?
Now it's a forever goodbye, no reprieve.
I must question exactly what I believe.
If I get to meet the Father someday,
I'm certain I'll have a lot to say.
I must say goodbye to an empty shell.
I feel like telling God to go to hell.
To take my love away is wrong.
I don't want to stay here long.
Life without love is not worth a damn
It hurts so much to be alone as I am.
My joy has been stolen in the night.
No way in the universe that's right.
Linda, my love, I hope I join you someday
Maybe then I can tell you all I didn't say.
Until that time, open your wings to fly
closer dear, for the Last Goodbye.
Books by Linda and Dave Broughton
In memory of Linda
In memory of Linda
Pane for the Holidays, Ash Pane novel number four
THREE QUEENS and six bullets TAKES ALL
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