Being at the pool, on the last day of September, is awesome. The high is going to be 82 degrees and that’s perfect for me. I’m a sun, moon and stars kinda of girl. I get energy from them all. I don’t know if it has anything to do with being born on the July 4th or not and yes that makes me a Cancer too.
I love the water. Any kind really. Pool, ocean, hot tub you get the picture. It calms me and helps me truly organize my thoughts. It gives me perspective on things. Like when you take a long, hot shower, you feel so relaxed and your mind is set free. If only for a little while.
I’m not alone today. There’s one older gentleman, who is also a Veteran. He seems to like the sun as much as I do. His wife doesn’t, but she and I have a lot in common. They’re newlyweds. She lost her first husband 2 or 3 years ago, due to illness. She’s been helping me in my grief process. Letting me ask questions, listening, and letting me cry. I see meeting her as a blessing.
I know the worlds problems will be here when I leave to walk back home. But for a few hours I can drift away into the sun. I’m remembering the wonderful memories that William and I shared on our last vacation. We were in Villano Beach, FL. Very romantic, we had dinner by the ocean after spending the day in the sun. We had our picture taken and you can see the moon behind us. It was a perfect day.
I left the pool. People started coming in and I needed water. The walk home felt good. There was a slight breeze blowing and the sun was coming through the trees. I was starting to calm down. I really get anxious now. A lot more than I used to. No rhyme or reason either. I checked the mail and cut between the houses and voila, I’m home again or as close to a home as I can get right now.
I sometimes wonder why I write. I guess to put my feelings into words. I once had to write a paper in my Sociology class. I was a Junior in High School. My paper was on Suicide. My best friend, Dana, hung herself when we were 14. She had wanted me to come over but I had to go to a birthday party on the other street. The girl went to my church. As I was coming home the ambulance had just arrived. She died at the hospital. I’ve never forgiven myself for not going to her house.
The picture we had taken in Villano Beach, our last vacation, was the picture William text me that morning he shot himself. He felt the same way I did when it came to keepsakes and memories. I know what everybody says I need to do. I guess I’ll fail this too. I just don’t know if I can forgive myself. It was his decision, his gun, his life. But what about me? I had no say in the matter. Our life meant nothing? Stupid things run through my mind and I hate myself for it. I know why he did it! I guess you always wish for more time.