My Aunt Rosie was very special to me.  She was one of Dad's older sisters and I loved her dearly.  She made everything fun.  And she took my sister and I lots of places and we got to do lots of things that we probably would not otherwise experienced.   I have always given her credit for my knowledge of West Virginia geography.  She and my uncle, before he passed away in 1967,  would take us on weekend excursions through our home state.  When we got older, after Uncle Morris was gone, we even went to the Ohio State Fair!  It was such a treat for us. 

We visited the southern part of the state where the coalfields are.  We went to the Becky Exhibition Mine that showed us exactly how that coal was mined, riding the cars into the mine.  They took us to the outdoor dramas, Honey in the Rock and the Hatfield's and McCoy's at Grandview State Park.  We visited Harpers Ferry in the very eastern part of WV.  Look closely at a map of WV, the eastern panhandle is shaped like a dinosaur's head!  Harpers Ferry is at  the very tip of its head.  Those places and practically everything in between.  I have such fond memories of those trips.  Along with making wonderful memories, we were learning something all the time.  I became very good at reading the map and figuring how far to the next destination.   We would pack picnics and stop at the road side rests that were so common back then.  They almost always had an awesome view of the West Virginia mountains or would be right beside a beautiful meandering river with lots of  big flat rocks to walk on. 

When we were older, I was maybe 12, she took my sister Georgianna who was 14, and our cousins Jim and Gordie who were both about 17 to the Ohio State Fair.  Wow.  We had never seen anything like it in our lives!    It just seemed to go on forever.  And on the fairgrounds, somewhere near the middle, I think, was a huge red cardinal.  It was maybe 20-25 feet high and that was the spot to meet with friends and family.  ...ok, you go there, we are going here, we'll meet you back here at X oclock!..      Such great memories of loved ones, who sadly have already gone, except my sister and I .   Aunt Rosie died in 1990 at the age of 70...complications from diabetes.  Both cousins are gone, too.  Gordie was killed in an auto accident on his way to my house on Christmas Day, 1995.  He was 47.  And Jim died suddenly at the age of 56 from an anurism.   Both were Vietnam veterans, both in active duty at the same time when I was in junior high and high school...both like big brothers I never had and both gone way too soon.    But sister and I have those memories to hold on to.

Those were the simpler times.  When a weekend car ride was the adventure of a lifetime.  When a summer fair was the highlight of your year.  When the most important thing in life was spending time with Aunt Rosie.  When the ride was the adventure.  When you actually looked forward to going back to school to tell everyone what you had done...because, of course, there were no cell phones, computers, and all the instant contact that goes with that.  You just had to keep re-living those memories in your head until you actually SAW someone to tell them to.....and they became so much sweeter.  Yes, those were simpler times....

One of our recent assignments was to write about differences and when we discovered them...differences between siblings, or other family members.  I have thought and thought about this.  I have differences with both of my sisters, but it has always been that way and I find it difficult to pinpoint any given event or day in time when I realized it.  Just seems that we have always known we were all different in many ways and we accept and embrace those differences.  The same way that we acknowledge our similarities.  And the differences with my daughter, I have vented about in a previous journal, so maybe that would qualify as my assignment!!! 

Truly, this is a difficult task for me.  Next assignment, please!  lol....

I was raised on a dairy farm in the beautiful Kanawha River Valley of West Virginia.  Route 35 cuts through the farm....with the cropland and milking parlor and our small house  on the river side of the road, and the big farmhouse where my grandparents lived, the corncrib, the toolshed and heifer barn on the hill side of the road.  There was a small tunnel that went under the road where cattle could be herded from one pasture to another.  As children, we had chores to do from the time we were big enough to hold the teat buckets to feed baby calves and gather eggs from the chicken house to running the larger machinery as we grew older.   There were four of us.  My older sister, Georgianna, myself, my sister Julie and the only son, my baby brother, Petie.  (Of course, most everyone calls him Pete, now, except me.) 

We had everything we needed while growing up, and working on the farm was just what life was all about.  I especially loved spending time with Dad doing the barn chores.  Georgianna would rather be helping Mother with the chores at the house.  And almost every evening as we came to the house after the evening milking, we would bring the milk bucket home filled with fresh milk.  Dad always cautioned us to stir the milk before dipping it out to take home.  Otherwise,  not long after it was stowed in the refrigerator, it would become half milk, half thick, rich cream that rose to the top of the container.  And that cream needed to stay in the cooler tank.  The butterfat content determined the price that was paid for your milk.

On cold winter evenings, especially, Mother would treat us to hot chocolate.  She carefully measured cocoa, sugar, and a dash of salt with the milk in a large kettle on the stove.  As the steam rose, we could smell the chocolate simmering in the milk.  On special occasions, she might even surprise us with rich marshmallow creme to put on top.   We would sit around the kitchen table and enjoy our special treat.  Our family always spent lots of time at the kitchen table.  We talked about what we did at school, what chores had to be done the next day on the farm, we planned the garden and Dad explained which crops would go into which fields that year.   When it was our time to host the 4-H club  meeting, Mother would always make a variety of cookies or homemade doughnuts and we would have that wonderful hot chocolate for all the kids.   Everyone loved it!

No...we didn't have fancy chocolate bars or exotic wrapped treats.  We had your basic Hershey's cocoa combined with the freshest and best milk in the world.  It was inexpensive, but made us feel so very special and is one of the memories that make me smile as I grow older.

Well!  The cardiac queen of my life,  best friend Bev, is afraid that I am doing too much.  That I am "running around"  too much and not resting.  I began explaining that when I sit or lie down to rest that I can't do it.  I begin thinking that I could be visiting a friend, or going to one of the kids ball games or stop by the greenhouse to see my co-workers there or....the list goes on.  I feel like I am burning daylight just sitting in that recliner.   And, Bev, as I plead my case,  I am home every evening...it's not like I am out for hours at a time - all the time.  She understood.  Because she said a lot of cardiac patients feel the same way.  They feel better than they have in months and tend to overdo.   They feel like they have been given a new lease on life and don't want to miss any of it.    Some, with more advanced heart disease than I have, find themselves with another heart attack.  After studying my records and test reports, she doesn't really have that fear....but just wants me to be more cautious and aware of how much I am doing.    

And maybe, just maybe I do need to force myself to rest more.  Just sit there anyway.  But it is so hard.  I am so used to getting up and hitting the floor at a dead run and working two jobs and keeping care of my yardwork and such.  Now, I cannot work, I cannot cut grass or run the weedeater (yet), so I feel as though I should be doing something.  And dusting furniture and picture frames is not my idea of a good time!!  lol....I never had the TIME to go visiting and that is what I want to do the most of now.  To talk and laugh and solve the worlds problems at Kay's kitchen table.   To go down to the farm and hold down those rockers on the front porch!  To go watch Anna kick butt playing shortstop on her fastpitch travel team.  To stop by the greenhouse and walk around marvelling at how much things have grown and how much has been sold and oh, my god, is it nearly time to start poinsettas already?!!   I DO  feel I was given a new lease on life.  I DON'T want to miss any of it.  

But her position today won out.   Why?   She asked me one question.....Do you want to be able to come to visit me?  I called Kim and Teri and cancelled.    

My phone rang a little after four Sunday afternoon.  It was my daughter, Kayla. 

"Mom, what's wrong with John?"  she asked.  "John, John who, what are you talking about?"  I questioned.

"Little John!  Justin was at the emergency room and saw Uncle Pete and heard they were life-flighting John to Ohio State."    I felt instantly sick.  It had to be life-threatening for that to be happening.  I told her I would find out and call her back.  I couldn't think....who should I call?  My hands were shaking so badly, I couldn't push the right buttons on my cell phone.  I could only imagine the worst. I really felt as though I would throw up.    I pulled it together long enough to dial Jules.  She and John's mother, Laura were well into their 2 1/2 hour drive to Columbus.  Julie began explaining about the thumb.   "But...wait!  Are there any other injuries?  Is John ok?"  I asked anxiously.   "Yes, yes, John is ok...it is just his thumb and the ER doctors felt that he had the best chance at saving it and regaining use that they recommended he be air-lifted (as opposed to life-flighted) to Ohio State University Hospital.  Time is important, right now.  "  A wave of relief swept over me.  The little man would be ok.  He was going to be fine.

Jules gave the rest of the details and promised to keep me informed as they received more news.  I got off the phone and dialed Kayla back.  I told her what I had just learned.  "The reason Justin was at the ER is because TJ beat the crap out of him....his nose is broken, his eye-socket is broken..."  I interrupted, "Kayla, I have heard all of the details I want or need to hear."  "I cannot believe you called me with so little information and had me so upset, knowing I am getting over this heart attack."  "Oh, sorry, Mom. But, I knew I would have to tell you about Justin, because I knew you would read the paper online and see it.  The police were here and everything..." Again I interrupted, I have heard all I need to know, Kayla.   I ended the conversation  and got off the phone.

As I sat waiting for my stomach to ease out of my throat back to  where it belonged, I began to think about what had just happened and how I found it out.   It was just another confirmation of what a drama queen my daughter really is.   She has everyone else's phone numbers.  Why would she have not called one of  them to find out what was going on?  Why did she not call one of my sisters  to find out if I had been told?   Why would she put me under such stress and worry?  And the real reason is:  because she really is all about herself.  She didn't give one thought to my condition.  She was more interested in being the drama-trama queen.  She was more interested in Justin's (her husband's) latest predicament.  I am uninterested in all that now.  I cannot and don't want to live that "crisis of the day" world that she rotates in.  Just one more example of the disrespect.  Just one more example of 'not thinking'.  Just one more example of not having her Mother's interests at heart.  Just one more example of what and who this person is.  The daughter that I do not know.  I know she is mine and I love her.  But I do not understand how she thinks...or IF she thinks.  I do not understand her mind-set on so many things.  I don't understand her on so many levels.  It is sad, but like so many things in life, it is what it is. 

I am thankful that John will be ok.  They will need about 48 hours to see if the circulation will return to the thumb.  I am thankful for good friends and family who all lifted John in their prayers.  And, I guess it is good that Justin will be all right as well.  But, Kayla.  I don't know about.  I don't know if she will ever change, if she will ever grow up and just think about what she is doing BEFORE she does it.  But, I cannot worry about that.   

It has been less than two hours since I got the news.  My 11 year old "little man" nephew, John, had been injured on the farm.  He had severed part of his left thumb and was being air-lifted to Ohio State University Hospital to try to have it re-attached. 

John is so very special.  He is well-behaved, polite, considerate and has more manners than most adults.  Two weeks ago, I went to a ballgame in Charleston with my brother Petie (everyone else has started calling him Pete), my sister-in-law Laura and John.  When they were dropping me off at my house, the car was barely stopped and John was unbuckling from the seat beside me.   "Dad, I'll be right back, I am walking Aunt Pammy to her door."  I was taken aback a little.  Then I thought, well, shouldn't be surprised.  He is so sweet.  He would think to do that without being told.  We went up my short walk and he held the storm door as I unlocked the other door.  I turned gave him a big hug and kiss.  "I love you Aunt Pam."   "I love you, too, John."  I began calling friends to brag on what a little gentlemen he had just been.

And now, here he is, hurt.  He and a friend were on the 'gator', John had been doing his chores and was starting back in the lane to the barn.  He was driving slowly and leaned down to reach his puppy's leash.  It somehow went under the tire and it happened so fast, that is all John can tell his Mom.  He ran, literally out of his shoes, to his Mom, who was washing her car in the driveway.  Laura is a Registered Nurse.  She quickly packed it in ice and took off with John to the nearest emergency room, nearly 15 miles away.  They assessed the damage and recommended that he be taken by helicopter to Ohio State University Hospital, where the chances of re-attaching it were much better.  Laura called my sister Julie.  Petie, as soon as Laura called him on her way to the hospital, had to drive from the Buffalo Ballfields where Anna's travel team was in a tournament.   He was 40 minutes or so from the hospital. 

My brother arrived before the helicopter was ready to leave.  As soon as Petie got there, Julie and Laura started the 2 1/2 hour drive to Columbus.  John was scared anyway and now he had to ride this helicopter without his mom or dad with him.  The weight restrictions would not allow anyone else aboard.    But, Petie reported that John had pulled himself together and was being brave and waved to his Dad as the helicopter lifted up and into the air.    Petie headed back to the ballfield where Anna was.  Accidents can happen there, too.  I am sure my brother was torn about that decision.  Knowing the chances of anything happening to Anna were slim to none....yet....who knows for sure.  We are all waiting for Julie or Laura to call with the results of the surgery.  Jules (our nickname for Julie)  said the pre-op nurses told them that he had been the little trooper.   That he explained that he needed his left thumb to go in his catchers mit.  He had just made the little league All-Star team for his age group.  Their first game is tomorrow. 

I know his teammates will miss him at their first game, but we are all so thankful that he did not have life-threatening injuries.  He is a strong little boy with a great attitude and however this turns out....he will learn to deal with it.  He will adapt, improvise, and overcome.  He will do whatever it takes to be the best John he can be.  I am confident of that. 

There are just some things that are  hard to talk about.   Things that make you feel you have failed.   Things that are part of the fabric of your life and you wish this was on the  inseam...so no one could see.  Say, for example, when you realize what you have suspected for years, that  your 25 year old daughter has grown into a selfish adult  with  no regard for your feelings.    It is times like these that make me question the wisdom of having a child...wondering if pets would have not been a far better choice for me.  Pets love you unconditionally,  they never argue or do hurtful things and if they reproduce there is ease in giving their offspring to another loving household.   Kids,  not so much.  In fact, it seems that if you don't have the 'greatest' relationship with your child then people look at you funny.  They **** their head a little sideways,  narrow their eyes and stare at you like you just ripped the last chapter out of the Bible.    You can hear them thinking to themselves, hell, you can read it on their faces,  "Is this woman absolutely the worst mother in the world, or what."  "She probably doesn't deserve to have a healthy child."  "Oh my God,  did you hear what she just said?!"  I have seen all the looks.  I have heard all the shocked responses.  I have listened to words of encouragement.  ""She'll grow up one of these days."  (yea, been thinking that for a while now)  "Surely, it's not that bad?"  (yes, yes it is) or "I'm sure you must be exaggerating."  (I WISH I were.)  But, it is what it is.

This is an ongoing process with me.  My daughter and I.  It is just that I have a new way of looking at things after the heart attack.   I feel more.  I observe closer.  I have had to eliminate stress from my everyday routine.  She cannot call four times a day, giving the blow by blow of her crisis of the hour to what is earth-shattering at the time and by nightfall is nothing but a blip on her radar screen....and I am the one losing sleep.  Those conversations served no purpose but to keep my nerves raw and my mind racing.  Constant turmoil is no longer the word of the day in my life.  She has been told that.  

Since the life went out of her daddy, she has been pretty much my constant worry.  For years now this has gone on and the heart attack told me it had to stop.  I had figured that out, but had not figured a way to get the message across to her...my heart and my sisters did it for me .  Believe me, there are lots of times I have been **** at Sonny for dying and leaving this mess in my lap,  because he created this monster.  Most of our arguments during our marriage were about raising Kayla.  He was a riverboat Captain.  He was gone from home on the boat for 21 days at a time and then enjoyed 21 days at home.  And he did not want to be the bad guy when he got off the boat .  He wanted to be DisneyDad...he spoiled her terribly.  He laughed off actions and attitudes that would later become bad habits.  She never wanted for anything...he bought it before she wanted it.   I insisted that there were rules and routines and he didn't.  He rarely backed me up on any issue.  She really does have more of his genes than mine.  Now that I have stopped blaming myself for the way she is and the things she does,  I have grudgingly admitted that she just didn't get her share of the Sommer genes.  I will not beat myself up over that anymore.    You'd think that last month she would have given some real consideration to the fact that she could have become an orphan.  I thought that would resonate in her head somewhere.  But even though she sometimes talks a good game,  I have finally admitted to myself that she is selfish.   It is always all about her. 

Not anymore.  My heart told me several things that day.  Foremost, if you don't take care of yourself, no one is going to do it for you.   Not just eating right and exercising, but stress management and displacing yourself from situations that are harmful, both physically and mentally.   I am my first priority now.  I have to control the food and exercise I get daily.   Just as importantly, I have to control the amount of crap I am willing to listen to or deal with.  And sadly, with Kayla, I don't want to deal with any of it anymore.    My sisters had a heart to heart with Kayla a few days after the heart attack.  I was still in CICU.  They later told me that they gave her new rules.  She is not to call her Mother and ask for anything.  She is not to call me with anything except good news.  If she does call, she is to inquire about my health, tell me to have a nice day and go on about her business.   If I could not cut the apron strings, then they were there doing it for me.  They were tired of watching her use me.  Seeing me working two jobs to keep body and soul together and still sacrificing for her.     I didn't hear from her for two weeks.    I slowly realized, it really is all about her.  I realized that everytime I would feel embarassment of things she would do, my family wasn't blaming me.  I was.  I thought somehow it was totally  my fault that this adult was not the kind of person I would ever have imagined my baby girl all those years ago. 

So, now I feel as though I am moving to the acceptance step of all of this.  Accepting that she is who she is and I cannot change that now.  Accepting that I am not 100% to blame for "how she is".   Accepting that I love her, but there are times when I don't like her much.  Accepting that she feels a lot of things toward me that I cannot control or change.  All I can do is keep loving her.  Praying that as she matures, she will learn some of life's lessons along the way.   And that every one of them won't have to be learned the hardest way possible.   Accepting that I am only 54 years old and should have a life of my own.  Accepting that I am not required to circle my world around hers.   Accepting that not all mother/daughter relationships are happy stories that make the cover of Good Housekeeping.   Accepting that I may not get to be the Grama I always wanted to be.  Accepting that I may not be given that opportunity.   It is what it is; and I am accepting it for just that.  Accepting, graciously, the gift of a second chance at life and it will be a more serene one.  And from this day forward....just taking it one day at a time and living it and being thankful for it.

I'm going to visit my cousin, Kessach, today.  Actually, she is my second cousin; daughter of Zadia, the oldest living of the sixteen first cousins of the Sommer (Dad's) side of my family.  We lost Cyndee, the oldest,  in 2005, I think it was, to a stroke.  Two of the boys, Gordon and Jim, both Vietnam veterans, are gone.  Gordie killed in a auto accident, Christmas Day, 1995 while driving to my house.  Jim had health issues he did not always share with us.   We believe he had cancer, but just wouldn't tell us.  He died the same year as Sonny, 2002, only at the end of the year, in November. 

Kessach is only  12 years younger than me.  ZeeZee, as we called Zadia as kids, would babysit my older sister and I when she was in high school.  She drove us the 12 miles to town, always in my Mother's 1960 Ford,  for swimming lessons at the town pool.  She taught us to dance every Saturday  watching **** Clark's American Bandstand.  She is funny and spontaneous.  She was selected Most Humorous of her graduating class of 1963.  I would earn the same honor when I graduated ten years later.  She ran errands for my Mother and Dad.   If a piece of machinery on the farm broke and Dad needed a part from town, he would get ZeeZee to run to town and Georgianna and I would almost always get to ride along.  She was an older sister figure to us.  Her daughter,  Kessach, now 42, and I have always been close.

When I got out of school and took a job in Huntington, it was near where Zadia and Grover were raising their family.   I moved in with them for a few weeks until I could apartment hunt for something of my own.  It was a great experience.  Sis, as we call sometimes call Kessach, was so cute and bubbly.  Easy to be around.  Her brother Chans, then 5, remembers me always reminding him to say 'please' and 'thank-you'.    And over the years, Sis and I have stayed close.   We may not be able to get together as often as we would like, but when we do, it is as if the conversation just picked up where we left off weeks ago. 

We saw each other at Anna and Emily's graduation party the week after my heart attack.  We hugged.  We cried from happiness that I was still alive!  Zadia was in on the group hug, all of us laughing through our tears.  Sis and I promised we would get together soon and today we are!  I am really looking forward to one on one time with her. 

Being so scared that I would die, feeling that this really could be it, has made me re-prioritize.  To rethink some things in my life and how I approach some issues.    The only item in the 'family' category is to MAKE time.  We are all so busy.  Everyone has their own lives and hobbies and activities.  Since I have all this recup time on my hands now and the doctor has said I could drive, no restrictions, I am taking advantage of the TIME I have.  Sis and I emailed back and forth through the week and today is her day off work, "please come Saturday!".  "I'll be there!"   And I will.    I did tell her I would not call at the crack of dawn. I'd let her snooze in a bit.  So I am waiting until I think it is late enough.  Well, my god, it's 8:30am already....everyone should be up by now!!  Burning daylight.   But, I told myself at 5:50 this morning when I woke up,  I would have to wait until at least 9:30-10.  If I were not keeping my hands busy with this, I would have to sit on my hands to keep from calling!!   Oh, well, time for  me to get out of my jammies, too.  A nice shower and get ready for my day. 

My new theme song You Find Out Who Your Friends Are", is playing.  I stop to listen. And I begin recalling those that have proven to be friends over the past, hummm, almost a  month, after my heart attack.   

Allen and Peggy are friends.  They own the Riverside Cafe that is across the river from where I live.  Just up the road about 2 miles, cross the bridge, downriver less than a mile.  The restaurant they opened   recently is at the location of a long time favorite 'watering hole' for many.  I first discovered what was then called Silkey's, about 15 years ago.  I had transferred from one post office to another in the neighboring county.   In was a comfortable twenty minute drive home, no detours required.  Over the years, I made many acquaintances and a few friends.  It was the community kind of place to go.  There were constructions workers, lawyers, electricians, CPA,s, carpenters, iron-workers, farmers, regional managers, insurance salesmen, politicians, the maillady!    The perfect bar! 

A close friend had delivered the news the day after when he had gotten word.  A card was bought, and everyone signed it.  It cheered me!  But after a week in the hospital, a week recuperating at the farm with Mother (until she felt comfortable with me being alone and me whining I wanted my own bed)   I was home and out and about a little.

After the first day of cardiac rehab, I stopped by for a good unsweetened iced tea.    It was a wonderful "homecoming". Rosey ran from behind the bar to give me the biggest hug!  Melinda in the kitchen heard the commotion.  Another big hug!  A few other people that I know greeted me warmly and I responded  with hugs all around.  "So good to see you", they all said.   "Not near as good as seeing you!" I would answer.  We laughed, I told my story.  It was all good.

Not long after the excitement of my arrival!  Allen came it.  I got the big hug and interested concern.  Anyone who knows me knows: I have no insurance, no disability, no work-no pay.  He excused himself to attend to a supply salesman.  I went home shortly after.   I had had a big day!! 

I had been home about an hour when my phone rang.  It was Allen.  He said again how good it was to see me today.  He lamented, " I have known you for years, Pam!  I was pretty freaked out and shocked getting the news."  "Yea, I know what you mean, so was I", I laughed.   He then asked, "Can we do something for you?". His tone was that I sensed that he already had something in mind.  "What do you mean, Allen?"  I was beginning to get choked up.  "Will you please come over here and eat?  Just come whenever you need to... once, twice a day....whatever you need."  I felt the tears spring to my eyes, over-flowing to run down my face.  The phone went silent.  We had lost our connection somehow.  Less than a couple of minutes later, giving me time to compose myself and take in what he had just offered, the phone rang again.  "I drove through a dead spot and lost you, sorry. And to finish what I was saying, it goes on  my tab."   "I, we, want to do this for you."   What could I do?  I had just found out who one of my friends were.  I graciously thanked him and said I would see him soon. 

I have kept track of how many times I have been there so far.  I don't think Allen is.  I will not take advantage of this generous outpouring of friendship, but I will go if I need to .  In this case, I have truly found out who my friends are.  And there are others....other stories for other days. 

I am a divorced widow.

Sonny and I were married for 22 years.  We divorced in February of 2001.  It was not a blood and guts divorce, we pretty much agreed to disagree.  Seven months later, 9-11, as I sat watching in horror the planes slamming into the World Trade Centers on the Today show, my phone rang.  It was Sonny.  His profession was riverboat Captain.  He was on the boat, but had been listening to the news. 

"Are you all right?"  It was the question of the day.  He and I were both stunned and shocked at what was happening in our country.  I know people everywhere were calling loved ones asking the same question. 

"yes, I am fine, have you talked to Kayla?"  Our daughter had just turned 18 and was living with him at the time.   "No, I called you first.  I will call her and call you right back."   He did.  I had to go on to work, but he called again that evening.  We reopened the lines of communication and over the next few weeks rekindled the spark that had been lost somehow over the past few years.

We quickly realized that the reasons for our divorce were not insurrmountable....that there were way bigger things to be concerned about.  I think a lot of people had realizations that day and ours was that we really did love each other enough to work through whatever problems we had.   

We dated.  We talked.  We laughed.    We didn't share our rekindled relationship with our families  yet.  We needed to make sure that we really were going to be ok.  We didn't want to have to explain things if we ultimately decided that we would remain apart.  But our daughter, Kayla, had figured it out.   She was really sure of it when two dozen roses, some red, some white were delivered to me on December 21.  Our anniversary.  Life was good again.  The holidays came and went, still without me going to his family celebration or he to mine.  The new year looked more promising than I could ever have imagined a few months before.

January was really strange, weather-wise.  We had a lot of warm days for West Virginia that year.  Early on the morning of January 31, he was going to pick up friends to play golf.  His truck went off the road, took out several fence posts and overturned, throwing him out.  He was dead at the scene.  He was either unconscious or already dead when his truck left the road.  There were no brake marks.  There was no where it appeared he had tried to correct the path he was taking.  He was gone.  My husband was gone.  

The next few days were a blur.  His family didn't believe Kayla that we had mended our fences.  They didn't believe me.  His Dad actually asked me to leave their house that day and never come back.   In their pain, they could not see mine.  They offered no sympathy to me.  "You are not his wife anymore."  I was devastated.  I had been part of their family for 22 years and that meant nothing to them?  I could not, still don't, understand.  They were so uncaring and unfeeling of my grief, so consumed with their own.  I went to the wake, but the family had met early to view his body and then had the casket closed.  So I could not see him.  They wouldn't let me say goodbye.  The next day his oldest son by a previous marriage actually refused to let me attend the funeral!!  I was turned away at the door.  My 18 year old daughter had to bury her Daddy without her Mother by her side.  It was horrible.  The funeral director let me in the back door to the office.  There I sat with Bev, my best friend, and listened to the service over the speaker system.  I could hear my baby girl sobbing.  I could not go to comfort her.  I was beside myself.  After the service, as they were loading the flowers into the van and carrying Sonny to the hearse, one of his brothers saw me at the back of the building.  He made a point to tell me to not go to the cemetery, they would call the police!!  I was stunned once again.  It was if he just punched me in the gut.  I nearly collapsed to the ground, but my uncle caught me and help steady me.  It was unbelievable.  I was living a nightmare.  All of my family  had loved Sonny and they  were there.  They were stunned speechless.  None of them could believe that these people could be so cruel.    But it was real.  It was all so horribly real.     My family rallied around me and took me home.   They didn't feel welcome to go to the cemetary either.  Thank God for my family.  We remembered our good times with Sonny at the farm that day and still talk about him, keeping his memory alive for the younger ones who thought Uncle Sonny was the coolest ever! 

I have had no contact with that family since then.  Why would I expose myself to people treating me that way?  And not one of them has ever tried to contact me.  They apparently didn't reconsider what they were feeling on that day.  They did not care about me.   Since then, both of his parents have passed.  On each of those occasions, I struggled with knowing I could not go and pay my respects.   But they had made clear their feelings on that Super Bowl Sunday in 2002 when Sonny was laid to rest.     I was not going to compound their grief of losing their parents for my little bit of peace of mind.  I sent a prayer their way and tried not to feel guilty.  I wondered if they had someone posted at the door to keep me away if I had tried to go...but I didn't test that.   It would have served no purpose. 

I am a divorced widow.