memories

May 26, 2026

As I’ve mentioned in a few other posts about this, a couple of days a year I write about my fiancee. May 26, 1984 was when I was going to get married. Beach. Rocky Point, Mexico. Sunset. It didn’t happen because we got the “until death do us part” and “I do” backwards.

So on May 26, I stop at sunset and commemorate what didn’t happen.

Today the clouds completely obscured the sun at sunset and it is likely to be as cloudy tomorrow, so I may not be able to see the sun as it sets. That’s okay. The memory is more important than the actual sunset.

Reminders…..

….that I’m getting old…..

Our daughter is engaged to be married. I remember, twenty-eight years ago, marveling at her; an infant just minutes old.

I now receive US Medicare medical insurance. This began in the month of my 65th birthday.

I “re-manufacture” firearms ammunition for myself. There are data books that provide the information needed to do this and new editions of the data books are typically published every 2-3 years. I decided to make some new ammunition for my target pistol and for some reason I checked the dates of the books. The latest one I own was printed in 1999.

My wife and I have been putting up more pictures that have been in storage. One of them was a (37 year old) wedding picture. In the picture, I have a full head of dark brown, almost black, hair and no “turkey waddle”. That is far different from now.

Another picture was of Pest, the cat that adopted me while I was earning my electrical engineering degree. That picture was over 40 years old.

I used to be able to do run 6 minute miles for 15 miles and carry on a limited conversation. That is no longer the case. I still run, but my times are far slower, my distances are far shorter and even at the slower pace, I can’t carry on a conversation.

And, finally……

ET (evil twin) called to complain about getting old. She’s younger, but at this point in our lives, I suppose those 20 minutes don’t really count. 🙂

On the plus side, I’m no longer a “wage slave”, so I can decide what projects I want to work on. Some “consulting work” is free, some is paid, but all are very fulfilling.

November 24

I’ve been cleaning the house in preparation for friends coming over for Thanksgiving dinner. It is raining outside, which means lots of mud and dirt is being brought into the house, and that means lots of effort to keep the dirt/mud out of the carpet.

Shortly after midnight on this date in 1983, my fiancee died. She had been undergoing a very brutal treatment regimen that ultimately was unsuccessful. When she “left”–the words the hospice nurses used–I was angry, frustrated, heart broken, confused and upset. I’m sure there were many other emotions swirling around in my mind as well.

After she died, I don’t think I ever went thorough a denial phase…before yes…after no. The anger also left fairly quickly, but the confusion and heartbreak lingered on for several years. The confusion was equal amounts of “What do I do now?” and “Why did our friends disappear?” The first part was answered by my promises to my fiancee to keep on living. The second part took a long time for me to decide on an answer. What I decided was that no one among our friends had dealt with someone their own age dying and didn’t know what to do or say, so they stayed away for fear of making things worse.

What got me out of this whole mess was three friends. I’m still in close contact with two, but I’ve lost contact with the third. At the time, in 1985, when I met all of them, I was desperately, and probably irrationally, afraid that the “don’t know what to say/do….disengage” would happen all over again, so it was many years before I told them about my fiancee. The other reason for not talking about it was that I was also afraid I’d “start crying in my beer”. So I kept quiet.

While time has healed my broken heart, like a repaired cup having a barely visible crack where the pieces were glued back together, my heart has a barely noticeable crack where the pieces were put back together. And, like the crack forever remaining visible on the cup, the faint crack will remain in my heart. I suppose this is good as it means I still remember. When people die, they live on in memories and only “completely die” when no one remembers them.

One of the people coming over for Thanksgiving is one of the three friends. I invited the other friend over as well, but she and her husband are preparing Thanksgiving dinner for her elderly parents. In the past year, both of her parents have had multiple extreme health issues, all with an extremely poor prognosis, and she is thinking that this may be the last Thanksgiving with them.

I understand.

3/4 Mile

This morning, as I was walking with the dogs, I turned around and counted the power line spans (the wire between two poles is a span). Twelve spans. Around here, that works out to be 3/4 mile, and we were only part way to the turn around point.

That got me to thinking about growing up. Because the school bus could (would?) not travel on dirt roads, my school bus stop was at the closest paved road, which was 3/4 mile distant.

The first time I walked to the bus stop, in first grade, I remember it being a somewhat scary (“What if I get lost?”) very long journey that seemed like it took forever. The walk home, while not so scary, was still a long journey that seemed like it took forever.

This morning, 58 years later, the 3/4 mile was hardly noticed.

I’m sure that someday 3/4 mile will again be a long journey that seems like it takes forever. Hopefully it won’t be scary and will be far into the future.

Odd Dream

I woke up around 3am to a heavy rain.

For about 10 seconds, I thought I was waking up from dreaming I was old and that I was really back at university in my late teens.

Once the disorientation ended, I realized things were the opposite; I really was old and was dreaming that I was young.

I suppose it’s due to me recently applying for USA’s Medicare medical insurance that one becomes eligible for at age 65.

I suppose it’s also that when I ran the day before yesterday, my pace was around 10 minutes per mile and the entire time, I felt like I should be looking for a person with an oxygen tank. In my late teens, I could run 10-15 miles at a 6 minute per mile pace and I could carry on a (limited) conversation.

I suppose it could be that it’s October and this is the month when my fiancee, in 1983, was recommended hospice by her oncologist.

I suppose it could be that it’s October and this is the month, in 2012, my wife finished her treatment for stage 3 breast cancer.

Peach Milkshake

The peaches are in season! So are the apricots, the plums, nectarines and strawberries! This is an awesome time of year.

But the peaches are the best and they are so juicy that I have to eat them while leaning over the kitchen sink or I have to eat them while outside. If I don’t do one or the other, I’m having to clean up the mess. It’s great.

Way back when, probably 55 years ago, my grandmother would make peach milkshakes. I remember watching her do this. Peal the peach, cut it up into 4-5 large pieces and add it to the food blender. Then add 4-5 scoops of vanilla ice cream. Then blend it. I remember her telling me to blend it first so that one could decide how much milk to add and that sometimes no milk would be needed if the peaches were “super juicy”.

That’s what I remembered. I tried it today and it worked. I had to add about 2 tablespoons of milk to get the shake like I wanted.

The blender we have is quite good, if somewhat difficult to clean, and it only took about 15 seconds to have everything blended together.

I’m now relaxing with a full stomach, tasting a lingering peach flavor in my mouth, and a smile on my face.

Thank you, Grandma for showing me how to make peach milkshakes. I sure I could have found a “recipe” on the internet, but remembering my grandmother, and how she did it, is far better.

Why Did I Suddenly Remember This?

I don’t know what made me remember this probably 4th grade elementary school “song”, done to the tune of “When Johnie Comes Marching Home”. My 4th grade school year was almost 55 years ago and I have no idea who “wrote” this. If I did, I’d give them credit……

We’re taking the 502 tonight. Hurrah Hurrah.
We’re taking the 502 tonight. Hurrah Hurrah.

We’re on the train with a special car,
the one that features a stand up bar
and the drinks will flow when we take the 502.

We’re leaving the 502 tonight. Hurrah Hurrah.
Our wives will see us and how they’ll swear
they’ll call us drunkards but we won’t care
because we feel no pain when we leave the 502.

Note. Way back when, driving while intoxicated was a violation of California Vehicle Code, section 502.

May 26. 41 Years Later

May 26 is one of the days that I dwell on my fiancee for a bit around sunset.

In 1984, May 26 was a Saturday. I was supposed to get married that day. It didn’t happen. Death had called off the marriage. My fiancee was there too. Sort of. She, or rather her cremated remains, were in a plastic bag in what reminded me of a large shoe box.

At sunset I walked out into the surf and scattered her ashes….and then got VERY drunk.

All the while she was in hospice, she kept making me promise that I’d continue on with my life and “find someone else”. She was more concerned about me than herself. I guess she already knew her future but was afraid for mine. I guess that’s love.

I did find someone else. It took almost six years. My marriage has been a wonderful, amazing, sometimes frightening, 36 years and my time with my fiancee helped me be a good husband.

My wife fills nearly all of my heart. There is a small corner of it where, even after more than 41 years, my fiancee dwells.

Last night my wife got out a dutch oven to cook some squash. It is the same dutch oven that was given to me by my fiancee. My wife saw me looking at it and hugged me, “You remember. That’s good. I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Parallels

Tonight my wife “streamed” the movie “The Art of Racing in the Rain”. It is both a sad, and uplifting movie that I managed to watch in its entirety.

The movie starts out with a very old, and unable to stand, Golden Retriever Dog named Enzo telling of his life with an aspiring race car driver named Denny. The implication is that Enzo’s life is “winding down”.

Our dog, Frankie is now almost 15 years old and while he is still enjoying life, I can tell his life is starting to “wind down”.

In the movie Denny meets Eve. They get married and have a daughter named Zoe but several years later, Eve dies after an unsuccessful treatment for brain cancer. Eve’s father, always having disapproved of Denny and his auto racing, goes to court to try to gain legal custody of now 9 or 10 year old Zoe. This is ultimately unsuccessful when Eve’s mother contradicts the testimony made by Eve’s father.

My fiancee died of ovarian cancer. While her father was great, her mother was, pardon the expression, a total bitch toward the two of us. I never understood how such a wonderful man could have ended up with such a woman.

After Eve’s death, a now middle aged Enzo finds a knit cap that was worn by Eve and cuddles up with it

My fiancee stayed at my home during the cancer treatment and to help us, my neighbor gave us a blanket that she had made as a wedding present. The blanket went to hospice and after I brought it home, Pest (cat) laid on that blanket for nearly a month.

So many parallels…..