March 12 , 2001, was the day schizophrenia finally won the battle within the mind of my son, and the day my husband died as a result of that lost battle.
I purposefully waited until after that date to write this tribute to my late husband because that is also the day his sister tries to celebrate her birthday. A hard thing to do, I’m sure, as she has lost her entire family unit (grandpa, grandma, great-aunt, great-uncle, mother, father, and brother) with whom she spent her childhood years until she moved away to college and then marriage. Thankfully, God has given her a great second family although this year she has also lost a member of that as well: a wonderful, loving, caring father-in-law.
It has been ten years since my husband died. It seems like yesterday. I will write about him this week because he deserves to have things written about him, and I know others miss him as much as I do and are taking note, as I do, of the passing years without him.
James Joseph “Jimmie Joe” was younger than I was; someone I wouldn’t in a million and one years have ever dreamed I would one day marry. I suppose God had a different plan, or maybe He just took the circumstances James and I started and created something good, as only God can do.
James lived down the street from me. He was between girlfriends, I suppose, and I was going through a divorce. He would call and talk for a brief moment or stop and talk if he saw me out, and one day even knocked on my door. And tell you the truth, I’m still not sure how I finally said I would go out with him. But those first encounters eventually led to an actual date a few months later… and a marriage a couple of years later. It was a scandalous affair! We were the talk of our little town, and didn’t give a rip. The only thing I cared about and he cared about were our families and how they would handle it, what they would think. And I have to say, they were great sports even though I’m sure it was difficult to understand. After all, James and I were polar opposites.
Being polar opposites wasn’t enough to stand in the way of fate. At least that’s what James always said, “You may as well accept it; it’s fate.” There were lots of things he said, good things from a good man.
Tomorrow we’ll talk about that good man some more.