When she died, God took the real essence of what we were together and what we meant to one another and left me, the empty shell of a weak man, who is now alone, angry, depressed, and tired, too tired to care about anything else other than the misery that I feel with the loss of her. I don’t want to live without her, but I must. We have two kids. It’s funny how they’ll always be kids and I’ll always think of them as toddlers roaming the house and getting in trouble. It doesn’t matter that they are both married and have children of their own. They’ll always be babies to me. What would I have said that I didn’t say to her in forty years? Feeling sorry for myself instead of fully understanding what she was going through and what she was feeling, I probably would have said nothing. I probably would have held her hand and cried, as I do now when thinking about her. Instead of thinking of so many things that I could have said and wished I said to sooth her in her time of need, I remember. She knew what I was thinking about.We were both quiet for a moment. I was watching Tara and seeing the play of emotions across her face.After a moment I whispered to Tara, “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”Tara made her face go blank and said, “What?”I smiled at her to let her know that I could see straight through her. Then just in case she wasn’t reading smile language today, I spelled it out for her. “You’re as jumpy as a frog on steroids. It’s like you’re barely holding yourself together.”Tara tried to keep her blank face going and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”I snorted at her to let her know what I thought of that statement. She knew exactly what I was talking about.“You’ve been trying to hide it but I can see it as plain as day.”I tilted my head to one side and studied her for a moment.“Is this about whatever happened on Monday?”Tara’s face told me the answer to that question.“It really freaked you out, didn’t it? You were there and it.
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