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Sunday, September 27, 2009

this is my story

We were married 33 years, 11 months and 6 days when he died. They were not all wonderful years; we had some difficult times. After we got thru the bypass surgery in November 1999, and he finally fully recovered in January 2000, things on the whole were good. The last few years were perfect. We had found a rhythm, and I enjoyed everything we did together - even the little errands, watching some awful science fiction movie, supermarket shopping. He had definitely come into himself, and was happier than I had ever seen him. The happiness was contagious, and he was so comforting when I was stressed. Ironic that the one guy who could make me calm down has left the planet.

We met in 1974, in a mall in Brooklyn. I had come home for the summer and was working at a gourmet food store. My main task was to call people over and try and sell them huge hunks of cheese that they didn't necessarily want or need. He used to watch me from the upper level of the mall where he sold shoes. One day he came in to the store and begin to flirt with me. I thought he was Spanish, he was so dark. He asked me out and although I was going back to school in Buffalo in a few weeks, I said yes.

It had been a particularly hard year for me. My first year away from home at college. I had gained the freshman 15, had a series of unhappy relationships with unfortunate guys and spent most of the summer being quite down in the dumps. I was excited about being asked out and thought it would be a diversion. I wasn't prepared to be wooed and wedded before the year was over.

So that was the start of my life-the beginning of my adulthood, my relationship with love, and marriage and motherhood. I did not know it when I met him but he would color my world for the next 33 years.

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