They Loved Each Other Quickly: then in the morning he was gone;

With the sudden, unexpected loss of my mother’s partner in the early hours of this morning, I have been forced to step back and reconsider the frailty of life.  Even with the occasional tension between the two of us (perhaps for the competition for my mother’s attentions) and my distaste for some of his mannerisms, he took wonderful care of my mother over their too-short chapter.  He was a good man.

I had just seen him on Monday.  Apart from the normal ailments of a man in his 60’s (and even lesser, given his rigorously physical work-life) and those of a smoking man whom would have benefited from a healthier lifestyle (that my mother tried to give to him), he had no complaints.  I suppose what I mean to say is, even with the cigarettes and lackluster food-choices, he showed no overt signs of heart disease or extraordinary issues with his lungs (for instance, like my own father’s emphysema).

And yet still

last night he closed his eyes

and this morning he was no longer;

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Let’s talk about pride for a minute —

My husband is a proud man.  He is Italian, and – as much as I hate sweeping generalizations – passion and pride are at the top of my list of characteristics of your average Italian (man).  While I do mean passion in the romantic or sexual sense, I also mean in all aspects of their lives.

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The Bartender Therapist: or, a harem forming about me

I happen to have lots of problems.  I don’t know if it’s because of this or in lieu of this, but I seem to gather about me women with just as many issues.  Whereas my problems are continuous – and generally kept under wraps – it seems like their lives, on sporadic occasion, blow up in their faces.

All at the same time.

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