Can I Ever Laugh Again, Love Again, Live Again

This is one story in a series of stories that tell about a backpack trip to Europe (and back) in the spring of 1976 by myself in an effort to run away from the pain of a broken heart. (To read from the beginning Google "The Ramblings of an Aging Baby Boomer" go to March 27, 2015, "I'll Never Find Love Again").

Tuesday, April 27, 1976 (In bed)

It's been a week since I left Luxembourg. I flew into New York and Mike and Lili picked me up at the airport. I stayed the night at their apartment, and the next morning I left for home. I bypassed Indy and drove straight to Evansville. It took me about 16-18 hours. I just had to know the answer. Did he no longer love me? Did he no longer want me?

I knocked on his door. I was trembling. As soon as he opened the door, I knew. He didn't grab me, hold on to me, hug me like he meant it, and say "I missed you so much. You are too dear to me, too precious for me to let you go." He stood stone still just inside the door; the answer was on his unsmiling face.

"Please, can I have another chance?" I said.  I wanted to say so much more. "I was confused. I love you more than anything. I know that now. It's you I want. If we set another wedding date, I promise I will go through with it. I won't back out." But I didn't say any of those things. I could tell it was useless. The answer was what I expected. "It's too late," he said and closed the door. I sobbed all the way back to Jack's house. He was very comforting. Then I came home. I took some of Mother's Valium and have been in bed ever since.

He does not want me any longer. Not only does he not want me, now he never, ever wants to see me again. I try desperately to understand how I could mean so little to him that he doesn't even care to see me again. Even passing acquaintances want to see one another occasionally. I don't understand. I don't see how I can continue on. I am a strong person and I can do anything I want, but the truth is I don't want to go on without him. How can I ever laugh again, love again, or live again.

THIRTY-NINE YEARS LATER

Monday, April 27, 2015

I just want to take a brief pause from telling my story, about losing the one and only love of my life and thinking my life was over,  to wish my son, Jason,  Happy Birthday.  He turns thirty-four-years-old today.

Jason, you are an amazing young man; you have surpassed

the highest expectations a mother could ever have for her child.

I love you more than words can express. You own my heart.

 Tomorrow's post: Fairy Tale Junkie