Can't help it

Today is the day before the 1st anniversary of his death. So I went through my files and decided to look at as many photos of the ol' coot I could find.

The photos make me smile and recall with tenderness, what we had. Because now all I have are the memories and the constant ache of missing him. That is okay. It only means our love was that strong.
So, sorry, I couldn't help it, I felt compelled to make this post today.

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Our Wedding Photo. It seems like only yesterday. Yes, we were married on our mules with our kids there. Jer is the one on the right holding onto Billy-Bob's halter, in the middle is Rich's daughter, Stephanie. On the left is my oldest son, Eddie.

I designed a veil to go on my cowboy hat. We still have those matching saddles and saddle pads. The mules are long gone and the kids are 30 yrs older.

I was so damned happy with this guy.

This next shot was when he was in hospital after having a TIA during chemo and radiation. The left side of his face has no hair as the radiation killed it.

He was hamming it up for me just before the doctors came in to speak to us. 

Another out of order photo. 

Here, Rich meets his last grand daughter. She was only 6 months old. Meeting her meant to much to him as he knew he'd not be around to see her grow up. This was about 2 years ago.

Here is another of my all time favorite shots of him below.

I got him a chrome book so he could look at hound dawgs, mules, horses, and various other things as well as read articles. He found me the perfect hound dog in Georgia for $50. A coon hound who only treed 'possum. 

He was being serious here for a moment before he started to laugh. This was his professor look.

Fishing was another thing he loved to do. He loved it even when no fish were caught or we had to throw them back in. He taught me how to fish. Of course, I always had my pocket camera along.

He loved his hound dogs. His grandfather had Black and Tans. Rich raised champion Red Ticks and competed with them.

Later on, he switched back to Black and Tan hounds. We raised and trained so many of them. Here I convinced him to go for a winter walk with his newest pup. Dottie.

My next all time favorite. Hubby with his new pup Queen. She actually became my dog and hiked the forests with me. This is when he was most relaxed. Dogs, especially hounds had his heart.

This was taken in the first year of our marriage. Rich was showing one of our mule foals in Iowa. He cleaned up well. It was typical to see him with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth until he quit in 2000.

This was in 2010 I think. One of the many times he was admitted to the Mental Health floor to be evaluated and updated on his meds. His son in law and daughter came and the joy is evident on his face at being able to visit with his grands. 
The Mental Health floor no longer allows patients to sit outside the hospital, the ward is locked and there is a visiting room. 

Here he is in 1997, I just got home from work to find out that he had actually done some yard work. This is the look I got every time I got home. 

Every single time. Even if I'd just gone out to hang laundry, I'd come back inside to this smile.

We had something so rare.

This is the guy that touched my soul and made me who I am today.

He enchanted me. He was difficult, he was easy, he was complicated. He was

Rich

The photos are out of order and they are just glimpses of my favorite person to photograph.

I have photos of him giving me the finger too ... before he had his morning coffee.

His first marriage was something of a disaster. Vietnam Vet coming home. He wished to be normal, so married the first female he courted. Had a baby tried to be a father who was haunted by demons of war.

He tried so hard to 'get' better but it never really happened. We had good days, so many wonderful and magical days together.

Our story was amazing. The 'Crazy' Vietnam Vet and the Crazy Gal he met.

This is our last photo together. We didn't know it at the time but it would be the last day he'd be able to sit up in his wheel chair.

One of the Hospice workers told me to take selfies with him. I'm glad I did. I still see the glint of a smile in those eyes. 

Rich: My heart hurts today but it means I still miss you. So that is okay. 

The world did not stop when you died. I thought it would. It felt like it. 

I couldn't believe that the sun came up the next day and the world moved on.

Miss you.

The Cowboy way

 Hi there. 

I thought I'd better check in with you. I don't know how this happened, but I am getting into my old groove again. By that, I mean I am doing sociable things. Hiking, riding, going out for coffee, joining a photography club, and learning to be alive again.

But every time I turn around, I find some wonderful memory popping up. 

You were standing next to the horse trailer with my mare, Cheyanne, saddled up and waiting. Your mule, Fred, was tied up next to her.

In your hand you had a cold beer waiting for me. You were casually leaning against your mule with a crooked grin on your face. 

I knew then as a 'newlywed' that I had died and ended up in marital heaven. 

You laughed and told me to grab my boots. We were going riding. I sipped the cold beer as we rode out.

Forget supper, this was cowboy romance.

The evening sun was pleasant. We rode through the neighbor's pasture gate and past the herd of beef cattle.

We found a scrub apple tree and tied up our mounts. 

You tossed a your shirt on the pasture grass.

The sunset was amazing. We watched the moon rise as our mounts munched on grass. You blew clouds of smoke into the air and leaned in...

You can guess the rest. Cowboy courtin'.

I only have those memories now.

Tonight this one smacked me right in the face as I sat on Siera and watched the sun start to fade.

I blush, remembering it.

No, I haven't met anyone. Hannah is helping fill the big aching hole in my heart. Puppies. What can I say? She demands so much, it keeps me busy.

Charlie keeps me grounded. He keeps me on track.

The mules? 

They spark the memories of the cowboy-muleman romance. 

Tonight, while riding Siera in the forest, I felt something like joy. I felt my heart warm.

That engaging memory flowed through me.

I hadn't felt like that in years. I gasped and then smiled. 

My my cheeks turn red. I sensed your presence.

Somehow I am having a joyful week. I should feel sad or perhaps guilty. But I'm going to take the joy and embrace it.

The pain will hit again, but I'm smiling when I think of you and your cowboy ways.

And that shirt on the ground. 

I promise...

          I promise not to be sad every day that I can't talk with you. Every time I go hiking I notice things that we'd talk about when I got home.

Even when you were quite ill, you'd smile and ask me "How was your walk? What did you see?" Or "What did you do at the gym, how was your work out?"

We'd laugh together about my version of events while working out or hiking. 

Things like tripping on a rock and sitting on the ground and seeing something so beautiful that the rock must have said Trip Val! 

Make her see this amazing clump of tiny mushrooms hiding just off the trail.

The times I outran 'kids' 25 years younger than me while doing a gym workout. I'd come home and share that with you and you were so tickled. You'd laugh that deep loud laugh and slap your knee.

You'd wink at me and ask for more details.

I recall the trip I took to Hawaii as a chaperon for my 82 yr old father. I'd come back from taking Dad somewhere and the hotel desk told me to call home, it was urgent.

I called wondering what was wrong. You finally told me that you were standing by the wash machine and you didn't know how to run it. Hilariously, you ran out of clean jeans. I stood on a balcony overlooking the Pacific and gave you instructions on how to do laundry. 

Everyone thought that was such a funny and such a YOU story. The man who couldn't wash dishes or do laundry on his own.

Every time I walked out the door to go to work you were there. Every time I came home, you greeted me as enthusiastically as our dog did..

"How was your day? How was your shift? How was your walk? How was your ride?"

I never tired of telling you. You never stopped listening. 

So today I came home to Charlie and spoke to you even though you physically were not here.

I told you about my class, about shopping, and about everything I could think of. 

I held your picture and relayed all the things you needed to know. I even asked your opinion on what was for supper. I joked that you wouldn't like the broccoli and cauliflower but I was making it anyway.

They might send me to the nuthouse one day if anyone knows how often I talk to you. Charlie is a good listener, but he tends to get distracted easily.

Today was okay. I miss you. I'm glad we agreed that you wouldn't eat broccoli and cauliflower with your chicken. More for me.

See yah.

It doesn't quite end until...

 ...the Fat Lady Sings.

No pictures. 

But we had the not-funeral funeral-celebration of Life.

It was comforting and really quite nice. One of Rich's hunting buddies from 25 years ago came up to me and held my hand as he re-introduced himself. 

I recalled him and the hunting dog he sold Rich that ended up being my dog. Tom. Tom was the name of the hound. 

Gary held my hand and we relived our hunting days and how much we enjoyed being out at night and listening to the hounds sing their treeing songs. If you ever saw the movie Where the Red Fern Grows, that was us. Hunting and loving our hounds.

The photos that went across the big screen kept a lot of folks entranced. I took so many photos of Rich over the years, what can I say, he was a great model.

Surprising that friends from Missouri came with their kids. I nearly lost it then. A girlfriend that I'd befriended in 6th grade came too. That blew my mind too. I felt the love and friendship with Rich's pals and my friends that came. It was comforting and just what I needed. 

I knew he meant something to a lot of people even if he never thought he did.

Steve, our good pal was there too. He and Dennis [my grandson via my stepdaughter] went off to talk fishing. Steve invited Dennis to go fishing with him next weekend on a special float on the Mississippi. I'm tickled as Rich always wanted to mentor Dennis in the ways of fishing and hunting. Now Steve, who is still reeling from Rich's death has found a way to pass on his knowledge to yet another generation.

How lucky can a grandma get? Dennis will come next Friday evening and then spend time with Steve learning and fishing.

After the cemetery, Ariel and Dennis came to the farm to spend time with me. They didn't travel with their parents so thought they'd come and just hang out  with me. They helped me move some old stuff out of the house and then asked if they could take me to supper. Their treat!

How on earth did I get this lucky to have grandkids that are so thoughtful?

My life going forward, will be held up to events like these and I'll realize that yes, Rich and I had something special and we passed it on to our grands [I hope].

I'll take it, one day at a time and keep recalling all of the joy my husband has given me.

One last note on family. Rich has a daughter and a very self centered sister. One of the relatives who happens to like me very much as I used to take her out to lunch once a month came up and whispered in my ear as she hugged me.

"Watch your back. If they don't get what they want they said there will be War."

Her eyes slid over to my stepdaughter and her husband as she stepped back. 

And dearly beloved, I have no idea what that is supposed to even mean.

The story of Rich's time may have passed but it seems another story will unfold.

Hopefully, those that said that were blowing off steam or have no idea how the laws work for married couples. [Especially married couples who went to attorneys to make sure everything was in place in our estate.] One of the very reasons these days in a blended family to make future plans and write up a rock solid Estate Plan.

War, indeed. Bring it on. Apparently the step thinks I'm sitting on her husband's retirement goldmine and it should be theirs.