Thursday, October 22, 2015


Our wedding. February 28, 1980. I was 33, David, my youngest stepson, was 17, and Ken was 41.

It has been a hell of a week. And my thoughts have returned to "what if?" What if I had not met this man, fallen in love, and become a step mother? My life would have been radically different, driven by a career. Very possibly I would have moved with Time Life Books to Virginia. And I would not have become a grandmother.

We all make choices in life, and our roads veer one way or another due to those choices. Do I regret them? No, not really. You can't know the joys unless you've had some sorrow, the highs are not as high if there are no lows. Cliches, yes, but they happen to be true.

But damn, the road is getting rough in my declining years. I am stronger now, more resilient for sure, but that doesn't mean my heart doesn't ache. I thought losing my husband to cancer would be the hardest thing I ever faced. I was wrong. Watching a life being thrown away by a grandchild is worse. And I find myself asking over and over, what would Ken have done? Am I doing what WE would have done together as a couple? The answer is yes.

For those suffering from depression, there is always help. For those with addictions, help is a phone call away. But when the hands from people who love you are batted away with scorn, it becomes time for tough love.

Tough love it is.

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