She died on a Tuesday. The woman who I had loved for the last twenty-five years. We gave each other the best and valuable moments of our lives. The day her father walked her down the aisle, her beauty overwhelmed me as I stood at the altar. Her white dress and infectious smile brought both joy and fear to my heart. She would be the woman that I would grow a family with and spend over half of my story.
When she left, I didn’t cry immediately. It was sudden, but my love’s passing gave me some peace in my world. It wasn’t because we didn’t love each other or because our marriage was in trouble. Her death brought my world and career to a screeching halt. I was okay with that. I focused my energies on consoling our children as our son had just had our first grandchild and our daughter entered her first year of college.
With my career on hold and my personal life nonexistent, I relaxed in my office in the house my wife and I built nearly five years before her death. Most of my days while I was home from the road, I spent in this oversized shrine to me and my childhood. My lair was a space designed and customized for me. Despite that, my partner-in-crime and I wasted many hours cuddling and sharing in this space. I still sat in there every week and challenged my son to simulation basketball games like normal when he was present, in college, or in his newly built house ten miles away while I put my career on the back burner.
Be A Man Universe 