ODDBALLS – MY HUSBAND AND OTHER CREATURES – Marilyn Armstrong

Cee’s Odd Ball Photo Challenge: July 1, 2018

I got a new camera. Having given my favorite camera to Garry, I realized I need at least one long lens. After a lot of checking, it turned out to be far less expensive to get a whole camera than a long lens for the Olympus. The Olympus lens is not only more expensive, it was also much slower. And, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t use it much, either.

Testing, testing …

I bowed to reality. Fortunately, the price on the camera I wanted had dropped by half since I last looked at it. This probably means Panasonic is going to make this model obsolete and introduce another which will cost more, but not necessarily be better — or even as good  — as this one. I have lost faith in new models as improvements over earlier versions.

It was really hot today. Humid, too. Normally I’d have “gone out” to shoot with the new camera, but at 100 degrees (37.8 for your metric folks) and nearly 100% humidity, it felt like hot soup outside. I took a few garden shots, then went back inside for the air conditioning. I don’t like winter, but I really hate hot and humid.

It’s the Duke!

This heat won’t last long. Less than a week, then it will cool down. For the beach bunnies, this is perfect weather for a long holiday weekend. I burn easily and heat stroke is my favorite warm weather activity, so I’m happy in the A/C. Garry claims to love hot weather, but I notice he’s not outside, either. I think when you reach our age, extremes in temperature are unhealthy.

Sleep baby sleep …

Just saying.

Strawberry Jam in Springtime

I was 46 years old when my homemade strawberry preserves jelled properly. Probably what broke the barrier was overcoming a longstanding aversion to putting sufficient sugar in the mix. Alternatively, I could have solved the problem by adding tapioca starch or pectin, but I’m a a bit of a food snob. I wanted my preserves made of just fruit and sugar.

The day the preserves came out perfectly was the day my first husband finally died. He had been dying for a long time. It was a Friday, a rare brilliant spring day in New England. Jeff had been sick for almost a year, in what we politely called a coma, but which was actually a vegetative state. Now gone. I had not come to terms with it though I’d certainly had plenty of time. Probably no amount of time would have been enough.

Other than Jeff’s dying, it was a good time. Garry and I were happy. We were good together, busy with career and friends. Yet there was that underlying sadness we could not avoid, the knowledge that a death was near at hand.  Happiness and sadness don’t cancel one another. The good things are not a balance against pain. Feelings aren’t an equation. You can’t add columns of positive and negatives in your life and come up with a number in the middle. In the real world, joy and misery cohabit. We live with both together. Emotions are messy.

My head was a wheel of memories, a slide show carousel. Faces, places, good years, bad. Bittersweet, sad, joyous, funny. Strawberry jam that never jelled.

I married Jeffrey at 18 and thought myself very mature. He was almost 30, but he thought me very mature too. Both of us were wrong.  Yet we muddled through. We were hard triers. When we had no idea what to do, we faked it.  Eventually, we became the people we had long pretended to be and it turned out, not the people we needed to be for each other.

Though we went in different directions, we stayed friends. No matter where on Earth I was, I knew Jeffrey was there for me. We had a better divorce than most marriages. Decades passed. Jeff’s health deteriorated. He survived things that should have killed him, so what a shock he should die of the thing that was to extend his life. The heart surgery should have given him years, decades.  When Sue called late on an August evening reality upended and everything screeched to a halt.  No, his body wasn’t dead, but his brain was. The future world would be without Jeff. I would never call to tell him something funny that happened, hear his  sarcastic, drawling response.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Someone rewrote the script when our backs were turned.

Fall passed and winter too. Jeff remained in a vegetative state. Someone who looked just like him was wearing his body and that shell remained alive through the seasons. We visited. I stayed for weeks to help care for him. Finally, as spring was nearly summer, the piper played. And now, the ashes were scattered.

Just the other day, Garry glimpsed a someone in a crowd who looked just like Jeff.

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Happy – Bonnie, Autumn, Light, Love, Things Ancient and Modern