Rushing's Ramblings

  It is almost seven years since his death, and he’s still in my head and heart. The expectation of happily celebrating the holidays with friends and family sometimes reminds us of who we’re missing, which would complete that picture-perfect scenario. Jack was the great love of my life. We traveled the world and loved every minute of our time together except when his grown-ass children or the bottle interfered. Jack was the most brilliant person I have ever met and the only man to express his undying love for me and show it in many ways. The feeling was mutual. We lived in a beautiful two-story house overlooking the Intracoastal and ocean in Ft Lauderdale. Even though he wanted me to retire, I continued to work. I instinctively knew that my financial independence was more important than any destinations I might miss because of my job. Fortunately, I was able to take time off to travel frequently. Jack was wealthy and financially supported his five children, who were over 40. He once t

  The scariness of our death isn't quite as acute when we're older because most of us have accepted that it's inevitable. As the years pass, losing friends and family becomes a regular occurrence. But the death of those closest to you is brutal, especially when they are part of your daily life.   My friends fall on a spectrum of sorts. I share my deepest, darkest thoughts with a couple of close friends, and they love me despite my flaws. I'm grateful for all the friends in my life, as I understand that I'm not everyone's cup of tea.    Two very dear friends, Luni and Larry, died this year. Their loss is something I'll never "get over," even though I'm grateful they were in my life for many years. Our frequent conversations are no more, and I'll never look into their beautiful, loving, sweet faces again.   The hole in our soul when we've lost someone close never heals, but it does make us realize that we should hang on tightly to our lov