A PICTURE-PERFECT CHRISTMAS

 

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 told me that he felt guilty because he was rarely home when they were children due to the demands of his business, which also required international travel. We met not long after his wife of many years died from cancer. My appearance in their father’s life was very threatening to them. One of them told Jack they feared I would inherit his money should he die. For most of us, a statement like that from an offspring would end the handouts. He continued to give them money, and they did everything they could to make my life miserable. In hindsight, Jack resorted to drinking to help him push down guilty feelings and maybe the realization that he was being manipulated and used for his money.

Shortly after Thanksgiving ten years ago, I realized I could no longer compete with the bottle or endure his children’s shenanigans. If he had chosen to set boundaries with his children, there was still the issue of his alcoholism. I still loved him dearly and knew he loved me, but I lost hope of anything changing.

Jack had given me Paddy a few months before my departure, so I found a condo for Paddy and me close to my work and about 30 miles from Ft. Lauderdale. Jack and I continued to see each other occasionally, but it was never the same. A few years later, I retired and moved far from Florida. I had not been retired for very long when Jack told me he was diagnosed with cancer and had a bleak prognosis, but he was accepted into an immunotherapy trial in New York. He was better for a short time but started rapidly deteriorating. We made plans for Jack to come to Texas for a visit, but he became too sick to travel, and in the last few weeks of his life, he was unable to talk, eat or drink. I always hoped that somewhere, somehow, we would find each other again.

Today, I read our last emails to each other before his death. I was reminded that we always ended our emails with “I will always love you.” Jack once told me that most people never experience intense love. As sad as it makes me that Jack's no longer in my life, I'm grateful that I was fortunate to have loved him. I don’t know if his spirit is still floating around somewhere or if he has a different perspective toward me or our time together now that he’s no longer in this world, but I do know that as long as I walk this earth, I will always love him.