Great memories are forever mine to keep. Is eloquent synchronicity only coincidence or something deliberate, far beyond our comprehension?
Can one's greatest loss become one's greatest gift? My greatest loss has indeed become my greatest gift.
It's been two years and nearly four months now since I watched the love-of-my-life take his last breath in my arms. Since then I have grown a lot. Gus took such good care of me, he handled everything. Now I have to do it all myself. Being on my own, without his constant unconditional love and support has forced me to seek approval from only myself, and to rely on only myself. This has given me all new self confidence and purpose.
In the beginning it was more than just overwhelming, it was down right impossible. I didn't make any jewelry for a full year after his death. Gus was my inspiration and my biggest fan and I kept thinking I needed a new muse, but you know what? I have become my own muse. I have learned to tune into what I like, and what I want, and what I know.
This is the second greatest gift I've ever received, second only to my Gus' love.
The Hotel where I work has bought hundreds of dollars worth of my hand made jewelry to sell in the gift shop. All because I MADE it happen. I took my new found self confidence, and the knowledge that one incredible man adored me and thought me talented and smart, and I stood tall in my power and demanded my due.
Thank you Gus, I'm forever grateful for your many lessons in life! You shall forever remain the sunshine of my life and my hero. Meeting you in that small town in the middle of nowhere and us falling in love at first sight was the greatest synchronicity of my life.
Recently another loss brought the terrible loss of my husband Gus rushing back all too vividly. It happened last December when I lost my Toyota Tercel. It was 13 years old and I was the original owner. It was the only car I've ever had that I bought new.
Another driver ran a stop sign five blocks from my house hitting my car broadside on the driver's side door, spinning me out to slam back end first into a light pole across the street.
I was really lucky and only sustained severe whiplash that my Chiropractor is still treating twice weekly. My car was not so lucky; she gave her life for me. She was totaled. OUCH, my poor little car, I will miss that car so much.
The loss is extra tough because memories of Gus were still living as strongly inside of her as they do in me. His hard hat still rode on the back deck between the speakers he'd put in, I never had the heart to remove it. Remembering the best memory tied-up in that car brings tears to my eyes now. It's the sweet memory of Gus and I LEAVING NM! "Running screaming into the night" was what he liked to call it. We had grown to hate living in New Mexico. Even though the best thing to happen to both of us was meeting each other there, we'd had things happen that made us want to leave the whole state in the dust behind us. So we sold everything we could, (including his Harley) gave away the rest, and loaded the only things really important to us into that little two-door car.
The cats were all howling in harmony inside their cages, the 3 of them all in a row across the back seat. Their litter boxes with the litter still in them, underneath their cages.
I'm still amazed they all fit so perfectly, two large and one small cage...
The trunk, and oh geez it was such a nice big trunk, was just stuffed full of as much of our belongings as we could pack in there.
We hopped into that little car jammed to the seams and about to burst,
every usable square inch of space inside of it packed. Gus cranked up the tunes, I hit the gas, we headed due west into the sunset, and we never looked back...