When I was eighteen years old, I met the love of my life, Jeff, at the University of Kentucky. We had accounting class together, and he asked to copy my homework since he had been working at the local bar as a bartender and not even opened the book. My best friend, Betty Jo, and I were amused by him. He did not conform to any particular clique, but he seemed to mingle with all of them. Betty Jo and I started hanging out with him and doing homework together. The three of us became inseparable. Jeff and I both lived in Lexington, while Betty Jo went home to Florence, Kentucky frequently leaving Jeff and I alone.
After six months, Jeff and I took our friendship to an intimate level. We decided not to tell anyone, we were already established as best friends, and we didn't want our friends to treat us differently since "nothing really had changed". The rationalization of my youth makes no sense to me now, since we announced our engagement in April to no surprise of our friends.
In the twenty years of our marriage, we had our ups and downs. Living with Jeff was always an adventure, never a dull moment. We had five beautiful children together. We both loved kids, we both loved parenting, we both loved each other. We had what everyone hoped for in a marriage. We were together, through the better or for worse, through good times and bad, til death do us part... and so it did.
On February 4th the state trooper showed up at my door to tell me that Jeff had been in a car accident at 2:00A A.M. and died instantly after he lost control of his car after a thunderstorm. I knew something was wrong since he hadn't come home, but when that Florida State Patrol Car pulled onto my property, my world fell apart.
Trooper Carr was very professional, but yet compassionate, in her attempt tell me what had happened and what steps I had to do to "claim the remains" of my beloved Jeff. I saw no need to tell the children until school let out, at which time I called the older two over and told them all at the same time. They all cried, except, our only son, Brandon.
By the grace of God, the funeral was planned, a perfectly orchestrated tribute to a man who had touched so many lives. Friends and family came from all over the country. Cousins I had only met handful of times in our twenty years showed up. Everyone chipped in and produced a wonderful reception at our home. As I sat in my rocking chair, in disbelief that we had just buried the center of my universe, the people, each one a memory of the life we had, offering their condolenses, and their support. IF I heard it once, I heard it one hundred times, "If you need me, just call".
The funeral of Jeff marked the beginning of my new life. I found a job at a major home improvement store, and began to work full time. I proved myself as a cashier, and started moving up the management ladder. I had to be at work at 5:00 A.M. and was not home until 11:00 P.M. at least five days a week. This left a void in the life of my children. I called upon several of the friends who had offered to help less than a year earlier, and everyone of their lives had moved on, and could not accomadate another demand on their time or energy. Family members whose shoulders I had cried on for so long, became tired of my plight and began calling or answering their phone. I was completely alone to pick myself up and raise my children.
I have found that their is no such thing as an easy decision. I knew that the children needed me around more than I was available, and while we could afford a few extras on my salary, my presence was more valuable. I made an executive decision to quit that position and be with my kids more. I found ways to survive on little money. We gave up cable television, we budgeted our groceries, we eliminated all the non essentials in our lives. While we were on a tight budget, we were together. No one complained...too much.
Three years and three months have passed, and I have done just that. I took a part time job at a small chain store as a cashier making minimum wage and enrolled in community college. I will recieve my associates degree in December, and plan to apply to the nursing program in January of 2010.
While I still miss my beloved husband and father of our children, life does go on. My children have seen me go from as low as I could get, to making great strides to re-establilsh the lifestyle their father had set for us. It takes time, but we will make it.