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Christmas- blog 7

Yesterday I bought gift cards for all those I am buying for this year. My family has no idea how hard it is to keep myself afloat. As I said before, many times I have to stay home because just going out briefly means gas money...oh, well. I always want to give personal gifts but with the price of postage I'd just as soon they have that money for themselves. The tree is up; there's a very soothing station on TV with yule logs and traditional tunes. Bing is crooning right now. "Silver Bells." I'm feeling pretty good for a change. I cannot skip the children or my sister's birthday, my daughter also, but I let the rest know that I would not be sending gifts this year. My brother got all condescending towards me and said that I should not worry about the exchange of gifts; a gift is a gift, he said, and should be accepted graciously. He also said that it was obvious who had more money anyway. He can be a sanctimonious bastard.

I watched a movie based in Liverpool in the 40's and 50's. Just the time that my Roy would have been growing up no more than 2 hours away ...the homes were just as I remember them, tall and narrow with lots of stairs. They build upwards there as land is limited and the homes are what we refer to as "townhomes" over here, or at least similar. Roy was born in 1938 and he loved to sing. It was obvious from this movie that that was the pastime all the time back then. Actually, it also was when we lived in England and went to the pub. The night was not complete until a sing-along was thrown out there. It's in their hearts and souls over there to just sing and sing some more. Roy was such a happy, gentle soul. I can't write this without crying, I still miss him so. Now I know why really elderly folks seem to die so closely together. One wants to follow his or her love to the very end of time...the rest of us still here these days just plod on, wondering what the hell for. I have a placard that reads "We plan- God laughs." Ain't it the truth.

England was so quaint when we were there. We walked everywhere and held hands. Dogs were taken on "Walkies" and children were given "Sweeties." (Candy) Dogs went in the pubs too and got a saucer of ale alongside their masters. I think the Muslim influx over there has changed things there much as it has here.

My Roy must have had gypsy blood in his veins. Every 2 years or so we would move. Not just move. Change countries. Or we would go from Montana to North Carolina at the drop of a hat. He did contract work and so we could just go where the next job led. With my background I hardly needed to live like this. Roots somewhere would have suited me better. But I adored Roy and he got what he wanted. I would melt. All I can say is that life with Roy was hardly boring!

Now that he is gone, boring is just what I need. When I remarried after he died (that was 3 out of 3) it lasted 5 years. I thought we were O.K. But the wife is the last to know. Less than a week after the divorce I was replaced with a Vietnamese imported bride. He HAD to have that little bit of business going on while we were still together. Still, it didn't break my heart. Let's face it, he GOT me broken. Psychotherapist did his best to break us up all along... I'm surprised we lasted that long. Tired again, so more later. Not one comment from anyone about my blog out in cyberland. Doesn't anybody read these things???

1 comment

Comment from: invisible girl [Member] Email
Hey you left a couple comments on my blogs and i thank you, now i know someone reads them and has something to say and i hope that you feel the same way knowing that i read yours.
Honestly, and i mean this in no disrespectful way, but sometimes i feel bad that i'm depressed when you've had so many bad things happen to you and the worst part is you didn't even deserve them. No one does.
I loved reading about your soulmate, Roy. What i liked most was that he was from East London where i'm kinda from, well my parents for that matter but i still consider myself an eastender. I mean i talk like one, not to mention i've lived my whole life around eastender's and i used to go there every weekend when i was little, but now it's changed so much it doesn't feel the same. It's heartbreaking.
So i thought i'd write this little note to you to let you know that you are heard, you are appreciated and that there are people out there who feel like you do, they may not have been through what you have but we all have our own stories.
If you'd like to write back feel free but if not then i just want you to know that you've been heard.

Invisible Girl.
12/01/11 @ 16:10

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