Theme Thursday

Of course the week before Halloween today's theme is, you guessed it, Halloween. For more Theme Thursday participants be sure to go here.

Although this isn't particularly about Halloween, it is a little creepy, so I thought I'd share it with you tonight. As I'm sure I mentioned at one time or another, I had a boyfriend that I totally loved. Seriously, I thought we were going to get married. We didn't. But that's another story. My point is that I loved his family. I considered his parents as my own. Not that my parents weren't enough, they definitely were, but I loved his parents as well.

This boy (because surely that's what he was at the time) and I broke up... or rather he dumped me, but I'm sure I was a major part of the problem ( I had issues). But I never stopped loving his parents. A few years went by, I had moved to Reno and had just given birth to my second child. I called this boy (who was by this time a man), because we still talked occasionally. He told me his father just died. In fact I had called on the day of the funeral. I was shocked. I was heart broken. I was 1500 miles away with a new baby, a two year old,  a good-for-nothing husband, and I couldn't make it to the funeral. Honestly I was devastated. I always wondered if I had made it to that funeral would things have turned out differently with us. Probably not, but that's where my mind was.

Anyway, over the next few days I was just crushed at not being able to be with this boy, or his mother, in their time of need. My then-husband and I were fighting (as usual) one night, I don't even remember what it was about. I got out of bed and went into my daughters bed to sleep with her. I was curled up on my right side facing the wall, with my back to the bedroom door.

A few minutes later I heard my husband come in the room. He stood over me for a minute or so, then put his hand on my left shoulder and squeezed it lovingly. I figured he was trying to make up since he was such an ass. I took my right hand and placed it on top of his (which was still on my shoulder). I felt the wiry little hairs beneath my palm. I felt the cold hard metal of his ring. I squeezed back in acknowledgment. Only then did I turn to look at the hand I was holding.

It was not my husbands hand.

I could see the Ole Miss class ring clearly, the ruby red gem in the center glinting from the light in the hall. I was holding the hand of my ex-boyfriends dead father.

I sat up with disbelief, but he was gone. He had always said he hoped we would stay together, and I think he knew how desperately I wished I could tell him a proper goodbye. I never saw Mr Jim again after that night, but sometimes I still think about him. I'd want him to know that even tho things didn't turn out as I planned, they turned out the way they were supposed to, and that is always okay.

Happy Halloween