Since you went away…

A letter to my dear departed husband, Pepe

Since you went away…

For the first time, I will be commemorating our March 16th meeting day without you. Remembering that on March 16, 2004, seventeen years ago today, you walked into my life and changed it forever.

Pepe’s anniversary gift from me.

Since you went away…

I frequently read and re-read your notes and letters and the beautiful greeting cards you’ve given me over the years. Your E-Mails and Texts that could very well be included in a romance novel and published. My all-time favorite, as you know was the one you sent me on November 22, 2004, that I have committed to memory. We were eight months into our ‘friendship’, as I kept insisting. But you patiently took the lead and guided me in your direction:

Since you went away…

‘I feel like half a pair of scissors.’ As we used to say whenever we traveled apart. Only now, in my case the other half, my better half is gone. I never ever imagined that I would miss you this much, or that missing you could be this utterly painful. I miss talking to you. Sharing thoughts and opinions and virtually everything that accompanied your essence. Your presence. Your voice. Your deep, resonant and gentle voice. The sound of your footsteps. Your endearing words when you called me “Sweetie”, “My Love”, or “Darling”. I miss the warmth and affection of your touch, always near and dear.

Since you went away…

I feel you near me. And I do love and appreciate that. Your familiar presence, though not physical, is still with me and communicating with me. Several of your notes and cards and E-Mails and Texts appear, seemingly out of nowhere almost every day, falling out of the strangest places. Long-archived pictures of you continue to appear on my cell phone and computers. And I am certain that it’s you selecting pictures and sending me music and song favorites of yours that we have shared and discussed over the years. Most recently, your Heavenly selections have included some real tear-jerkers, e.g. Andrea Bocelli singing You’ll Never Walk Alone and Billy Preston’s I’m Never Gonna Say Goodbye. Our favorite composer’ Ennio Morricone’s I Knew I Loved You brings back memories of the long drive we took up the California coast to Monterey when we played it over and over. Amazingly, but maybe not, another one of your selections, Talk To Me by Paul Carrack, captured my attention this evening, and as we discussed many times, the lyrics of this song are nearly identical to words you spoke to me when you walked into my life and convinced me that you belonged there.

Since you went away…

I now realize how very unique our relationship was from the very beginning. We actually connected over words. Our mutual love and respect for the written word. You took me by surprise when you volunteered feedback for one of my articles in the newsletter. So I felt I could trust you to read some of my other work. And pretty soon we were also communicating on another level, not only with words but with a fleeting glance. A wisp of a meaningful smile. A word or phrase to be examined for its true meaning. I recall our very first lengthy telephone conversation when the battery on your cell phone died and you raced out and drove to the nearest pay phone to call me to pick up where we left off. I remember our first date. You had called me at work and invited me to a screening of the movie The Motorcycle Diaries, which you had already seen, but you wanted to share it with me because it was filmed largely in your homeland in Peru. After the movie, we went to dinner and sat talking until the restaurant closed. Then, while driving me home, you caressed my hand and said: “I really don’t want to leave you, Aundra. I feel like something has happened between us.” You were so right. And the rest became our history.

Since you went away…

Our bed remains a comfort zone, and wonderful memories abound. Such lovely memories. The caress of your pillows soothes me to sleep and could perhaps be responsible for the dreams I still have of you each night. But by far, mornings are the most difficult, and one of the times when I feel your absence most acutely. Making my own coffee has been an emotional ordeal. After 17 years of you making me a perfect cup of coffee every morning, I realized that I had to create a new morning routine for myself. So I bought a new programmable coffee maker which I can set up at night before I go to bed and have it programmed to have my coffee ready in the morning without my having to linger too long in the kitchen.

Since you went away…

My work continues and I know that you are pleased. You always loved my writing, and you were my greatest champion and best editor when necessary. Your constant encouragement and support as I worked on my brother’s behalf kept me focused and encouraged, and your faith in me was strong. Several of my projects appear to be coming to fruition lately and it saddens me deeply that you are not here to share the good news with me, but I don’t have the slightest doubt that you know. For in your new role as my Heavenly Angel. The Angel on my shoulder, I feel you and I sense your presence, and I will for the rest of my days.

“…such pain is a small price to pay for such a love.”

17 Years Together

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Freelance Writer, Essayist, Blogger, Curious Social Observer. E-Mail me at: aundra.willis@gmail.com or visit https://aundrawilliscarrasco.com

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