My last tear

My last tear

There are times in your life which define the rest of your life, if you let it. My husband was in the military. He was sent to Russia for a reason he could not discuss. In one of his letters, he described a street: “The street is a throwback to the old days. When you would want to mail a letter you would put it in an envelope take it to a letter box to send it off. As you walk along aroma of cabbage drifts through the streets as a plastic bag floats by and sticks to the curb. In the summer the tar heats and it’s odor mixes with the cabbage.” I cry when I read these letters for the 100th time wishing they had sent him to the United Kingdom instead. He would have been safer describing the aroma of Kipper instead of tar and Cabbage.

Josh was there a short time before a thief took his life. Sergei his name was, thought Josh had American dollars which was worth much more than the Ruble.

I sit here reading these letters and looking through old photos. The old saying “A picture speaks a thousand words” many times is very true. I have in my hand a photograph of my parents. The title is ‘Our Escape‘ There was an oar lying next to the picnic table they were sitting at. The table had a red gingham checked table cloth. What looked like fried chicken, potato salad, and a bottle of wine. A sign to the right of them said ‘no alcoholic beverages passed this point’ I laughed when I saw the sign. I never took my parents to be rebels. On the ground near my mom’s ankle was a grasshopper. This too made me laugh knowing how mom hated any kind of bugs. If she knew it was there she would not be smiling, she would be standing next to the fried chicken on the picnic table.

When I need a remedy for my doldrums, I pull out the family album and it never fails to cheer me up. Josh and I were only married 2 years. I wish I had more photos of him. I am not so sure looking at photos would keep me from my grief I still feel.

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