These things I miss….. about Jim.

  1.  Laughing….. at nothing and everything.  Just being silly.  Like the first time we went to the Poconos, drinking Grizzlys at 10am.  The phone rang.  Jim answered.  He said it was a woman, Mrs. McGillicudy. She was reporting off from work. Wrong number, of course, but Jim?  He said: “Hey Hon, it’s ok, take the week off.”

2,    We went to a fancy restaurant for dinner.  There was a band playing. I did not know Jim had been playing in a band for years.  We danced. He said, “What a great band.!”  It wasn’t.  We laughed our asses off.

3. We had a date:  to meet in High Bridge, NJ., to feed the ducks.  Yes, the ducks. It started to rain…… and it poured.  We were both soaked.  He took me to meet his sister, looking like drowned rats.  Zig greeted us like we were royalty.  What a great time.

4,  We got married in Maryland, in our jeans.  We heard a dog barking.  Jim said it was Mr Bojangle’s dog.  I think it was the hound dog barking on the bayou, chasing down a hoo doo there.

5.  Jim’s brother, Greg, His wife Diane, Ziggy, his sis, and Harry, her husband, would come up to see us on the holidays. What a crazy time. The laughter was outrageous.  And mostly, because Jim was a complete asshole.

6.  We went on many adventures together, and wherever we went, people were drawn to Jim. He was charismatic, funny and likeable, but as I recall, it was not all fun and games.

7. The boy had a dark side.  And when that side appeared, I disappeared.  I never knew what it was that caused it to surface, but in the last few years of his life, I never saw that side again.

8.  Jim was talented, in many ways;  He loved his music, was a great drummer, enjoyed gardening, reading Laura Ingels Wilder books, and catered to his cats.

9.  When the illness set in, he never complained.  He was grateful for everything I did for him.  He just wanted to be home, at peace, with his cats.

10.  Now that he is gone, I forget sometimes.  I talk to him, or wake up after a dream, and think that I hear him saying:  “Hey, can you bring me home some licorice?”

Here I am, reminiscing.

It’s good.

Memories are good, always with us.

Like a tiny dancer, in my hand.




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