Hangin On

Can you see the yellow jacket hanging on for dear life on my side mirror? In funny contrast to the yellow vehicle behind me right. Yeah, on a beautiful sunny day (what happened to those we are all wondering, sunny days) he was flying at my open window, but as I quickly rolled it up he settled on the side mirror. It was fate. Now it is residing in Washington Crossing's field of daffodils, or what else it may have found. Kind of like me and all the things I have going on.

This past week I was wrapping up my genealogy and decided to add my son's father's family, but then thought about my first husband. A marriage which lasted five years from the tender young age of 18 to 22. He was twenty seven. A church going happy go lucky sort of guy, or at least I thought, very handsome, many said he looked like Kevin Costner, or even Harrison Ford, but as they say, once your married, things change.

Drugs, sex, rock-n-roll, and cruelty were his vises. His mother failed to tell me he had tried to commit suicide three times. His parents thought I would help him. We were close, even until my kids were ten or so, then I lost touch. His grandparents were wealthy Austin'ites. If you have not visited that part of Texas, well, they say its the prettiest part of the state. They owned lots of cattle and land near Georgetown. His grandfather passed away in 08, and his grandmother passed in 09...my ex-husband passed away in 09, only a few months before his grandmother. After some investigation, I discovered his third wife had shot and killed him.

I suddenly felt like the bee, I had hung on to dear life those five years so long ago, and when our world stopped...I decided to fly away and find what else lay ahead. He married a seventeen year old before the ink was dry on our divorce papers. Then married again, same situation, both times. Narcissistic abusers with charm, who go after young girls usually don't change (my opinion).

He left behind a son. My heart does goes out to those he left in the wake (more Tsunami). A life with barely a father, now no father at all. Making sense of life is hard enough, but to do it without a parent, I know this all too well. Our parallels are not so far apart. I feel the son is now the bee, even though men handle things differently than women do, lets hope he figures out when to get off the emotional ride. I only hope his mom left in time. Otherwise his sting may be a deadly one too.


I have been trying to write a poem in reference to this piece I just wrote. Maybe I will come back and take some key elements out, re-arrange it, but I find it difficult to write where my feelings are on these things. Almost like there is no connection once I have moved on. Hmmm...