Thirty More Years!

The truth was, deep inside I felt I should have died after Jack did. After I buried his ashes in the little cemetery in the French village where we had bought a large apartment with another couple on the shore of Lake Geneva. Then I would have never suffered the loss of our family home, my own two cancers and the heavy treatment, my mother’s Alzheimer’s, moving to Paris only to realize my fiancé only loved himself, the almost-theft by my partners of the French apartment, and so much difficulty and sadness with my two sons. I wish I could have just followed Jack to wherever he went instead of staying behind alone and trying to deal with the monumental tasks that faced me.