The divorce was final in February…so fast when no one cares.
Even daughter Sarah was quick to say, “You should have done it years ago, mom. Dad was such a jerk.”
The papers came in the mail along with an announcement that Portland High School was going to have an Al Class-All-Year Reunion in August. Oh…
My mother died two months after my divorce was final.
My dad had died a couple of years earlier…so now it was just me and remnants of their life.
I was told the house would sell quickly if I priced it cheap enough…so I did. That house held no special memories for me…I just wanted it to be gone.
There was little I wanted so I threw mostly everything out…Stuart had carried a couple of boxes of photos and miscellaneous papers over to my apartment to look through.
I pushed the boxes under my bed. I was in no hurry to re-visit the past.
It was two weeks before the class reunion and I finally needed to go through all that stuff in those boxes.
I was looking for a certain picture of Melanie and me that my mom had taken on our first day at Portland High School. Two brand-new little freshman girls with scared stiff smiles on their faces.
It would be perfect for the “Then & Now” board that would be displayed at the reunion. I was going with Mel since Stuart had bailed. He hated large gatherings and Mel felt she should go since she was on the planning committee.
My mom had kept so much stuff. I made a mental note to myself to not keep so much stuff…and then I found the diary…her diary.
She had left her personal daily diary…the one in which she had noted the weather for every day, minor and major illnesses and various appointments….and…
And…in great detail…her plan to do what she could to end the relationship between Bobby Flanagan and me…after we had re-united that hot summer so long ago.
She even had made a check-list of things to do and little boxes that she had checked off as they got done. It was almost diabolical in its precision.
And tucked between the pages was one single letter from Bobby.
My hands shook so hard as I took that one piece of paper out of the envelope.
It was a heart-breaking letter, where Bobby…just like me…had not understood at all what was happening.
“Please write to me, Sammy!” he had begged…just as I had begged him.
In the letter, he told me he was going to call me…telling me the date and the time.
He promised “he would fix everything”.
“Don’t worry, Sammy,” he had written. “I love you.”
Of course, I never got that call.
And that night, after reading his anguished letter to me over and over, until tears had all but swollen my eyes shut…I fell into a deep sleep and had that strange, lovely dream where Bobby and I were finally together.