Its strange to get a phone call that someone you once loved passionately and with whom you had a child together is sick and dying in a hospice facility of pancreatic cancer. It brings to the surface those feelings you shared, the memories, the good and bad times. He was the first guy I ever truly loved. I was already a young mother with a 5 year old and he played the part of fatherhood well. Those were some of the best times of my young adulthood.
At only 57 years of age he died the day after Christmas. Even after all the years that have passed between us he shared fond memories of us together with my daughter who visited him a few days before Christmas. She was reluctant to go even though he is her biological father, as he has not been there for her growing up. She was his first born child but he chose his path with another, only later to regret his choices he confided to her. I remember the hurt immensely over the betrayal and the lack of responsibility to parent his first-born, but I learned to pick up my life and move on....and so it goes.
Love is a rush,
a whirlwind,
the scent
of a summer rose...
a whistle blowing
on a distant track
and when it goes ...
it goes...
