44 years ago, a 26 year old man that I had once loved enough to be engaged to, was tragically killed in what the newspaper reports of the day called a Holocaust. On 12/29/77, 6 more bodies were discovered. They had previously been listed as “Missing.”
I posted a FB post yesterday that mentioned the list of the dead. I only said “…not forgotten by me. Love Always…”
So as I write this, I am playing the album we always listened to together; Desperado by the Eagles.
I broke up with him before we got married, but after we had our wedding invitations, and I had purchased my super simple muslin wedding dress. I was young, way too young.
I was scared of something that I couldn’t put a name to. I had dreams of a very sad ending with this lovely young man. I called it off.
The break-up crushed him. But the grain elevator explosion literally crushed him. I cannot imagine the way it felt to literally have your life ended that way. I try to lead a life that would make him proud.
Every year on the day of his death, I allow myself to spend time dedicated to remembering what a lovely human being he was. He was truly lovely.
To the 15 FB friends who tried to FB comfort me, I say thank you. Many of you have no idea of the missing parts of my story. We all have stories. We all have missing parts. Part of me will always be missing.