Recently I found myself in a position of dealing with the death of my ex- husband.  He and I have a son together.  My son is grown , married, and with three children of his own.  I say “my” son, because he really wasn’t around since my son was about 12 years old.  I always thought he meant to be there for his son, but the alcohol, just became his priority.  He didn’t seem to have room for anything, or anyone else.  I can’t say however that he was a bad person because he wasn’t.  Just weak I guess.  He had a good heart and my son and I always knew he did love us, but he just couldn’t get himself together.                                                   He  was in a hospital when I got the call. It was his sister Betty. Roosevelt is in the hospital she said. They don’t expect him to make it!  What! I couldn’t say if I was more surprised at the news, or because I felt like I wanted to cry, or scream, or laugh. Honestly, I didn’t have the slightest clue how I wanted to react. I had never been here in this situation before.   Surely it couldn’t be true I thought. He was fine last time I talked to him. Even if that was about five or more years ago. No, it’s not possible. He was 6′4″ and big and strong!  Surely there must be some mistake.  We live in different states about 1800 miles apart.                               Betty and I would do a three way cal every day and the nurse would put the phone up to his ear. He hasn’t talked in a long time they told me. One day when I told him if he got better I would come to see him, he said ” You promise?”  Yes, I assured him. We talked for about a week or so and then he seemed like he was just tired. I learned from the nurse that he had blood clots in his heart, and had developed Gangrene in his heel from the diabetes. One day when we were talking, he didn’t answer my question about how he felt.  So I guess I reverted to my old habits and scolded him. Roosevelt!  Are you listening to me?   “Yes Ma’am” he said. But he was too tired to say anything else. That statement it turned out was the last one he ever spoke.                                                                                                                                                                     They sent him to a hospice care facility.  I was planning my trip to visit when me and Betty called . Oh ,said the sweet little nurse. Mr. Roosevelt has passed away.  Just a few minutes ago! I couldn’t hold back the tears.  Why I kept asking my self.  Why? He was OK before!  Somehow it just didn’t seem real.  How could he be dead?  As long as he was alive I was contented.  I knew that somewhere in the world was someone who in spite of all his failings, loved me.  Now that was gone and the world seemed like a bigger,colder place.  I didn’t have anyone lined up to stay at my place until next week. I couldn’t go to the funeral as it turned out.  I live in the south west in the desert.  I couldn’t just go off and leave my animals here to fend for themselves.  Maybe I was just looking for an excuse not to go.  I wanted to see him alive. I don’t think I could have made it if I saw him there in a coffin.  So I didn’t go. I sent a nice spray of flowers.  I called and sent my condolences to the family.  But I just couldn’t bring myself to go. Maybe you think that is not the act of someone who cared about him.  But he is gone.  I want to remember him as he was. Young, happy, and full of life.  And I do.   The picture in my mind of that young and handsome man is with me in my heart forever.