Tuesday, Jan. 7, 2020 – The End of an Era

Things were not better in the morning. Despite valiant efforts by the entire staff at Jupiter Medical Center, Hubby continued losing ground until finally, at around 9:30, he departed this world, scattering his spirit to the universe. After a tearful good-bye and completion of the necessary paperwork, I returned home to our trailer and our critters, alone for the first time in nearly 34 years. But our lifelong philosophy has been burned into my habits: Look forward, envision what’s going to come next, and make it happen. Years ago, we read a newspaper column where the writer described life as “sitting on the tailgate of a pickup seeing where you’ve been.” Hubby and I were both amused by that, realizing that, unfortunately, that is exactly how many people view life. We, however, insisted on jumping into the front seat and driving, always looking forward, not backward in life. “Water under the bridge,” was one of his favorite phrases, and we learned to let everything go quickly, always looking forward, never backward, except to occasionally share a treasured moment we had together. I intend to continue living my life like that as best I can, to make us both happy. In that spirit, when I arrived home from the hospital, I saddled up Apollo, who has been there for us since December 2000, and was there on the trail (with his Mama) through all 48 contiguous states over eight years, and we headed out back to the Hungryland WMA. For the first time, Lola, our wonderful dog, joined us. While she was always with us whenever it was possible when we both rode together, as Hubby wasn’t able to ride as frequently and I rode on my own, Lola refused to come with me, staying behind to take care of Hubby. Today, she came with us, establishing our “new normal.” We took a nice 4 mile ride out and back (with all the rain, it was too wet to cross the swamp in a loop), then I let the horses out to roam the yard. I fixed the screen door that Lola had destroyed a few days ago, then arranged to meet my two brothers at a local pub for Guinness and a meal. I had them pour one for Roy, setting his hat on a seat next to me, in remembrance. In further remembrance, I am going to change the format of this diary from what it’s been to “Dear Roy,” writing it in letter style to fill him in (and you, vicariously) on what’s happening in my life, and the lives of all those he loved. He was the greatest man I ever knew, and I was privileged and honored that he chose me to spend the last 34 years of his life with. We said, “I love you” to each other every day, and we both adored one another, even when we were having one of our many spirited discussions. Actually, it was one long conversation we started back in 1986 and have kept going ever since. He is my soul mate, and always will be. I even coined a word for it “uni-phrenic,” meaning one person in two bodies, which is how we felt about each other, we were one and the same. I shall miss him more than I can even imagine right now, but I know just how many thousands of people he has inspired over his lifetime, including me, with his love of life, his performance skills and his great teaching ability. Rest In Peace, my love, you will always be with me, now and forever. George Roy Henderson, March 18, 1934-January 7, 2020.