I wrote this letter to Clint on our 33rd anniversary, in 2007. The original file on my hard drive somehow got damaged, so I am transcribing it into this document.
My Darling Clint,
When I think of 33 ears going by, it seems as though they went by too fast. But when I remember all the years of love we have shared and all the wonderful times we have enjoyed together, those 33 ears begin to stretch out into a series of memories that fill my heart with gratitude for your presence in my life. You are the love of my life and I cannot express how blessed I am to have found you. No one in my life has ever loved me they way you do, and you make me feel that love each and every day, even when we’re not together.
Remember the week at Destin when we were hiding me from Shirley? We smoked some good dope on that trip and we walked on the beach and kicked the water to make it sparkle. I think about crabbing off the North End and picking out crabs at the old yellow card table in the Broadway house. What about Bert with the dead crab in the trunk of my little Toyota when he had a date with Barbara Marbut?
I remember our first trip to Europe, how romantic it was to be with you in Paris. I relive our trips to Alaska and the Sea of Cortez. I laugh about us not being able to find the Pacific Ocean and I marvel that we spent five weeks alone in a car and never had a cross word.
What about all those supers at the club with Parrish and Shannon when they were little? Remembering what a blessing Shannon was to us and how we played such a big part in her early years makes me happy
I am thankful for your understanding of my dysfunctional family members, not to mention my own personal brand of insanity.
I think about the Christmas we all rode around in Lisa’s Suburban and looked at Christmas lights, and how we danced at Bert and Lisa’s wedding reception and were so much in love.
Remember when I trained for the New York Marathon and you were so supportive? We will never forget falling in behind a Reggae band in the Gay Pride Parade on Halloween, and the marathon the next day when your hat got so soaked, it shrank about two sizes.
Bumping down the road in The Bus toward Disney World and getting stopped at a license check where you discovered that your driver’s license had been expired for seven years. Remember me bopping both Gretchen and Parrish on the head with my dome ring when they wouldn’t stop fighting at Disney World? Neither one of us will ever forget Pascale ad “poontang.”
What about the Queen - that would be me - riding down the river drinking Bloody Marys while you and Rusty did all the work in the Ocmulgee Raft Race? And me crashing into the ski school in North Carolina when we were on or honeymoon? Not to mention m face burned to a crisp at Crested Butte or “Another liter, please,” in Kitzbuhel. Staying at Grau do Roi in the Bouzanquet;s apartment - and the horse parade through the middle of town.
I can see you up in the Magnolia tree on Lamar drive stringing Christmas lights three days after you gallbladder surgery
Your boat, The Knot Mini gave us many memories - some good and some not so good. We loved our house on Dunbar Creek so much and pulled what seems like hundreds of crabs out of that creek. Meeting and growing to love Cuz and Deegie and all the hours we spent with them sitting around the outdoor fireplace smoking and telling stories. I can see Cuz building our picnic table. And Deegie swinging into the Oak Room Bar at The Lodge, high heels clicking and face aglow with that radiance that is so much of her.
We tried to breed dogs once and had an aquarium that overheated when we were on vacation with Elliott Junior and his crowd. John T running into our motel rooms along the way ad stealing all the soap and towels from our room. Junior in the Fat Man Squeeze at Lookout Mountain.
The Pony Swim at Chincoteague with Addie will be with us forever. Having her in or lives, with her beauty and her kindness and sensitivity, has completed us in many ways.
Our losses were devastating, but we survived them and are stronger for it. Rusty and John were too young to die. We lost Elaine just as you got her back into your life and she became such a big part of mine. In many ways, Parrish is lost to me. We are losing friends at an alarming rate, but we have one another for support and comfort.
Our trip to Vicksburg in the RV with Kristy and Gretchen was so important to both of us - especially you. The way those girls love and adore you as they do is a remarkable gift for both of us. Never mind that we shook for days from the vibration of the RV!
I know there are about a thousand more things I could write down, but in my typical way, I waited until the last minute to write this and have given out of time.
You are my husband and my hero, and I love you more than I can say.
Your Fat Girl