Sally Went Away
Sally’s
gone now. Not from my mind, or my heart - but in reality. Our time together was
so very short - only three years. What did she do to deserve this? Someone once
said ‘…only the good die young,’ and there seems to be some truth in that.
It’s been six months now, but the ache is just as real, just as hurtful - and why? To be taken from life so soon, with everything to look forward to - not just for her, but for us. We were just beginning to really understand each other - to anticipate each others needs, and to give each other all the pleasure we could offer. And we were so happy. Each moment together was an absolute joy - each moment apart bittersweet; sad at the separation and yet happy that it wouldn’t be for long.
Sitting at my desk, thoughts of her too often come unbidden, as they do now - distracting me from my work and causing me to reflect upon the past, and the joyless days ahead.
We first met at the Herrington’s place in the Hamptons. I’d been invited for the weekend, and with some neighbors we were going to do a little sailing, barbecuing, lazing around and enjoying the early summer sunshine. Sally was one of a group introduced by Barry and Phyllis Clark, close friends of Jim and Marcia Herrington - and the moment I saw her I was smitten. Brown eyed, with hair the color of chablis, and incredibly fun loving. We gravitated toward each other and spent much of the weekend together. I learned later that some among the gathering began to whisper and smile knowingly at our mutual attraction - the way we cavorted with each other across the rolling lawn and down on the beach.
There were moments of quiet tranquility between us. Sitting on the sand, huddled against the evening chill, with my arm around her and caressing her silky, flaxen hair – content in our togetherness. Sunset and lapping water, a faraway voice on a boat in the bay, happy sounds from the home behind us. She knew, as I did, that we were destined for each other - and so it was that when the weekend was over she left with me, and stayed with me until that fateful day three years later when she was taken from me forever - a victim of cancer.
My life before Sally was, by anyone’s standards, a good life. All the material things were mine. I was content, and enthusiastic about the future. At thirty years of age, with a burgeoning career as an associate professor at a prestigious university; I was seriously contemplating family life. My parents were wonderful role models who met while in college, married and raised a loving and respectful family. When Sally left me I was brokenhearted. For a long time I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t get her out of my thoughts. She had been so much to me in the short time we were together. Her only goal in life was to be with me, and to please me with unselfish love and devotion; but gradually, as if swimming to the surface from immeasurable depths, I realized that I must begin life anew.
The decision made, I logged on to the internet and selected Google as my search engine. When it came up, I typed in Golden Retrievers and experienced a sense of relief and exhilaration. I knew that everything was going to be alright again...soon.
It’s been six months now, but the ache is just as real, just as hurtful - and why? To be taken from life so soon, with everything to look forward to - not just for her, but for us. We were just beginning to really understand each other - to anticipate each others needs, and to give each other all the pleasure we could offer. And we were so happy. Each moment together was an absolute joy - each moment apart bittersweet; sad at the separation and yet happy that it wouldn’t be for long.
Sitting at my desk, thoughts of her too often come unbidden, as they do now - distracting me from my work and causing me to reflect upon the past, and the joyless days ahead.
We first met at the Herrington’s place in the Hamptons. I’d been invited for the weekend, and with some neighbors we were going to do a little sailing, barbecuing, lazing around and enjoying the early summer sunshine. Sally was one of a group introduced by Barry and Phyllis Clark, close friends of Jim and Marcia Herrington - and the moment I saw her I was smitten. Brown eyed, with hair the color of chablis, and incredibly fun loving. We gravitated toward each other and spent much of the weekend together. I learned later that some among the gathering began to whisper and smile knowingly at our mutual attraction - the way we cavorted with each other across the rolling lawn and down on the beach.
There were moments of quiet tranquility between us. Sitting on the sand, huddled against the evening chill, with my arm around her and caressing her silky, flaxen hair – content in our togetherness. Sunset and lapping water, a faraway voice on a boat in the bay, happy sounds from the home behind us. She knew, as I did, that we were destined for each other - and so it was that when the weekend was over she left with me, and stayed with me until that fateful day three years later when she was taken from me forever - a victim of cancer.
My life before Sally was, by anyone’s standards, a good life. All the material things were mine. I was content, and enthusiastic about the future. At thirty years of age, with a burgeoning career as an associate professor at a prestigious university; I was seriously contemplating family life. My parents were wonderful role models who met while in college, married and raised a loving and respectful family. When Sally left me I was brokenhearted. For a long time I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t get her out of my thoughts. She had been so much to me in the short time we were together. Her only goal in life was to be with me, and to please me with unselfish love and devotion; but gradually, as if swimming to the surface from immeasurable depths, I realized that I must begin life anew.
The decision made, I logged on to the internet and selected Google as my search engine. When it came up, I typed in Golden Retrievers and experienced a sense of relief and exhilaration. I knew that everything was going to be alright again...soon.
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