Embrace the Bacongal, and what ever I'm itching to say !

I wrote this 7 years ago.  It seems so long ago. Before I met Robbie and learned what marriage and life can be. So grateful. This day is about remembering those fallen and sacrifices. This is just my little story. 9-11-01 is a date that none of us could forget, nor should we. It was like a wake up call in the most horrific painful way, for the whole country. For me it was a wake up call on a completely different level. I didn’t know it was a wake up call for another 8 years, and those 8 years will be something that I can never regain. On September 11, 2001 my husband was spending a long weekend with another woman. His mistress. His first mistress, that I know about. Her name was Dora. Dora Elise Perez to be exact. I just said that out loud as I typed it. Because for years and years I was afraid to say it out loud, to think it even. Because if I thought it, than I would be accusing the man I love of something horrible. Dora was just the first, or at least he said she was the first,

That's how old my Mom was on the day she died. Mom was born October 13, 1945 and died September 28, 1988. Today, I am 42 Years, 11 months and 7 days old. The idea that in 8 days I will be as old as my Mom ever was is kinda freaking me out. When she died, I was 16, and of course she seemed old even though I knew she wasn't. But now I am her age, and unless I get hit by a truck or the rapture happens, I will grow older than she did. Thinking of that is a huge dose of her reality versus what mine is. She was dying when she was my age, and had been for a couple years.  Me, I don't think I'm dying, not any faster than any other healthy person.  I should be very grateful for my reality.  I am a slow runner, but can run 5 miles and at worst have a sore big toe on my left food (true story). Be thankful for all you have, grateful that you are healthy enough to know what you don't have, and humble enough to remember there are those that see the end of their lif