Sunday November 27, 2022
Today is Joyce’s birthday. She would have been 77 years old. In my family, birthdays were always a big day and families gathered to celebrate. Joyce’s family was different; there was no big deal about birthdays for them. I always found that to be sad. Joyce never cared to celebrate her birthday when we were first married. In 1967 her father was diagnosed with brain cancer. My mother called us in San Diego to tell us her father was dying. My mother and father sent us airline tickets so Joyce could be with her father. We were so broke, penniless at that time. We went to Saint Louis to see her father. I had to go on cruise a week after we returned to San Diego. We closed up our rented house and Joyce returned to Saint Louis to be with her mother while I was overseas. Joyce and grandma Mickey managed to smuggle our infant daughter into the hospital (for some reason babies were not allowed to be in hospitals back then) Joyce’s father got to hold his granddaughter only that one time. Joyce’s father died on her birthday that year. She didn’t ever want to celebrate or even mention her birthday after that. It wasn’t until 2001 before I went against her wishes and gave her a bouquet of roses and took her and grandma Mickey out to dinner that night. That was the last time I can remember that we celebrated her birthday in the way I wanted to have it.
Today I will remember her with love. I’ll say so long Joyce, because lovers never say goodbye.
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