When I look back at the life I had with my alcoholic, bank robbing felon I marvel that I not only survived our four years together but I miss him. I miss his body and his attention. I miss sleeping with him and having the holidays with him at my Mom's. I miss him every day. There is one good thing about an alcoholic, they like to stay home. I liked having his company. Most guys seem so busy. He was totally mine.
And yet I am glad he is dead. Does that make any sense? Yes, it does. His whole life was trouble from when his mother put her controlling nature to work on him and he rebelled. I rebelled against my controlling mother too and that was a big thing that we had in common. She never knew that he was a bank robber. She knows not to delve too deeply into my life.
I like an intense life. I do not live like an ordinary older lady. I take chances on people that other people throw away. Maybe it is because I have low self esteem. Maybe it is because I like a challenge and drunks are easy to manipulate. Maybe it is because I am crazy too. I do not drink or do drugs to excess. Hardly at all. But craziness does not scare me as much as it should. I see it all around me every day. Doesn't everyone ? or do most people put blinders on?
At the Center where I work we were all sitting around at the end of the day with just two clients left. Someone mentioned that if the economy didn't get better they were going to rob a bank. Another lady said she had thought about it too. I said I knew a bank robber who had robbed eight banks and one of those twice. That always gets a laugh.
We talked about the best way to rob a bank and I know a great deal about it all after being so close to my bank robbing friend. He taught me so much about what not to do in life. He spent six years in federal prison. We could have had it all if he had been able to quit drinking and stop trying to right the wrongs of the world. He was always attempting to be the good guy who saves the day.
He saved me. He and I had so much fun and we were very close. We loved to be together and those were my last words to him. "I love you and I miss you", in spite of the fact that I was wary to use the words "I love you." with us. Then they put him on the ventilator and ten days later they unplugged him and he died. He was trouble with a capital T. He made my life heavy and hard. But I still miss him. How can that be?