Friday, January 19, 2007

Ed Edward Eddy



"Why did you do all this for me?" he asked. "I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you."

You have been my friend," replied Charlotte. "That in itself is a tremendous thing."

--E. B. White (1899-1985) American Writer

Ed wasn't just my husband. Ed was my best friend. I can say with honest affection, life with Edward was one big date.

Throughout our marriage, when there was a problem, and usually the problem was mine, Ed was there for me.

I remember once at the end of a long hard day I came home from work moaning I hate my job. It was Ed who made me feel better; Ed who put things in perspective. Ed who said, half joking, "Linda, I'm the only white guy in my office. And I'm Jewish." Then he gave me a big hug. And grinned.

Ed had an uncanny way about him. He was unpretentions, direct, dogmatic, fairminded, posessed a great sense of humor, owned a sense of adventure. Above all else, he had the ability to guide me back on target whenever I veered off course. Ed was my anchor. And dang! If I live to be 1003, and G_d, please don't do that, I will never fully get over why we ended sooner than later. We were that good.

I realize nothing and no one is forever. Life is a fragile gift. And I'm eternally grateful for that rainy day in May 1985 when Ed slipped a shiny gold ring on my finger and I pormised to be his wife. But c'mon, even Timmy was sad when Lassie got lost.

Nobody expects to knit themselves into another person. Everybody would like to think they adhere to the adage, "Never put all your eggs in one basket." Perhaps that is what they truly believe.

People may pontificate to anyone who will lend an ear that though they are married and love their spouse, they don't define themselves as being somebody's wife. They proclaim to be an independent human being. Then they go on about the business of living ignoring the D word, thinking death happens to everybody else's husband. Until...

But trust me on this, anybody who says all of the above is fooling nobody but their own self. They are an island with no tide, and as alien as ET with no phone and no home. And I hope we never meet.

For a good long time I was Mrs. Edward Sclier. And with all the pain and sorrow, if I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't hesitate to hop on board and begin rowing again.

I'd give anything to see that man's face one more time. Hopefully someday I will.

I love you Ed Sclier, wherever you are.

Thanks for the memory.

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