On Terrapins And Other Things

Friday

May 4, 2001

Dear Jim, 

Eastern Box Turtle

I was just looking at your letters and reliving Spring, 1954*. Oh, what I wouldn't give to turn back the clock. Thank you for such precious and, sometimes, bittersweet memories. I know there were times I was scared and doubted if we would ever marry. You had such a hard time adjusting to civilian life. My self-esteem was never really good -- after you came home, it would rise and fall easily.

But that's not the reason for this letter.

I was putting TOWA stuff "somewhere" and came across some facts that I heard at the Saturday morning meeting with a ranger from Warioto State Park.** It was such a habit to jot it down notes and tell you about them for one of your articles:

• "Ridges are like wrinkles in a carpet." 
• "Rocks make up the variety in the land." 
• "Kentucky coffee trees are in the park; one of the oldest trees is here." 
• "Terrapine is the Algonquin word for box turtle." 

Then I realized the futility of what I was doing and I was filled with crushing sadness. I am overcome with tears and grief as I write this. Jim, I can't bear this separation from you. My heart aches with sorrow and loneliness. My tears flow like rain and the sobbing starts. 

I watched Dr. Phil on Oprah and it broke my heart. He talked about a joyful marriage and I remember ours. Sometimes now I wish (or think maybe is a better word) that if we hadn't loved each other so much, maybe I wouldn't feel so empty, lost, and without hope. You said I was "strong," but the truth is that I could be strong for you and because of you.

I look at our wedding pictures and remember the joy and happiness I felt that day and up to the horrible day that you left me. I know that you didn't leave me by choice. Your big, wonderful heart just gave out. 

We had so many plans - going to Tucson in February. And just living in our home that we loved. I'm still here, but it is empty and lonely without you. Oh, my darling husband, I miss you so much. Life just doesn't have any meaning without you. I love Connie, but it's a different kind of love. A wife without her darling husband is lost. 

Until we meet again, I will always be your wife. I love you so much.

Norma

Notes:
* Norma saved Jim's letters from his tour in the Navy during the Korean War. They are available to read at Letters From The USS Valley Forge (http://ussvalleyforge.blogspot.com/2015/04/hello-from-boot-camp.html).
** Norma was a stickler for details, ask anyone who watched her carefully measuring ingredients while cooking, but I believe she's confused about "Warioto State Park" because there isn't a listing with that name in Tennessee; perhaps it's been renamed. My guess is that the ranger she references mentioned the Warioto Audobon Society, which is active in the Dunbar Cave State Park and she confused the two when journaling.