Vacations Without You

At Home

Sunday Night

April 29, 2001

Dear Darling Husband,

I am home, sitting on the bed, watching a program on the Shakers*. Remember our trips to Pleasant Hill, Kentucky? I think of them now and my memories of the village, of the sweet waitress we had three times in a row who told us "no tipping" or she would be fired. You asked if she had a pocket in her skirt under her apron and then gave her $3.00 with instructions for her boss to call us.

I missed you on all of the TOWA day trips, during meals and especially at night. My thoughts are always about you. I keep reliving our life together. I miss you so much.

I want you to know how much I appreciate our life together. You never picked on me, you treated me as your wife, not as a slow-witted person**. I guess I just took that for granted. Now I see how fortunate I was. Traveling with you was fun and we saw so many places. I miss that now. It just wasn't as much fun going somewhere without you and I know that can't change. No one can take your place. I am lost without you. You made my life worthwhile and meaningful. I love you so and I always will.

Norma

Notes:

* I used to joke that my parents were "into" Protestants cults of the 19th century, but it wasn't much of a joke and it was mostly true. Jim and Norma spent family vacations exploring The Shakers, Quakers, Mennonites, Amish, you name it. If there was a historical location with a Protestant group attached to it, they were there. And if there was a cookbook in the gift shop, Norma bought it.

** Norma was hardly slow-witted but she questioned herself and her abilities. Once, she confessed to me that during an argument, Jim told her she didn't have a sense of humor, which cut her to the quick and his words continued to her hurt her after his death. I guffawed and blurted, "Of course you have a sense of humor! If you hadn't, living with him would have been insufferable!" She tightened her grip on the steering wheel but turned her attention briefly from the road. "I wish I had told you that before. It was the worst thing your father ever said to me and I never knew what to say to him." 

Skip-Bo

Thursday

April 26, 2001

My Darling Husband,

Again, I miss you today and especially tonight.

By source, fair use
Wikipedia

This morning I saw Vern and Cathy Summerlin and Larry and Miriam Rea.  They gave me a welcome hug and talked about missing you. I sat by Rob Simbeck and Debbie and Rita Venable who remembered you. Doug Markham says how he misses you and gave me a hug.

My darling, you are missed so much.

Tonight at dinner, Larry reminisced about when you two saw the Olympic swimmer who undressed in front of you two without any embarressment. Larry said he will always remember that and being with you.

Our speaker was Kingsport, Tennessee Vice Mayor Nathan Vaughn. He was interesting, welcoming, and proud of his city. He was born in New Jersey but went to school here. Our meal was delicious. This is a nice motel and the help is friendly. You would like being here.

During the Board Meeting, Miriam taught me a card game called SKIP BO. It was fun. I think I might get it for Michael for his birthday. 

Now it's bedtime and I am alone, missing and wanting you as I always do. To be in a motel without you is heartbreaking. I love you so.

Norma

Only You

4 P.M.

April 25, 2001

Ramada Inn, Kingsport, TN

Jim and Norma, circa 1995

Dear Darling Jim,

I have just checked into Room 125 -- ground floor -- for the TOWA meeting and the tears are streaming down my cheeks as I look at this silent room. I am missing you so much.

Will this ache in my heart ever stop? I don't think so.

You should be here with me. I don't like being without you. I utterly despise the word "widow." I hate everything that it stands for, yet no on can fully understand these feelings until they are in this desolate, horrible place.

To have the empty place at my side morning, noon, and night is worse than I would ever imagine. I am not a whole person anymore. When you died, half of me died, too. Some days I just don't want to go through the mundane hours.

To see happy, or even angry, couples sometimes feels like my heart is being stabbed and I'm dying a slow death. No, I don't want anyone else. I just want you, my sweetheart of 50 years. Only you.

I am yours forever and ever.

Norma

Going to TOWA Without You

April 23, 2001

Dear Jim,

I am getting ready to go to the TOWA Conference in Kingsport, Tennessee and I remember the fun times we have had at them. It won't be the same without you to share the happy times.

Jim April 6, 1961, Valley Forge, PA,
on a business trip early in his career as
an insurance salesman

Today, I've been busy washing clothes and I called Merrily Moss to send a "hello" to everyone because I decided that I was afraid to drive alone. Merrily said, "Come over and go with us." She made my day. I had been feeling sorry for myself. I wanted to go, but I was afraid.

Norma, April 1961,
outside Independence Hall, Phil. PA,
on a business trip with Jim

Oh, how my heart aches for you to be here and for us to be sharing fun times, the drive and the experiences at the Conference!

We always enjoyed the camaraderie, you seeing your fellow writers, me, enjoying the Spouse Trips. We always enjoyed the area, wherever we were. And the motel. Of course, I always said it was another "honeymoon trip." I miss you so much -- it's just so lonely going to "fun places" without you. No one can take your place in my heart. You've had it for 50 years and I want you here with me still. I'll never stop loving and missing you. 

All my love, always and forever.

Norma Jean

Jim and Norma, circa 1995 on a TOWA trip

Sundays Are Not The Same

April 8, 2001 Sunday 7 PM

Dearest Darling:

I have been thinking of you and missing you all day.

Jim Parker, August 13, 1963, en route to the Great Smoky Mountains

Honey, it's so difficult to go to church without you being with me, to sit in church by myself. I'm still sitting in our pew, but it's not the same. Every Sunday, little Cannon ("Boom Boom," you called him) comes and gives me a big hug. He is so sweet, tender-hearted, and sensitive.

I need your advice. You need to be here -- the car is acting up. I need to dispose of your carts and have to have them fixed first. The batteries are low -- I'm sorry.

I can't stop crying. I thought I was doing better, but I'm not now. I went to talk to a social worker at Baptist Hospital in Huntington and I felt better, but it only lasted four days. I can't stop loving and missing you. My heart aches. Nothing can compare to losing you, sweetheart. I just want you to be coming home, like you're still in the Navy.

I re-read your letters and I want you to be coming home to me, that it is 1953 when our love was new and strong. Life was good. I knew it then and in 1999, too.

I just love you and miss you so much.

All my love always and forever,

Norma

Notes:
Norma was 67 when Jim died in 2000 and, for the first time, she was living alone. The adjustment to being single was difficult for her and she hated the word "widow." She wasn't interested in moving north to live near friends and her daughter. She stayed in the house they shared in Waverly Tennessee, the one he loved, with a view of the creek running behind his back porch. She was lonely and alone but she wanted to stay close to Jim's grave and she spent time with his family who were always ready with a story about him. Talking about him helped a lot.

Like many people who grew up in the '30s and '40s, Norma and Jim had clearly defined ideas about household responsibilities. Taking care of the cars was Jim's job. I remember one conversation between Norma and me that may have taken place around the time she wrote this journal entry. Norma was furious with Jim.

Why? I asked with surprise. What could he have done from beyond the grave to make her so angry?

Connie (left) and Norma, June 1960, near the family car

Norma's car needed to be repaired or replaced, she didn't know which would be best, but making that decision was Jim's job, not hers. Damn him for dying. He needed to be there to fix the damn car.

This outburst was extraordinary for two reasons. First, Norma was not prone to hissy fits and second, she rarely swore. Saying "damn," and saying it multiple times to her daughter, was a real eye opener.

I channeled my inner dad and told her that, given the choice, Jim would probably opt to take care of the damn car over his current circumstances.

Norma gave a weak laugh and we discussed people she might speak to who could help her make a decision with more confidence, but the bottom line was that she wanted life back the way it used to be. I could not blame her.

April 7, 2001

Dear Jim,

Photo: USA Pictures

I just got home from Metropolis, Illinois. Polly, JoAn, Barbra and I went up for two nights and three days. We had fun, went to Players Casino that Merv Griffin owns but has just been sold. Remember we used to see TV ads about it.

As I played some machines or walked around, I remembered our trips to casinos out West and I missed you. Missed sitting at adjoining machines and see what game you were playing and you teaching me poker.

When I cashed my "winnings" in, I wanted to tell you! I got back almost $90 that I lost the first day. So, maybe I broke even (or less! HA!)

Then when I went to the hotel "AmeriHost," it was time for more memories of motels we  stayed in these past years when traveling. When I took a shower -- I remembered when we took them together! Sweet memories of a love that was a joy, fun, and always exciting.

I dreamed about you last night. You were walking down the street smoking. I was hitting you, screaming, crying, begging you to stop so you wouldn't die. I woke up exhausted. Oh, how I wish you had quit in 1954. You would still be here with me.

I'll love you forever,

Norma

Your Birthday March 31, 2001

Dear Jim,

Jim with a book, circa March 1998,
his idea of the best birthday present he could receive

Happy Birthday, Darling. I wish you were here with me to celebrate.

I had planned to have a surprise birthday party in 2000 for your 70th birthday, but it was not to be.*

The past 435 days and empty nights have been a nightmare. I miss you so much.

Today, Polly** and I took 2 bunches of silk flowers to your grave. We all miss you so. I leave a piece of my heart each time I go.

Like your Korean War Navy letters said to me,

All my love,

Norma

Notes:
  * Jim died in January 20, 2000.
** Polly Sparks, Jim's eldest sister