Jan Needs Me Now!
Estimated reading time: 14 minutes, 4 seconds
“Dad?” The call from Samantha shocked me out of my semi-catatonic state. It had been over three decades since Samantha became my daughter after her parent’s sudden death and the will that designated me as her guardian. I was sitting on the loveseat holding my new iPhone in my hand as I had once held Samantha and, more recently, my granddaughter Janice. I let my mobile device fall onto my lap as I fully engaged with Samantha.
“Yes, Sam, how are you?”
She was standing across from me. With her blond hair and tall body, she did not look like she was related to me. Since my brief marriage dissolved, I have not had a wife or girlfriend.
“At least you know who I am,” she said. “Even if only by my childhood nickname.”
I had always called her by her nickname from the day she arrived to live with me.
“Sam, I know who you are! I was relaxing after the vacation.”
Samantha frowned and shook her head.
Dear reader, this is a change from my prior posts. It is not memories of Jan and the love we shared. It is an attempt at historical fiction. It is based on some events that occurred. Please read the first section, True Love Never Dies.
However, like all historical fiction, it asks the proverbial what-if questions. This story presumes that a frightening episode at the time had not strengthened our love and devotion.
“Dad, can we be honest with each other? You always said that to me when I was growing up and was in a funk.”
Funk? That seemed harsh of her, but I chose not to respond to that comment.
“I am always honest with you.”
She broke into a small smile.
“Five months ago, when you met Jan, your ex-wife, at your retirement dinner, you have been waiting like a teenage boy for her to call you. Be honest with me. You were looking at her Facebook page.”
“No, it was her Linkedin page….”
“Either option, you are snooping into her life, hoping that after forty-one years, she will announce on social media that she is in love with you!”
I interjected that it had been forty-three years but that only infuriated Sam.
“Dad, the number of years is irrelevant. Why don’t you like her profile and stop lurking on her sites?”
I had no answer and did not like being accused of lurking, as I was only looking at her posts and catching up with other friends after our vacation.
Sam shook her head so fast that her hair hid her face.
“Do you remember what you told me when I was doing the same thing about a boy in high school?”
“This is different.”
“No, it is not. The advice you gave me was that if the boy were interested, he would follow me or speak to me. Jan has not called or followed you. It’s time to let this fantasy go!”
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
