One thing I know, unequivocally, is that life is
not fair. If life were fair, today would have been Jim’s 79th
birthday. Instead, of “live long and prosper,” dementia took him down in April
2005.
Jim grew up traveling the highways and byways
between Missouri and Oregon with various detours along the way. He lived in
rickety rental houses, as well as under trees and bridges. Still, he had a
happy, adventurous childhood.
The one thing about Jim’s family that I understood
clearly was that sometimes they did not have a house to live in, but they were
not homeless. Some people say that church is not a building, but cannot accept
that home is not always a house.
I remember a trip to Oregon when we drove around
with Jim’s brother Bob. He would point at a huge tree and say, “We lived under
that tree.” And who could forget the story of the bridge they lived under in
Texas. A man in a fancy car brought them groceries. Later when he became president,
they recognized Lyndon Johnson.
When we traveled through Oregon, Idaho, and Utah,
Jim would point out what he called his “old stomping grounds.” We drove by a
house in Silverton where the Fisher family lived for quite awhile. Jim had often
talked about the weeping willow tree, and it still stood in the front yard.
Another thing I know is that life is
serendipitous. My Mom and Dad went to town once a week to stock up on
groceries. It takes a lot of groceries to feed eight kids. Sometimes I went
with them and sometimes I stayed home. One week, Mom and I were in the Dew Drop
Inn having a hamburger when a man that my mom knew sat down at our table to
visit. His name was Kenneth Fisher.
The next week on our grocery run, I ran into
Kenneth again, and he said, “Linda, I have someone I want you to meet.” He
proceeded to introduce me to his son and nephew. The nephew was Jim and Kenneth
became “Uncle Orvie” to me.
Life can sometimes be a smooth, boring highway,
and other times a treacherous mountain pass crammed with hairpin curves and no
guardrails. Undoubtedly, the terrain of life can transition from one extreme to
another in a heartbeat. Either way, there’s no going back for do-overs. The
pathway ahead has to be navigated with planning, skill, and luck.
Jim and I had a rough road in the beginning,
followed by several mundane years without life being such a struggle. Then, we
spent the final ten years careening the hairpin curves, and hanging onto as
much normalcy as we could. Through it all, our love never wavered.
Life is a series of destinations. We move through
childhood, thinking we want to be adults. After we become adults, we hope to
find our dream job, someone to love, and a happy, healthy family. As we grow
older, we launch our kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids along life’s journey.
Our final earthly destination is death. Jim’s came
when he was 59 years old after ten harrowing years of cognitive decline. His
time here on earth came to an end, but he left an indelible mark in our hearts
and memories.
Since I met Jim on that summer day in 1968, not a
single day has gone by that I haven’t thought of him. Sometimes in quiet moments,
I can feel his loving presence, and I know he is just a heartbeat or a breath
away.
Yes, today, Jim would have been 79 years old if he
was still on earth, but instead he is ageless.
To Register or to Donate to the Sedalia Walk: alz.org/sedaliawalk (our team is Jim’s Team)
Copyright © August 2024 by
L.S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
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