I’m using the true story hashtag a lot these days. Yesterday on Instagram I told of meeting a follower of mine at concert down in San Diego over the weekend. #truestory. Some things that happen to me seem so unlikely that I feel compelled to tell everyone right out of the storytelling gate that it’s a true story. In this story (that is true) I’m made aware of how grief and trouble (okay, unrelenting stress and fear) can indiscriminately pervert one’s memory, understandably, mercifully, extirpating it at times.
Four years ago, while my husband and I battled his brain and lung cancer, I went shopping at a local antiques and vintage marketplace. I don’t actually remember doing this but the evidence is there that I did. I’m guessing I needed a mental break from the sheer terror that our lives had become, coping with so many all-consuming medical needs, when just months before there had been none of these issues and we both just blithely went about our work and life together. I’m conjecturing here- that my husband was having his chemo drip, which took the better part of a day, and I was killing time while he took the treatment by running errands, etc., before collecting him from the cancer doctor and taking him home.
This past Sunday, four years later, I was looking through my linen drawer in the kitchen for a tablecloth when I found a one-of-a-kind pair of overalls made from vintage tablecloths that I could only dream of.
I thought they were in my dreams but they weren’t. The strain of life at the time that I bought them obliterated all memory of their purchase and left me thinking I only dreamt of cute overalls.
It was obvious I never tried them on. So, I never knew if they fit. It makes sense that someone put them in the linen drawer, could have been me, and not in my clothes closet and there they sat for four years, forgotten. I only remember now that they are found, evidence in hand. I might never have remembered otherwise.
I’ve washed them and tried them on and I’m happy to announce that even though aging, stress and grief have ruthlessly ravaged my body – they fit!
One thought on “#truestory”
There’s so much I want to say about that blog entry. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for finding me special. Thank you for sharing the personal story of your husbands cancer battle and passing🙏🏼💔 Thank you for sharing the pictures of the overalls (so cute)! Thank you for bringing up topics like grief and memory and so much more. I’m so blessed to have met you. And I appreciate your transparency and authenticity. It is healing🙏🏼❤️ True Story.