Everyone has a story

My parents' generation has the Kennedy Assassination.  We have today.  Everyone has a story.  Here's mine.  I was spending the night at my Grandma's house.  And I say Grandma because really and truly, in my eyes I only had one.  But to be fair, my Grandma Agnes. I loved that woman.  I have a great relationship with my Mom but this woman was like a second mother.  Who has the luck on that? And she was sick with Pancreatic Cancer.  At the time we didn't realize she was in Stage 4.  In any case, there I was when I woke up to a phone call from my Dad. It was a little after 9 a.m. He woke me up asking if I had seen the news.  He didn't realize until that moment I had been asleep.  I went to the living room where I saw my Grandma staring at the screen.  Funny how some moments just slow down.  In my memory box in the brain, that's what it did.  I turned around and saw the commotion on the television.  I came in around the second plane crashing.  I froze, in my tracks watching what seemed like a horror film.  And yet, there it was...reality.  Someone has penetrated American soil...Twice.  For a rape survivor, this sometimes can take on symbolism.  At least for me, it does.  Being empathic to a point about these things makes me feel more.  It drains me.  And days like this, I isolate myself.  My energy is low.  I was engaged to Woody Moser at the time.  I started panicking.  I wasn't sure where he was.  And just as I was starting to think the worst, my phone rang.  Woody called.  He couldn't stay on long but he wanted me to know he was okay.  He wasn't near the commotion.  For all the consequential fighting and war of words this man and I had over the course of our marriage...this is a moment I always thank him for.  Even now. He knew my trigger.  Strange how current events on television don't reflect the one day we stopped worrying about ethnicity.  We were just there for each other.  Jeremy told me he was at the Doctor's office for an ultra sound Ashley.  So that's my story.  My Grandma passed away in 2002.  I flew in 5 days before she died  .I was holding her hand when she died.  The story doesn't quite end there.  My marriage was in trouble by the time the first anniversary came around.  But that day I decided to make peace.  I was trying to make peace with a woman I felt was a thorn in my marriage.  While I had problems with Woody already and she wasn't the only reason we divorced...she was the reason he called me up and chewed me out.  I'm not sure if he asked for a divorce right then.  I just remember it was a Thursday.  I had just gotten off work.  I found out from friends this wasn't a sudden thing.  He'd been looking into it.  I tried leaving him before his deployment.  But he stopped me and said maybe me going home was a good idea so we could cool off.  Makes me wonder...but it's in the past.  So there's my story. That song from Alan Jackson resonates in a strange way.  I heard that song and wrote that email as a peace offering.  Almost a way to say I give up.  I was trying to save my marriage.  I may be divorced but I don't believe in divorce.  I believe in working problems out.  I guess that is why through thick and thin I don't worry about Jeremy and I.  Our love and respect for each other makes us figure out how to make our marriage work.  And we fight like any couple.  But we always figure it out.  I really did marry my best friend.  He allows me to be my authentic self, wherever that road lies.  He allows me to take a path that may be less traveled by..... for my happiness, my sanity, my well being.  And likewise. So everyone has a story.  And not just for this day.  Everyone has a story on why the tick.  It's up to us to find that story out.  Friend, Family...sometimes even Foe.