We met when Ron was in the Air Force. I was 17, he was 22. We dated a year and then he got orders to be transferred to Canada. That day he asked me to marry him. I have some extra sensory perception, but apparently it wasn’t working that day, for I tried to postpone making a commitment. He filled my every thoughts and his kisses were like no others, but I did not trust life. I had a terrifying premonition when I was five that my father would leave us. Four months later, he passed. The night he died, I sensed the presence of others, but I could not see them.
At that age I did not, of course, know of that often reported sighting of past loved ones, by those in the presence of the dying. So I thought they were outside watching us through the windows. When morning came and I learned of his death I thought they had come in and killed him. Shortly afterwards, my mother had a major breakdown and I thought she was sick and the killers would now come for her. She recovered, but that fear in subconscious form stayed with me for many years.
I’m sure Ron’s proposal awakened that old fear, so I tried to buy time. Why didn’t he go ahead and when he got leave, we could get married then. He wouldn’t buy that so I gave in, still hedging my bets and said, “Well, I guess, if it doesn’t work out, we can always get a divorce.” He married me anyway. We were married sixty-two years.
He passed six years ago, but he still keeps in touch. In fact, he got me to write my current book, This Thin Veil Between Us. I call him my “ghostwriter.”