The Other Worst Night of My Life - The First One

This is how the first worst night of my life went. A night I will never forget.

George Woodworth was the love of my life. That's true. He was a man like you don't meet too many of. And I was fortunate to walk down the aisle with him. He was fortunate too, because I've turned out to be a pretty good person. I've come to be very strong fending for myself and my son. He'd be proud of the woman I've become.

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But back then, I was nineteen, I was madly in love with the man every girl in the church secretly wanted. I had nothing to worry about. I quit my job at group Services to stay home and be his wife. And hopefully raise a houseful of kids. That was my plan. But how wrong I was.

The Other Worst Night of My Life - The First One

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We had dated for a join of years. We were married a slight over a year when George Jr. Was born. His proximity added an additional one dimension to the joy in our home. We were thrilled. As soon as George came in the door, he'd ask "How's Daddy's slight man?" and he'd go to the bassinette and just look at him. I think he could hardly believe this slight bundle of joy was certainly his.

We had a blissful five weeks. Five whole weeks, and it was over. George was gone and he wasn't coming back. We were having a barbecue at the river and while the ladies were preparing the food, the guys were taking a dip. George couldn't swim. He'd said he could dog-paddle, but he must have been too scared. All of a sudden someone said, "George is drowning!" My God, this can't be real. It was my brother, Frank, who had yelled to Dad. It was surreal. I stood on the shore, my sister, Paulette, holding slight George, and watched my husband's head for....well, I don't know how long. It must have been at least a minute. I view Frank would be able to help him. I view it would end okay. But I was wrong. I can still see his head going down, being swallowed by the otherwise beautiful, Saint John River. This couldn't be true. I didn't want to live. But I had to. I had slight George.

I went home and laid on the couch. My mother called our families. I didn't give a hoot what they did. I kind of hoped they wouldn't find him. As long as they couldn't find him, maybe it wasn't real. They searched for hours, and I laid on the couch for hours. I heard someone say if they didn't find him, the eels might start eating him. No, I didn't want that either! Sometime nearby 11:00, I suppose it was Dad that came back and said they'd found him. It was Dad's brother, Uncle Darrell, who had found him with a hayrope pole he'd made.

I can't put in words how I felt. It didn't seem real. How could it be real? He was supposed to come home. We needed him. What would I do? But two days later, it was real. They brought his body home. The gorgeous body of my soul mate. It was awful. Mom and my Aunts looked after the kitchen and feeding everyone. I didn't know how a someone could think about food. I didn't care if I ate. Ever again. But I had been nursing the baby and I must have tried to eat something. I was in a daze. Mom came to me and said maybe since I wasn't eating much, slight George wasn't getting adequate nourishment. And maybe we should give him a bottle. She acted like she hated to say it. Yes, that made sense. George had to eat. And he stopped crying.

But I didn't. I didn't know how I'd ever get through this. I don't know that I wanted to. I wanted it all to go away. I had always been nervous about death and I'd view if someone I loved died, I wouldn't be able to bear seeing them put in the ground. But by the time we got to the graveyard, it didn't matter. My George was gone. He wasn't in that casket. Just his body. Just the body of my friend and lover. My face felt like it had lengthened a join of inches. And I think it stayed that way for quite some time.

I've always said that if I hadn't had slight George, I'm not sure what I'd have done. Even now, I think if I were back there, and didn't have George, I'd want to curl up in a ball and disappear. Let the world go on. I wouldn't want to go on. But I did have slight George. And I loved him so. And he was his daddy's boy. I still had George's son, and I was so glad.

Mom asked me if I wanted to move back with them. I'd always been nervous and probably wouldn't have stayed alone. I didn't want to but I didn't know what else to do. So we stored my furniture at Mom and Dad's place. I'd go seeing for something and see the table, the fridge, the bed, anything, something that told me that year certainly had happened. Would I ever need that stuff again? Would I ever be able to be happy again?

Of policy my parents and sisters loved and spoiled George. I'd had ideas about how I wanted to do things. But it was me against four, so I gave in. They helped me a lot and I just went along with whatever. I wanted to keep his diapers snow white. Mom had a lot to do, and they got cleaned, but they weren't snow white. So I didn't care. Let them do whatever. I didn't even bother to help. I was ashamed of myself later, when I came to my senses. I guess I was surviving.

George was a year and a half when I built a slight house, just big adequate for him and me really. I figured that's all we'd ever need. And I made a life for us. George was my slight angel and I loved him. Everybody loved him. Not just because he didn't have his father, but he was the first grandchild in my family. And George had been the favorite in his family. So slight George got all kinds of love.Just not his father's love. I think he was a good kid. All things considered, he was a fine kid. But I recall a few citizen saying that he didn't "mind" like he should. Of course, these citizen didn't have their own kids yet and you know how that kind likes to talk. I didn't believe them, and I still don't. I do think he knew he could find his mother's soft spot though.

Life went on, but it was never the same. The sun never shone as brightly again.

The Other Worst Night of My Life - The First One

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