Abruptly Alone: A Widow's Memoir

By Jeannie Meach Fredrick

Jeannie Fredrick was living an enamored life. Larry, her husband of thirteen years, was managing a local bank, they lived in a beautiful house on a quiet lake, had a close group of friends, and her in-laws, whom she adored and was helping take care of, lived just down the street.

One Sunday morning, Larry woke her up while he was in the middle of a heart attack, which he did not recover from. That time drew a line in the sand. From then on, it was before Larry died and after Larry died.

This emotional book will make you cry when saying good-bye to the old life, laugh as she discovered skills she didn't ever want to know she possessed, and celebrate her small and large victories.

Through the grace of God, Jeannie learned that she was stronger than she thought and found that by going through some difficulties she could conquer most anything she put her mind to including using a chainsaw. She came to understand the value of friendships yet knew when to set boundaries to take care of herself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543987065

Book preview

Thanksgiving

The Box

Introduction

It had been eleven years and the box had been around. The faded green flowered paper that decorated the box, curled at the corners and seams. Where the clear packing tape once held the lid on, it now was peeling off due to time spent in the attic during many hot Florida summers. In the event of a fire or other natural disasters that required evacuation, the box, which was the size of a small suitcase, would have been easily overlooked.

I had purchased the box shortly after Larry’s death. I was so worn out from thinking about death and the symbolism of darkness that I thought the bright floral paper was appropriate for a box full of memories. I collected a few personal possessions, cards, and the list of thank you notes sent. Fortunately, Helen had thoroughly logged each visit, flower arrangement, gift, food and favors that she thought might require a thank you note.

The box went into the attic for eight years. I nearly forgot about it until our house, the final house that Larry and I had together, sold and it was time to clean everything out for the new owners.

It was difficult for me to think that there would be new people living in the house, placing their furniture in my rooms. They might even paint, remove the wallpaper, shiplap in the guest bathroom or change window coverings. The old adage, If only the walls could talk, took on a significant meaning for me. The new owners will have new memories. But for me, I thought about all the fun and the entertainment we had, the Christmases, the Thanksgivings, and the quiet times that we shared in this home. It was also the place where I lost Larry, grieved, and then reinvented myself.

After selling the house, there were three more moves and with each move, I’d handle the box but I didn’t give it any thought. Over the eleven years that it remained sealed, my memory of the contents faded.

Now that I was comfortably settled in my newest home where I planned to stay a while, I took the box to my studio, placed it on the counter, and went to work cutting off what tape was left to free the treasures neatly tucked inside. I quickly put the scissors away and pulled the lid off.

I was surprised at how full the box was. I grabbed the top item and memories exploded out of the box like a jack-in-the-box.

I pulled out a Green Bay Packers tee-shirt, a Glen Lakes Country Club golf shirt, two ties and a bath skirt. I thought back to the stories Larry had told me about being a Packer fan, the games he’d attended, and all the times we cheered for Brett Favre as he led his team to victory.

I discovered a white tee-shirt and was startled when I realized that it was the Jeff Gordon shirt Larry was wearing when he died. It was cut down the back. I wondered why the hospital would have given that back to me and why in the world I would have saved it.

I also kept a Barnett Bank insulated coffee cup and a Barnett flag that Larry hung in his office. Barnett Bank held a special place in my heart because it brought him to Florida. Larry was friends with one of the directors and when he faced his divorce and loss of a job, he wanted a new start. His friend, Neil, knew of an opening that would fit Larry perfectly and arranged for an interview. Larry was offered the job and thus, his new life began.

His Barnett name tag that listed his name, position and city was almost the size of a toaster and seeing it again made me smile. Prior to magnets for name tags, this name tag was held in place with a giant pin. Surely, there were considerable holes in his suit jacket where it was held in place.

Included were three cigar lighters, several Capital City Bank business cards from his last job and his beloved Leatherman. The Leatherman was a multi-purpose pocket tool that he always carried with him when he was working in the yard. It had everything from screwdrivers to scissors to even a corkscrew. He loved that tool so much that he bought a couple of them for his good friends.

I had no idea that seeing a pair of his glasses would make my heart sink. Attached to his glasses were clip-on sunglasses. There was also a photo of him holding our new puppy, Skyy, with those glasses and clip-ons.

The closer I got to the bottom of the box, the harder it became. I was almost done. Just stay the course, I coaxed myself.

There was his wallet. It was like looking into a time capsule. His Social Security card, several expired credit cards, a AAA card, and several reward cards were encapsulated in the worn brown leather wallet.

A Tommy Bahama shirt brought a smile to my face. He’d worn it as the Best Man in his nephew Scott’s wedding. We traveled to the Bahamas for the wedding. He hadn’t wanted to spend $100 for the shirt but did it in spite of his conservative self because he loved Scott.

Next, I found a stack of greeting cards secured with a rubber band. They were all addressed to me from him. The cards were for every occasion - Birthday, Valentine’s Day and Christmas. Every single one was signed the same, Love you, Larry. Nothing more, nothing less.

I also found a note that had fallen out of a card from my parents. My mom had written a short message wishing me a happy birthday. My dad also wrote a short message. His shaky handwriting clearly revealed his failing health. He wished me a happy forty-fifth birthday, welcomed me into the Old Timers Gang and wrote Fallen Arches, that was possibly a code or password into the club. He wrote, Love you Jean, Dad, and under it he signed his legal name, Robert R. Meach, something he done on all our cards for many years.

I was filled with sadness when I realized that in the last eleven years, I’d lost both my husband and my dad.

What I thought were the final items, were hankies, something Larry was never without. I lifted them out of the box and froze.

There in the bottom, under everything, was his hairbrush. For years, he used a funky, cheap, round brush. Even though I forgot about it, I instantly recognized it. I reached out slowly to grasp it, like it might bite me if I acted too quickly.

I lifted it out of the box and looked at the hair that was still in the brush. When we first met, his salt and pepper hair was the first thing I noticed about him. Over the years, it slowly turned completely white. The contrast between his everlasting tan and silver hair was stunning in a masculine kind of way. Seeing him on the gurney in the ER, I was shocked that his hair was in place and his tan was still bold.

For just a moment, I slipped back into that shocked state that I had experienced in May 2005.

Meeting Larry

The Sunshine State

Chapter 1

February 1987

I was working in convention sales at a Disney hotel in Orlando. I’d been transferred from Steamboat Springs, Colorado to Ft. Worth, Texas and I finally landed in Orlando, all within just five months. I was renting a bedroom from a couple in the exclusive Bay Hill area of Orlando. My job took me out of town quite often and I wanted to save some money, so I bit the bullet, put all my belongings in storage, and rented a bedroom from a young couple.

Bill and Gwen were my landlords. We were all in our mid 20s and quickly became close friends. Gwen and I shared clothes and occasionally Bill lined me on dates with his buddies. Then the inevitable happened. Gwen became pregnant and it was time to find my own place.

I found a small one-bedroom apartment that was nothing special. There were thousands of others just like it throughout Orlando. The interior was off-white. Every bit of it. Walls, doors, carpet and even the cheap linoleum in the tiny bathroom and kitchen. But it was mine.

I was becoming a little homesick. I’d been in Orlando for almost three years, but I left many great friends and memories in Steamboat. I was working at a small hotel in Steamboat when I was hired to work at a five-star hotel in downtown Ft. Worth. When I first arrived in Texas, my relocation package included six weeks in a beautiful suite overlooking the stunning skyscrapers. The buildings were outlined in white lights, which defined their size and stature. It was exactly where I wanted to be. However, I wasn’t exactly excited about my co-workers. When the hotel sold, the old management asked me if I’d like to stay in Ft. Worth with the hotel and the new owners or move to Orlando. I jumped at the opportunity to have a year-round summer in sunny Florida.

Moving to Orlando was thrilling. I enjoyed my new co-workers and loved the area, but I missed home. I called a girlfriend from high school, who I had stayed in touch with. Kathy told me that Larry Fredrick, a local banker, was going through a divorce and had moved to Central Florida. I didn’t know him, yet I knew who he was. He was the banker in my small hometown of Craig, Colorado. A big fish in a small town. My dad knew him and had done business with him. I had worked as a teller in his bank for a very short period. In the drive-up window, no less. That’s where the newbies went. I was certain that he didn’t know me.

I just wanted to see someone from home. Someone who knew the same people that I knew. Someone who knew the same buildings, businesses, restaurants and even the dry cleaners.

Kathy told me that he had moved to Palatka. Where in the world is Palatka? I thought. She explained that he had just left Colorado and was staying in a local hotel. She couldn’t remember the name of the hotel.

Being a hotel snob, I called Directory Assistance and asked for the number of the Hyatt in Palatka.

No listing.

Hmmm.

Do you have a listing for a Marriott? I asked.

No listing.

Well this is odd, I thought.

How about a Hilton?

No listing.

Okay. This wasn’t looking too good.

Do you have a number for a Sheridan?

Nope.

I was just about to give up. I couldn’t think of any other hotel chain. Then it dawned on me.

Do you have a number for a Holiday Inn?

Yes, hold for the number.

Bingo. This better be good.

***

When I located Larry, he was staying at the hotel because he hadn’t yet found a place to live. He was working as a Branch Manager for Barnett Bank in Crescent City and overseeing two other smaller banks in the same county.

He was in his hotel room, when I finally reached him. He knew my family, but didn’t remember my short stint at the bank. We talked for nearly two hours about the happenings in Craig, the mutual people we knew, his family, my family and how we both got to Florida.

I made an offhand comment that if he’d ever like me to show him the sites in Orlando to just let me know. His comment was, How about this weekend?

And so the dating began.

For our first date, we agreed to meet at a mutual spot in Orlando. The plan was for him to follow me to my house, and where we’d leave his car. I had given him directions to a gas station just off the interstate. Just before I was about to leave, he called to tell me that he was there, but it didn’t look like the gas station I had described to him. After questioning him for a couple of minutes, I figured out that he was about five miles from our meeting place. I told him to sit tight and I’d be right there. This could have been a complete debacle, because this was before cell phones and had I left just a couple of minutes earlier, I don’t know if we would have ever met at all. It was truly a God thing, but I didn’t recognize it.

When we finally met in person, he was older than I remembered. Come to find out, he was eighteen years older. I made a comment that 1959 was a great year for us. It was the year he graduated from high school and the year I was born. He saw no humor in that.

He was average height and to me that was the only thing average about him. He had a tan that would rival any surfer, and salt and pepper hair that appeared whiter because of the contrast with the tan. The wire frame glasses that sat on his hooked nose made it believable that he was, in fact, a banker. He was very fit, working out a couple of times a week and walking whenever he could.

We went to an oyster bar, immediately ordered beer and oysters and started a conversation that would last several hours. The crude cement interior of the restaurant was no match for the warm dialogue that followed.

Larry and I started dating regularly.