Memories of Sam

Sam is the blond kneeling in front, I am behind him in the plaid shirt

I met him when I was 18 and he was still 17.  He was a small town boy from Nebraska and I was a big city girl from New Orleans.  We met our very first week in Boulder, Colorado during freshman orientation.  Our lives would continue to interweave for the next 42 years.

Sam Without a Shirt

A college friend sent me these pictures.  Sam was my Golden Boy during those years, full of sun and laughter.  By the time I met him he had already experienced the death of both his parents and more painful experiences than most of us will know in our life times.  But in those early years, life was full of possibilities and adventure.  Or, at least, women:).

I was not a particularly easy woman to love. My soul demanded travel and independence and I could not be tied down.  But Sam loved me anyway.  In our early 20s he was devastated to learn that while in Greece I had met and married a Greek dancer.  But Sam loved me anyway and waited out the years until I returned to his life.  During our 23 years of marriage he allowed me more free rein than most men would find possible and all he ever asked is that I return.

Sam was also not an easy man to love.  The pain and the hurt he had accumulated created emotional boundaries that could never be scaled.  He was a sensitive soul and the world was a very harsh place.  The walls became thicker and stronger and he became trapped with his demons.  But I loved him anyway.

I will always love him and carry a piece of him within my heart.  Although that is the last time I will see him in that particular form, I have no doubt we will find each other again.