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A Birthday Story

June 13, 2015

Today would have been Marty’s 65th birthday.   On his 60th birthday  I presented him with this list of 60 things I liked about him.  The idea came from the 1980 song “What I Like About You” by the Romantics.  1980 was a good year for us, and that was a fun song we both enjoyed.  I thought today would be a good occasion to share this with others, because it pretty much says everything about how special Marty was and how much he meant to me.

 

 

That's What I Like about You!

60 things….

 

 1.  You’re funny.

 2.  You’re smart.

 3.  We have the same favorite color.

 4.  We dislike the same cars.

 5.  You give good foot rubs.

 6.  You take care of family.

 7.  You are good to our kids.

 8.  You’re good at telling jokes.

 9.  You work hard.

10.  You value the efforts of others.

11.  You don’t “penny pinch.”

12.  You like our cats even though you say you don’t.

13.  You’re a natural-born leader; you’re the kind of person people like to

          follow.

14.  You don’t take yourself & other things too seriously.

15.  You praise people when they need it.

16.  You don’t have to “keep up with the Joneses.”

17.  You’re a good listener.

18.  You are a wealth of useless (but fascinating) musical trivia.

19.  You’re really good at estimating and recalling time, as in how long it

          takes to get to somewhere and when we’ll arrive.

20.  You assume responsibility when needed.

21.  We have about the same tolerance for “mess.”

22.  You’re someone others can turn to.

23.  You’re a good friend.

24.  You can cook.

25.  You can do laundry.

26.  You can clean.

27.  You will take the scenic route for me.

28.  We usually like the same movies.

29.  You have planned for both our futures.

30.  You make me feel protected and safe.

31.  You know how to have fun.

32.  You do the best burps!

33.  You move rocks, and you don’t even complain!

34.  You’re practical without being overly so.

35.  You’ll try new things.

36.  You don’t make me play cards.

37.  I can be proud of your accomplishments.

38.  You brake for turtles.

38.  You can be romantic.

39.  You remember anniversaries (even if you aren’t there for them).

40.  You reset the clocks when the electricity goes out.

41.  You know how to cheer me up.

42.  You kill spiders for me.

43.  If I really want you to do something, you usually do it.

44.  You like candles.

45.  You like(d) my parents.

46.  You don’t play favorites.

47.  You’re cute!

48.  You’re sexy!

49.  You’re a good nurse.

50.  You put the toilet seat down; well, you do more than some guys do.

51.  You have excellent taste in home décor (it’s the same as mine!)

52.  You will watch home decorating shows with me.

53.  You’re fun to be with.

54.  You know what I like.

55.  You are skilled at seeing past the present & imagining the future.

56.  You’re better than I am with computers.

57.  You give me flowers.

58.  You’re patient.

59.  You give me something to look forward to every day.

60.  “You complete me.”  You have many skills I admire but will never

          have.

 

He Said He Would Be There

February 25, 2015

One of the sadder aspects of the timing of Marty’s passing was that he was not there for our daughter Jenny’s wedding.  He never talked about how he felt about that, but he didn’t talk in depth about any of the disappointments he was experiencing through his whole ordeal.  He kept most thoughts to himself.  I think that was partly because he just wasn’t a complainer, but I also think he avoided some topics because he thought it might make things more difficult for the rest of us.  He saw pictures of the dress she had picked out, but of course that’s not the same thing as seeing the actual dress - with her in it - no less.  He also saw pictures of the place in Panama that Jen and Jeff had selected for their honeymoon, and he was excited about that for them.   Although he didn’t talk about these things, I know they weighed heavily on him.

 

Flash forward to October 4, 2014.  The wedding was held at a rustic venue about forty miles southwest of Denver, Colorado.  The site of the ceremony was a wide, grassy meadow, flanked on both sides by hills layered with golden aspens and tall, dark evergreens.  At the far northwestern end of the valley stood snow-capped Mt. Evans, which is where Jeff had proposed to Jen.  It was a perfectly gorgeous view.

 

It was also a perfect mountain day.  The azure blue sky held just enough clouds to add some pattern and a little interest.  The late afternoon sun gleamed bright and warm, but the air also had a crisp, fresh coolness - a promise of the season’s change and things to come. 

 

The ceremony was simple.  Jeff escorted both his mother and me at the same time to our seats, and his father walked Jen down the stone path to the ceremony patio.  In the middle of this lovely meadow, Jen and Jeff exchanged  “I do”s on a platform in front of seventy friends and family.  Her brother Josh officiated the ceremony, and her older sister Emily stood among the beaming (but slightly teary-eyed) bridesmaids.   I sat in the front row next to my older sister, having difficulty at first controlling my own tears.  I always cry at weddings, even of people I barely know, and this for me was of course the single most emotionally difficult wedding challenge.  Thankfully, Josh managed to relieve the tension with a few light remarks (purposefully and otherwise), and everything proceeded as wonderfully as had been intended.  

 

Immediately following the ceremony, members of the wedding party and relatives were herded toward the tree line for the official photo shoots.  Guests entertained themselves in several ways: some mingled around treats and drinks on the patio where the ceremony had taken place; some played yard games that had been set up; still others went off to explore the environs a bit, following a winding creek next to the site or making friends with a pair of horses that had also witnessed the nuptials.   Music from a solo guitar wafted through the air, creating a peaceful, easy ambience.  

 

After my turn in front of the camera was over, I stood by myself for a while, watching the picture-taking and the other guests enjoying themselves.  I felt a bit removed from everything, as if I wasn’t part of it at that point but was just taking it all in.  My feeling at the time was bittersweet; it had been difficult seeing Jenny being walked “down the aisle” by someone other than Marty.  I was feeling his absence keenly.    But at the same time I was also thinking about how well everything had turned out.  The location, weather, ceremony, the flowers, goodies and decorations in the barn for the reception, the DRESS – everything had come together in a way that had exceeded all my expectations, and I think those of Jen and Jeff, too.

 

As I reflected on the sheer pleasantness and beauty of the scene before me, I became aware of the song that the guitarist was performing.  It was Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers.”  I was suddenly filled with what I can only describe as both an overwhelming sense of happiness combined with complete serenity.   Tom Petty was one of our favorite rock musicians (we had seen him in concert three times); and these simple lyrics and melody struck me as the perfect accompaniment for the moment.  I felt as if the song had tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Listen.  Look.”

 

I glanced toward the musician, some distance away, and noticed something in the sky, moving in our direction.  I knew it was a large bird, but what kind?  When I saw the flash of white against dark brown, I knew at once that it was a bald eagle.  It continued sailing through the valley, toward where we all were.  I was dumfounded.  All I could manage to do was point to the sky and call out “Eagle!  Eagle!” to anyone within hearing distance.  But that was enough.  Others saw it at the same time, and watched as this magnificent creature glided silently overhead and down the entire valley, to the last notes of the song, until it was out of sight.   My heart could have burst, because I recognized that this was just not any eagle that happened to drop by; it was Marty.   

 

To my delight, the musician followed up “Wildflowers” with a rendition of Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon,” another of our personal favorites, which sealed the deal in my mind.  I couldn’t make my way fast enough to my brother and sisters who were near the ceremony platform.  I didn’t even need to tell them what I had read into this appearance of the eagle; they had sensed it too.  Then my brother-in-law Mike, who had been one of Marty’s favorite poker buddies, told me how earlier that afternoon he had reached into his jacket pocket and felt something.  Not knowing what he might have left there, he pulled it out.  The first thing he saw was Marty’s smiling face.  It was the memorial card saved from Marty’s funeral.   This was the first time he had worn that jacket since the day Marty was laid to rest.  Mike said that all afternoon, he had felt that Marty was somehow present. 

 

The rest of the evening was everything we had hoped it would be.  The renovated barn where the reception was held had the warm, rustic vibe that Jen and Jeff had sought, the food was great, toasts were made, the music was fun, and everyone had a good time.  It had been a long day, but all the effort had been rewarded: two families were joined as one and new memories had been made.

 

The next day I had to drop off leftover food, decorations, and gifts to Jen and Jeff.  I hadn’t talked to her at the reception about the eagle.  For one thing, she was so busy the whole time, and for another, I wasn’t sure how she would take it.  She might have thought I was silly to assign that kind of meaning to something as perfectly normal as a bird of prey passing over its usual hunting grounds in late afternoon of an autumn day.  Or it might have made her overly emotional and possibly weepy at a time when emotions were already on overload.  I didn’t want to add to any stress, so while I talked about it with probably everyone else, I hadn’t brought it up with her.

 

After we unloaded the car, Jen and I talked about how everything had gone.  Amid hugs and happy tears, the verdict: 1) expectations met and exceeded;  2) great relief over the perfect weather;  3) weren’t the pies and mini Bundt cakes delicious, and so on.  Then I had to ask about the eagle.  I couldn’t seem to muster up the right words.  So stammering like an idiot, all I could come up with was something like “….So…. did you see the ….  (pointing up)….?”

“….the eagle?” she blurted.  “Sure, and I know it was Dad!”  Then she told me than on one of her last visits, Marty had asked her to his bedside for a private talk.  He did that with each of the kids; I wasn’t in the room and I didn’t ask him or them what had been shared.  I considered that if he had a desire to speak privately with someone, then that was between them.  But as Jen and I spoke about the eagle, she told me that on the occasion of their private talk, her dad had said, “Jenny, I will be at your wedding.  I don’t know what form that might take….maybe a bird.  But I’ll be there.”

I said, “I didn’t know that!  You never told me!”

“I never told anyone.”

Then I complimented her choice of songs for the cocktail hour, mentioning how I had especially liked hearing “Wildflowers” and “Harvest Moon.”  I asked if she had included them because of Dad.  Her answer was no, that the musician himself had chosen all the songs for that part.  It was pure luck that they made the cut….or was it more?  We just looked at each other in wonder. 

 

None of us who knew and loved Marty would ever doubt that this eagle carried his spirit to us on that special day.  After all, he said he would be there.

Marty Is With Me.

September 23, 2014

I have thought of my brother every day since he died but the last 2 weeks or so, I have thought of him more than usual.  There isn’t a special date involved but maybe I am thinking of him more so because Jenny’s wedding is coming up and it is sad that Marty isn’t here to see Jenny get married  or walk her down the aisle (at least not physically).  Or maybe it is the fact that 2 years ago at this time, Bill and I, Marty and Lorraine were on vacation in Sandbridge, Virginia.  We rented a home and we enjoyed our vacation at Sandbridge, Virginia Beach and the Outer Banks in North Carolina.  It was truly a vacation that the four of us had together since we went to Las Vegas in 2001.  We have gone away for long weekends but not a vacation longer than a weekend.  I remember thinking at that time in September 2012 that we can now start planning future vacations but God had other plans for Marty.

It was the night of September 10, 2014.  I went to bed and I was thinking of Marty and I said to myself “I wish my brother was here, I wish my brother was with me” as I went to sleep.  I am not a light sleeper and it takes a lot to wake me up.  During the middle of the night as I was sleeping, I felt someone touch my shoulder very hard and I woke up startled wondering who touched me.  I have a night light on in my bedroom all the time and when I looked around my bedroom, no one was there (that I could see, that is). 

My first thought, of course, was that Marty was reassuring me that he is with me.  He will see Jenny get married and he will see everything that happens in all of our lives.  This is comforting to me and I hope that other family members will find this comforting also.  I know that Marty is with me and I know I will see him again. 

Marty, I miss you very much. 

Marty's 64th Birthday

June 14, 2014

Today, June 13 2014, would have been Marty's 64th birthday.  At his 62nd birthday it never occured to either of us that this day would never come.  This time last year we had some raised hopes that the chemo was doing its work and he was going to be able to resume a fairly normal life, if only for a few more years.


Today, however, it's been a day of highly charged mixed emotions not only for myself but for others who knew and loved Marty.  I'm glad that I had this picture of him on his birthday,  because to tell you the truth, I couldn't remember a single thing about that day.  You would think I would remember every detail, but I'm sure I blocked a lot of that because it was more than I could process.  While it does my heart good to see his smiling face, it also brings unbearable sadness because he should still be here, smiling and laughing for real and not just in a photo or a memory.   


I know this is all a part of the nature of grief and grieving, so I accept it.  But just for today, I'm lodging my complaint with the universe and wishing he could have been here (and been healthy) for many more birthdays.  

Martin Getty - Tormentor...to Mentor

March 5, 2014
Being Martin’s child wasn’t always easy. There were times when each child was convinced he was their worst nightmare: completely unfair, far too harsh, and plain unreasonable. Mark Twain once said, “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around...." From the time Emily was in junior high until well into her 20s, she and Marty butted heads on almost every social, political, religious, and unimportant issue possible. At one point during her high school years, she was told the reason they didn’t get along was because they were too much alike. Of course that was just crazy. If they were so much alike, why couldn’t they agree on almost anything? After a while all the arguments, angry words, and punishments put a heavy strain on their relationship leaving both to wonder if it could ever be repaired. Then there’s Jen, who spent just as much time during her teenage years being grounded as not. As it is for so many young adults, it was easier to oppose her parents and have the fun she wanted to have rather than accept “No” for an answer and behave “appropriately”. One typical teenage rebellion ended with a pretty harsh punishment for a 17 year old girl: Jen was not allowed to go to her own senior prom. *Pause* Incidentally, that very dress is STILL hanging in a closet in the house on Olympia Drive, unworn since it was tried on in 2000. When Josh was 10 years old, he was invited to THE concert of the year. Bruce Springsteen was on his Born in the USA tour in 1985, but instead of being allowed to earn some major “cool points” with his friends, he had to visit his dad, step-mom and two little sisters all the way in Illinois. Absolutely no ifs, ands, or buts. For a 10 year old, there ARE no other concerts; there’s only this one chance to see The Boss live and he absolutely could not go. He could kiss his budding social life goodbye! Twain’s remark about his father continues, "...But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years." Fast forward 12 years to a phone call between Marty and his son about college and options. Halfway through pharmacy school, Josh wasn’t sure he was headed in the right direction. The two talked at length about what that would mean for Josh moving forward. What were his alternatives? What did he want to do and how did he want his life to look? At the end of the conversation, without Marty explicitly spelling out the “right” answer, Josh knew the decision he had to make. Their relationship was like a wave on a lake: easy and calm, slow and steady, and never too extreme. Moving to Colorado was the biggest decision Jennifer ever had to make. Without her father’s support she more than likely wouldn't have had the confidence to take such a major step. She moved to Denver with no job, no friends, no family and people thought she was crazy. Instead of giving her every reason why she would fail, Marty’s response was, “Ok? How are you going to do that?” He encouraged her to figure out how to make her dream happen and supported her efforts to achieve it. Jen’s relationship with her father was much more like an ocean wave: sometimes rough and stormy, but always with a strong current that eventually evened out and flowed smoothly. But by far the most remarkable transformation occurred when Emily reached her mid-20s. As it turns out, her high school teacher had been right all along - she and Marty were more alike than she realized. What the teenager saw as stubborn and rigid, the adult recognized as experience and wisdom. The last 5-6 years were really the best as they respected each other’s differences and didn’t let them interfere with their relationship. The majority of the change rested with Emily, but Marty met her in the middle – they finally started understanding each other. Their dynamic was a tsunami: huge tidal wave swells and dangerous undertows. But instead of destroying them, it ended up bringing them closer together. Because of Marty’s completely reliable guidance, all three of his children give their friends and colleagues advice based on "What would Dad suggest?" His thought process was so thorough that they could always count on him to have already come up with all the variables, potential outcomes, and optimal solutions. They could also rely on him to deliver his guidance in the form of asking all the right probing questions and then trusting them to think critically for themselves and follow their heart. Joshua, Emily and Jennifer all heard the famous line, “Here’s what I think…but you have to make your own decision.” Now, thanks to his unwavering patience, support, and love, they have become his legacy of better thinkers, better friends, better people, and for that, they will honor and thank him every day.

My Brother, Marty,

March 4, 2014

My one word description for my brother, Marty, is “PERFECT”.

The Marty that everyone knew as a man was exactly what he was like as a little boy, “PERFECT”.

He was the “PERFECT” baby, he hardly ever cried and he slept a lot.  (He was the complete opposite of his big sister.)  In fact, my Aunt Connie would say to my mother,” turn his head, it is going to be flat on one side because of all the sleeping.   I think that was the beginning of his napping.

Marty was the “PERFECT” little boy.  He never got in trouble with our parents (he was the complete opposite of his big sister).  We were on vacation and I got in trouble with my parents and was not allowed to be with everyone at the bonfire for the marshmallow roast.  I had to stay in the bedroom in the cabin.  My little brother who was only 5 at the time, sneaked inside the cabin to bring me a roasted marshmallow.  I think that was the beginning of his thoughtful and loving ways.

Marty was the “PERFECT” student.  I graduated from high school the year Marty entered high school.  When he went to classes that I had in school with the same teachers, they would say “Oh we thought you would be like your sister” (again he was the complete opposite of his big sister).  I’m not saying that I was bad in school but I wasn’t like my brother, Marty, “PERFECT”. 

To me, Marty from his birth until the end, was “PERFECT”.

There has never been and will never be another person in my lifetime like my brother.  He was always there for not only me and our entire family, but for his many friends over the years.  I have never met a more kind, generous, thoughtful, unselfish, helpful, understanding, caring and loving person than my brother. 

Until we meet in Heaven, Rest in Peace my dear brother.  I love you.  Sandra

 

 

Submitted by Patricia Getty Sinwelski - Cousin To Cousin

February 27, 2014

To Marty,

Cousin to Cousin
We'll always be,
Special Friends
From the Same
Family Tree.

I Love You,

Trish

Written by Patricia Getty Sinwelski - More like Brother and Sister, than Cousins

February 27, 2014

The reason I say more like brother and sister than cousins is...our mothers were sisters and our fathers were brothers.  You cannot get any closer than that.  Marty and I grew up together.  We were very close.  We were always at each other’s house.  I am one year older than Marty, so he is my little cousin.   

Marty was always there for family when they needed him.  I know it was the same for his many, many friends.  He was one of those people who was just "a good guy".  I can remember many funny stories about us growing up.  I used to spend the night at his house often.  One time his sister, Sandra, and I were in her bed talking like two young girls do.  We were listening to the radio which was on the floor.  All of a sudden the station changed and Sandra and I screamed.  Well, we woke up my aunt and uncle.  All of a sudden we heard a laugh.  It was Marty lying under the bed just waiting for us to get comfortable.  He thought it would be funny to scare us by changing the stations on the radio.  We were really scared.  I remember my aunt and uncle getting a little upset with Sandra and me, and all along it was Marty that caused all the commotion. He always asked me if I remembered every Saturday when we were young.  He would come to my house and go to the movie at the show near my house.  I remember another story very well. I did not go to college even though I graduated sixth in my class.  Since Marty always considered education very important, he would tell me that not going to college was a waste of a good brain. There are many other stories, and I could keep going on and on.

Marty loved to play poker.  After he retired, he would often come to my house to go to the Hard Rock Casino to play.  Living in Florida, the casino is near us.  Whenever he visited, he would tease me by saying he didn’t come to see me, but just to play poker. Talking about poker reminds me of when our families would get together to play cards.  When Marty was here on his visits, he would say that he was the only kid sitting on his Mother's lap with the grownups playing cards with them. Oh, how I treasure those visits now.  Marty loved my dog and when he visited, he would try to put her in his suitcase.  Like I said, I could go on and on with the wonderful stories Marty and I shared.  Even, when we were grown, we still saw each other a lot.  If only I could see him still to grow old together.  It is just way too early for him to be gone.  I know he was suffering and I do get a little comfort knowing he is at Peace and no pain any longer.

When my mother was in the nursing home, he and Lorraine never failed to send cards to her often.  Also, on every holiday, there would be flowers for my Mom from Marty and Lorraine.  Like I said before, he was just that kind of person.  I just wish I was more like him.

Well, my cousin, (brother), I have so many wonderful memories of you and they will keep me somewhat happy until I will join you in Heaven.  I know you are with your mother and father, Aunt Connie (my Mother), Grandpap, Sonny, Mick and my brother, Benny.

My Dear Cousin, (Brother), Marty, I love you and I know we will see each other again.  In Jesus Name, Rest In Peace.

 I Love You,

Trish

 

Policy manual

February 27, 2014
Believe me, I could tell lots and lots of stories regarding Marty. We had such great times together. Many of those times revolved around golf outings with Gary Matteson and a group from Crawford County early on. After I accepted the job of Principal and Watseka High School, the golf continued. When I returned to Hutsonville as Superintendent, we still got together and played occasionally. At least annually, Marty and Tom Strong arranged for a home and away golf match pitting Tom and Marty vs. Tom Miller and myself. It was always a great day filled with fun, competition, friendship and perhaps a side bet or two. I have not mentioned Marty's love for cards. I can't begin to add up the hours we spent playing cards. But this story is about work. Marty and I enjoyed a terrific working relationship. We were very different in many ways. At times, there were very intense discussions regarding education issues. He was the best budget guy I have ever known in the education business for sure. He was also very detailed about making sure the Unit 9 Policy Manual was up to date. He would assign the Unit 9 Principals certain chapters of the HUGE Unit 9 Policy Manual as reading between monthly administrator meetings. This policy manual was, as I remember, about one million pages long and weighed at least 200 pounds. Anyway, the assignment was to read various Chapters of this Policy Manual and return each month with comments. He wanted to make sure our manual was the most updated, accurate and practical as possible. I did not like to carry that Policy Manual around and conveniently "forgot" it the first couple of times we performed the monthly reviews. Let me interject here that Marty also levied various fines at the administrative meetings when he felt any of the Principals had committed a violation. There were not exactly written violations. A violation was what Marty deemed to be a violation. The fine was levied for whatever and the payment was made into a "bank". The bank was one of these promotional items that looked like a quart of oil. This particular bank was some Pennsylvania Oil Company. Well, I was "fined" a quarter the second time I "forgot" my Policy Manual. That seemed like a good deal to me. So, I took out a five dollar bill, stuffed it in the oil can bank and declared that I was paid up for the next 20 meetings. Marty shot me a look. Needless to say, I had the Policy Manual with me the next meeting. I did lose my five dollars. The "rest of the story" is that a few years later, when Marty left Watseka for Decatur, he decided to have a little dinner with his administrative team at that time. He broke open the bank to sponsor the luncheon and there was the five dollar bill amongst the change. He called me on the spot. I loved that guy, he was a dear friend and a great mentor.

Sandra and Marty - Big Sister, Little Brother

February 26, 2014

I was exactly 3 and 1/2 years old when my little brother Marty, was born.  You see, I was born December 13, 1946 and Marty came along June 13, 1950.  Just the two of us to complete our family of four.  My little brother had dark brown hair and I had blond hair.  He had dimples, I didn't.  I didn't think that was fair that he had dimples and not me but even with the differences in our looks, we were brother and sister through and through.
   
I remember Marty and I playing together in Lincoln Place in the early 1950's.  Our mother use to tell me to watch out for him when we were outside.  "Take care of your brother," she would say.  That's one thing that I did do.  I took care of him.  As we got older and moved to West Mifflin, again, I watched out for him and took care of him.  Growing up, Marty wasn't very tall and if any boys tried to bully him, he would say "I'm going to tell my sister" and he did and I was there defending him in any way I could. 

Growing up, I was there for him and when Marty became a man, our roles were reversed.  Now the Little Brother was there for the Big Sister. If I had a problem, no matter what it was, I knew I could call Marty and he would be there for me.  

Even though Marty moved in 1973 to Illinois, he was only a phone call away.  If you needed him, without hesitation, he would say, okay, I'm coming to Pittsburgh.  He was a kind, gentle, caring, giving, loving  man who would do things for you and never expect anything in return.  Marty and I were very close, it started when I was 3 and 1/2 years old and never stopped.  I was lucky, fortunate, priviledged and honored to have had him for my brother. 

Now, I am the last one from how it all began on June 13, 1950, when Marty joined Elmer, Angeline and Sandra, to make our family of four complete.           

   

     


    

Marty and Lorraine – We Had a Wonderful Life

February 26, 2014

Marty was many things to many people, as the stories, tributes and memorials left on this website will attest: son, brother, cousin, father, teacher, coach, mentor, buddy, confidante, boss, co-worker, partner, teammate, ally, advisor, advocate.  He was many things to me as well: one of the nicest, funniest, most interesting people I knew.  But most of all, he was my best friend, and the brightest, most radiant source of joy in my life.   

We’re different people in many ways.   He was more cautious (maybe careful is the right word),  eager to try out each new techno gadget, with a great mind for numbers.   He was outgoing and sociable, at ease with people.    Marty was a strong decision maker.  He possessed the ability to process information, connect the dots and extrapolate the big picture within moments.

I’m a little more adventurous (let’s face it, I can take “oopsy” to the next level), dislike and have difficulty learning new technology, and can’t do math in my head.    I like people, but am not as outgoing and am much more comfortable being alone than he was.  My decision-making process can lead me in many directions at once.  My connecting-the-dots is just as likely to produce the likeness of Hello Kitty rather than a simple path from point A to Point Z, and the farthest-reaching implications may still elude me after a long period of thought.  

Marty was direct and to-the-point.  I tend to dance around the point, then make the point, then restate the point, often with literary allusions, metaphors. clever references and wordplay.  I’m wordy, in case you haven’t already noticed (keep reading - you will).

I never could get into playing cards or golf, and he didn’t enjoy taking long walks or bicycling.  Marty’s pastimes involved skill, thought and competition.  My pastimes involve not having to think too hard or be precise, with no pressure to win; I only have to “be.”  His idea of the perfect campfire included a group of people, lots of conversation and classic rock music.  Mine is few people, occasional conversation, and the sounds of nocturnal creatures and the rustle of leaves through the trees.  His favorite movies were romantic comedies and action spy thrillers.  Mine are broad, farce comedies and human interest stories that make me cry.

The thing is, in the grand scheme of things, those differences didn’t amount to much.  They certainly never divided us; they simply defined who we are as individuals.   Would we have liked it more if we would have shared in the enjoyment of cards, golf, hiking and biking?  I’m certain of it.   But we were already happy together and didn’t require each other to change in order to be happier. 

I’d also have to say that some of our differences were part of the attraction we felt for each other.  We admired and appreciated them because they brought new things into view, enhanced and broadened our horizons.   We learned from each other.

What mattered most in our relationship wasn’t what we didn’t do, but what we did do, and how we felt around each other, day in and day out.  And that was pretty good.  Despite different talents and interests, our personalities were perfectly matched.    We shared similar temperaments, egos, values, perspectives,  hopes, and sense of humor.  Our time together just felt natural and right. 

That’s not to say we didn’t sometimes have to work at the relationship.  But the “work” part of our marriage usually didn’t feel like work, and was always well worth the effort.  Compromises were made when needed and disagreements resolved.  Then they fell by the wayside and remained in the past forever.

Marty was the best part of my life.  He made every day special, and I couldn’t have asked for a more compatible life partner.  So it’s with the heaviest of hearts that I find myself facing the future without my closest friend and life mate, gone much too soon.  There will never be another like him.

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