Tonight I saw a photograph of My Captain that had been posted on the Facebook page, In Memory of Carlos Alfaro Sr. and Jr.
Over a hundred and fifty photos taken by Carlos over the years were lovingly displayed by his family, and out of them I found this gem of my husband. I don’t know the year of it, but it’s OLD, I can tell you that!
As I gazed at it, I went through a veritable bevy of unexpected emotions. I’m hoping you can help me sort them out, since we’re friends and all. In no certain order, here are the demons that plague me:
Lust: …because hell, look at him. Who wouldn’t. A smile like that…good night!
Happy: …how can you look at a picture of such a happy person like that and not smile?
Grateful: …that he’s mine, that he hasn’t died in any of the thousands of situations that could have killed him in over 30 years of firefighting (he started when he was 16!).
Jealous:…that I didn’t know him then, or experience all of his interesting heroics with him.
Angry:…that I missed so much time with him. Why…WHY did I have to meet him so late in our lives?
Furious…that he never knew me skinny, or not-exhausted, or without facial hair.
Sad:…that all that time is past, never to be seen again.
Amazed:….is that hair on his head???!!!
Most people would look at an old picture of their husband and chuckle or smile. Most people would continue with their day, go on to lead normal lives.
Me, I go into a full-blown emotional melt-down. And then I write about it publicly. In excruciating detail. With embarrassing frankness, and apparently no shame.
It’s hard to be me sometimes. Don’t judge.
But seriously, is that hair???!!
I like him better the way he is now. All wisdom and strength and just as virile as he must have been then.
He’s the BOMB. My utter and complete Beloved. I’m entirely blessed.
But I’m still pissed that he never knew me skinny.