When you’re facing a devastating loss, your partner becomes much more than a significant other -- he becomes your anchor. That was most definitely the case eleven years ago, when dashing, noble Brit David came into my life a few months before my mother passed away.
The friend of a college’s friend husband, David had contacted me at his suggestion when he moved to NYC. The chemistry between us was immediate, and we quickly fell into a relationship. I now Open The Vault and take you back to the summer of ‘98...
August 9, 1998
New York, NY
David is the nicest guy I’ve met in ages. He’s charming, funny, affectionate and -- hoorah! -- British. And he takes me away from the pain of Mom’s illness.
I waited until I got back from my recent trip to London to confide in David about what is happening to her. He could not have been more supportive or understanding.
David is a thousand times more fun and uncomplicated than the baggage-laden older men I’ve usually attracted to. Then again, it’s only been two months. He could develop three heads or never call me again. With my track record, I’m prepared for anything…I think.
* * *
August 24, 1998
David is so wonderful -- everything I’ve wanted in a man for so long. The first guy who is not only good to me but good for me. No ex wives, no kids, no tortured background.
He’s continually coming up with ways to make me smile (cute emails, gifts, flowers). For two months now, his track record has been a very good one. He’s seeing me at my worst and yet he hasn’t run scared or pulled back. Part of me wouldn’t blame him if he did.
* * *
David remained steadfast, and our bond continued to deepen, as my mother’s condition deteriorated. Our love, however, would be put to the test by the return of an old flame -- at the worst possible time.