Showing sad stories for tag "age"

Oh, why, baby, why?

Cuevas, Cesar

As the decades pass, I still recall the wonderful memories I shared with my wife. As a matter of fact, I still smell her scent and feel her sense of life in this very room where we shared our love. And yes, dammit, I still call her my wife. I loved her as much as one being can love another! I'm sixty-nine years old; she died when I was thirty-four. As it stands, I still remember the painful night my lover left me. . . It was a night filled with peculiarities; my sister gave birth prematurely, my car- which had never failed me- wasn't igniting, and on top of this, my wife was nagging me. "Honey," she said, "go see your sister. You're family. You have to go." I didn't want to because it was a 4-hour drive, and my car wasn't even starting! "Look," I said, "the car... [Read More]