Football Season is Here

Football season in our state started at the end of August. DH was a BIG football fan, having played while in high school, and done public address and radio work for several local teams. We watched college games together every Saturday (while he wore his favorite team cap, that would be thrown across the room when things weren't going well), and listened to games that weren't being broadcast. Actually, he liked his favorite team's radio announcers better than any of the television broadcasters, so many times we turned down the volume on the television and listened to the radio guys. That was always interesting, since the radio guys were usually a few seconds ahead of the television...

When I was a child, there was only one television in our house, and my father controlled what was watched. You could either watch a football game with him (college or professional, and he had a very logical--to him--system of picking which team he favored in a particular game), or you could move to another room. Therefore, my sister and I grew up rather familiar with the game, and the players. After DH and I met, he was frequently impressed by my knowledge of the game...with one exception. He made the mistake of asking me if I knew what a safety is, what a touch back is, and there was one other question that I can't recall. I laughed, and called my father to tell him that DH had insulted my upbringing!

Fall has always been one of my favorite seasons, but this one has started off rather bittersweet. I think I am coming out of the state of shock that started with DH's death and funeral. So much time was taken up with things that had to be done, legally and personally, and now that most of those details are handled, I have moved to a new stage of my grief. I have wonderful, supportive friends and family, but sometimes I just have to sit and cry until I can't breathe. I ask God all sorts of questions, but I know I won't get answers until I see Him face to face. When my friend's husband died five years ago, her doctor wanted her to see a therapist who charged $125/hour, and was sixty miles away. All of her friends at school told her that we thought we could provide the same service for free, and one of our male teachers (one of the finest men I know...and I should know, since I taught him when he was thirteen!) told her that he'd come watch television with her for $5/hour, and let her be in charge of the remote! Now I suppose it's my turn for the therapy.

As my mother said, onward and upward...