The Final Paragraph for Eva and Me

Eva and me on our wedding day in January of 1967.

My first wife, Eva Marie Senne, died early this morning following a stay in hospice in Asheville. My daughter let me know and I was sadder than I thought I would be.

Jennie at 16, some years ago.

Eva, who was probably the most beautiful woman I ever knew, and I had a brief marriage when we were quite young (I was 20, she was 19), and the only truly positive outcome was the birth of our daughter, Jenniffer. 

Neither of us was ready to be a parent and when the marriage inevitably failed, I was left with Jennie to raise. I did not do a good job, but Jennie is fine (and looks so much like her mom), thanks to her own grit and determination.

After many years, Jennie finally found her mother and made contact. During the last months of Eva's life, they became close, laughed a lot, and appeared happy. I was delighted about that. 

Jennie even sent me a video of her and Eva laughing and called me at one point and had Eva and I speak to each other. It was a genuinely tender moment and Eva, who had a form of dementia at the end, delicately touched the screen where my face had been. I nearly cried, though I did not know this woman and had not seen her for more than 50 years.

Death is so final. I wish there were more to her life. I'm sorry, Eva, and I wish you the very best if there is an afterlife.