I found this picture of Myrna and Annie, our Springer Spaniel, while I was cleaning my bedroom. Both long gone to the next world. This is not one of Myrna’s glamour pictures. No makeup.

I’m often advised to let go of the past. Probably good advice. The trouble with advice is that it's easy to give, and not so easy to act upon. There isn’t a whole lot of future ahead of me. My world is full of ghosts. Late at night, out here in the mountains, I stand outside and try to locate Myrna. The sky is pitch black… no ambient light. She is here.
As my friends have advised me, I’ve tried to move on. I’ve pretty much given up on women. The problem, of course, is me. What’s the point? I will compare every woman to Myrna, and other women don’t stand a chance in hell of measuring up to her.
I’m playing out the string and doing the best I can. Living for the grandchildren yet to be born. Volunteering to help out in the community where I can. Trying to pay my bills and to remain independent. I'm even thinking of getting another doggie. But, my best days are long gone.
Myrna and I used to sing this Willie Nelson song, “My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys:”
Cowboys are special with their own brand of misery
From being alone too long
You could die from the cold in the arms of a nightmare,
Knowin' well that your best days are gone
Pickin' up hookers instead of my pen
I let the words of my youth fade away
Old worn-out saddles, and 'old worn-out memories
With no one and no place to stay
My heroes have always been cowboys
And they still are, it seems
Sadly, in search of, but one step in back of
Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams
Sadly, in search of, but one step in back of
Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams
I was so angry with my father when he was old and dying. I wanted him to keep fighting, to keep trying. But, at some point he just withdrew into silence and defeat. And now I understand. This is the battle that cannot be won.
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