The Widder Curry’s Tribute to Her Late Husband, Bob

By Judi Curry

Ten years ago today my Irish husband of 46 years, Bob Curry, passed away from the ravages of Lung Cancer.  He was a smoker for 30 years; he stopped smoking for 30 years.

Before he passed away he said to me that “ . . . if I had known I was going to die of lung cancer I never would have quit smoking.”  He missed it every single day. (Strange that he never said to me that he would never have started smoking!)

Supposedly as time passes on, so does the ache of death, and perhaps that is true because it is not with me all the time anymore.  But hardly a day goes by that I don’t miss him in some small way.  His smile; his Irish humor; his changing a fluorescent light bulb; etc.

I went with my widow support group to see a “Medium” with the hopes of contacting him in another world.  That didn’t work out, but I have heard from former students, and even a good friend, that he has been in contact with them.

A student from Korea told me that he walked her down the aisle, speaking Korean all the time. A Japanese student told me that he held her baby even before her husband did, and he was speaking Japanese to her.  I suggested to both of them that they tell him to come back to San Diego and speak some English to me, but either they didn’t tell him or he decided he liked Asia better!

And so, on this anniversary of his death I will make an Irish Coffee for both of us.  If he doesn’t come around to drink his I will have to drink it also. (Wouldn’t want it to go to waste!)  I will reminisce about the good times – and try to forget the bad times, because there were some bad times.

And I will thank him for buying our house in Point Loma; for teaching the kids how to water ski, fish, and enjoy camping.  I will remember our camping trips to Tony’s Camp in Mexico; our trips to Canada; our climbing the pyramids in the Yucatan; our years in Lake Havasu; our introduction to 4 seasons in Maine; our experiences at the Berkeley Bowl when we lived in the Bay Area, etc.

And as the tremendous loneliness again surfaces, I will knock it down with the thoughts that he is where he is – never to be seen again – and I am still here, looking for that companion, still able to enjoy that glass of Irish Coffee!  I miss you Bob, but I’m not yet ready to join you.  RIP, my Irishman.  And stay out of Asia!