Jo called me yesterday morning, to wish me a (belated) happy birthday. It was actually still the right date where she was calling from, eight time zones west of us.
Jo is my previous (and second) wife, and since our divorce about fifteen years ago we have remained very good friends. I lived with her for twenty-five years, we brought up my two children from a previous marriage and the two boys from our own. She keeps me up to date with those members of our family or friends that I don’t hear from much, tells me what she has been up to and what her life is like these days. She loves choral singing and sings in at least three choirs, and some of the music is quite demanding. I do miss the singing I used to do when I lived in England, there isn’t that opportunity here
A few years after leaving me, and after one or two false starts, Jo fell in love with a lovely man, a retired mining engineer a couple of years older than me and sixteen years older than her. She moved in with him and became his devoted partner. Two years ago he fell dead on the golf course while enjoying a round with his friends. He left Jo his very serviceable house, which has been a great blessing to her. Jo has remained a widow since.
Rosie and I visited Jo and her man while we were in England on the only occasion we have travelled there since I came to this country in 1991. They were very friendly and hospitable to us, I am glad to have met them both together, and glad that Jo had those years of fulfilment with him.