I, Who Have Left You: A Lover's Memoir - Softcover

Freeman, Susan

Softcover

ISBN 10: 146979182X ISBN 13: 9781469791821

Verlag: iUniverse, 2012

Inhaltsangabe

In a cloth-covered box, the physical treasures of Susan Freeman's life quietly stand as a monument to love. The box contains letters she and her husband, Leslie, wrote to one another over a span of twenty-seven years. The first one, dated 1975, was written by Susan during her days working on a farm in North Dakota. The last one, dated April 12, 2002, was written by Leslie on the day he committed an act of self-deliverance to escape the final ravages of cancer. But their story doesn't end with his physical death. Six months after he passed away, Susan received a channeled message that began "I, who have left you" . . . They have a spiritual connection that allows them to communicate between dimensions. Susan's memoir shares their story, their letters, and messages from the other side. Susan Freeman has written a memoir that speaks to the deepest longing in every heart-to know that love cannot and never does die. The promise her husband, Leslie, made to her before his passing has come true. He promised he would never leave her. He has communicated to her from "the outer realm" through a clairaudient who could never know the details of their twenty-seven year odyssey. In long, lyrical letters over a nine-year period, Leslie revisits details of their exotic travels in Arabia, refers to gifts he gave her, and constantly reassures her of his presence and his love of her through lifetimes. "There are only three things you need fear", he tells her. "Not being able to love, closing yourself off, and holding on too tightly to the past". This book is a rare and inspiring gift of spirit. -Gail Carr Feldman PhD, author, Midlife Crash Course: The Journey From Crisis To Full Creative Power

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Susan Freeman is a chaplain and teacher of clinical pastoral education (ACPE Certified Educator) at a hospital home health agency serving San Diego County. Prior to her current position, she served as a hospice chaplain for many years. Rabbi Freeman is the author of Teaching Hot Topics (2003) and Teaching Jewish Virtues: Sacred Sources and Art Activities (1999) and has published several articles in professional journals.

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I, WHO HAVE LEFT YOU

A Lover's MemoirBy Susan Freeman

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Susan Freeman
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4697-9182-1

Contents

Prologue.................................................xiUp on the Farm...........................................1A Courtship of Letters...................................31Arabia...................................................65Letters from the Land of Enchantment.....................91Stage IV.................................................109The Passing of a Star....................................133Soul Encounters..........................................147Acknowledgments..........................................179

Chapter One

Up on the Farm

Susan Freeman to Sylvie Frank, July 2010

My dear Sylvie,

Congratulations! A graduate of Wellesley, no less. You join a prestigious group of women who have "made a difference in the world," to quote the website. I number you among them already, Sylvie. I think back to the last time I saw your dad, and he told me how amazing he thought you were, such an admirable person. He didn't say "beautiful"; he didn't have to, for that is prima facie. Know I will always care for you. I love you because of who you are, who you will become, and because you are the grandchild of my beloved Leslie and daughter of his beloved Martha.

Not too often, for it is emotional, I look back at Freeman family photos. There is one of your Grandpa Leslie holding you for the first time. How proud he would be of you, Sylvie.

He was quite taken with turquoise and would have approved of my choice of a gift to commemorate your graduation. When I part from this worldly plane, I will leave you the gold bracelet your grandfather gave me as a wedding gift.

Armed with a degree, world travels, broken hearts (others hopefully, not yours), internal and external beauty, many who love and admire you, may the life you create be a successful one. Enjoy life as you live it. A simple platitude, true, but it does take concerted effort to live in the present moment.

May your joys, your accomplishments, and the loves you have had and will have far outnumber the sorrows and grief you will undoubtedly experience.

Susan

Sylvie to Susan, September 15, 2010

Dear Susan,

Thank you for the lovely necklace, the kind words, and the thoughts of my grandfather. I can't believe how long it has been since I last saw you and how much has happened since. I have been living in New York City for the past month, working as an editorial assistant for a publishing house. I love my job, my life in the city, and being in a position to make new friends. Tonight, I am hosting my first dinner party.

If you have time, please tell me more about Grandpa Leslie and your life together. I think of you both often.

Love, Sylvie

Susan to Sylvie, October 10, 2010

Dear Sylvie,

You know me as an older, proper lady, given to fits of everything in its place, and in a certain order—in short, analretentive. Would it surprise you that when I was thirty-six, I was told by the American consul general to Saudi Arabia that I reminded him of a nun who didn't wear underwear? Or that somewhere in the mountains of California, my name is inscribed in a book of motorcycle riders who reached the summit of a steep mountain pass?

You probably don't know that I was married to a man named Stewart Gillon before I married your grandfather or that your grandfather and I wrote letters to one another over a twenty-seven-year span. Before I share our letters with you, I'll tell you about my life before Leslie.

I think that most of us want to believe in magical tales of love and romance, even as cynical and realistic as we have become. We want to believe that the girl will find the boy of her dreams and live happily ever after. My dream man was tall, slender, and smart, and he loved me as I loved him. I knew that someday he would find me. Maybe girls like me were prone to be dreamers.

There was just one boyfriend during my high school years. This was during the sixties in Southern California. Popular girls were slim with straight blonde hair. Mine was short and wavy brown, subject to frizz on a foggy morn. The music of my youth was the Beach Boys and the Beatles, but I preferred classical. I sang in the church choir, and the director ushered me to the back row with the instructions "don't try so hard."

By the time my teens ended, my unknown dream man had not found me. Instead, there was Stewart Gillon, whom I met on New Year's Eve 1967. I was nineteen; he was twenty-seven. He was a practical joker, and I learned how to have a good time. He taught me to handle and shoot firearms, ride dirt bikes in the California desert, and drink beer. Years later, someone asked me why I married him; it was because he made me laugh.

Two days before our wedding, groundskeepers aerated and spread manure around the church lawn, a portentous sign of our life together.

Ever-agreeable at the time, I feigned excitement for our honeymoon, which was spent deer hunting in Utah. Our bridal suite was a blue tent equipped with Coleman's finest and decorated with an inflatable Heinz ketchup bottle, a bit of color amid the snow. I never told Stewart that I saw several deer pass within yards of our tent without raising my .243 Remington bolt-action rifle. Our marriage might have ended then.

When I married Stewart, I was committed to him emotionally and mentally, but I didn't feel any physical passion. I didn't know what passion was. A few months before our wedding, I had the sinking feeling that I was making a mistake. In the back of my mind, I realized that I had given up finding my dream man. After we married, I quit college and went to work.

The first four years of our marriage were fun. Stewart worked for a food manufacturer, and I worked for two ministers, riding to work on my bicycle, miniskirt over my jeans. Several times, we made treks to Stewart's parents' farm in northeastern North Dakota. I liked the prairie and the half hours Stewart's dad, Pappy, let me spend driving his tractor to cultivate the summer fallow. When Pappy had a heart attack early in 1973, Stewart and I went back to put in the crop. The fun half hours were now long days, and the appeal waned. We had just moved to the South Bay area of Southern California and purchased a small condo. Upon our return from helping Pappy, I looked for a new job.

On June 14, 1973, your grandfather interviewed me for a job. After all these years, I remember what he wore, how I thought that, even if I never saw him again, I would never forget him. He was the dream man I hadn't waited for, sitting right there in front of me.

These were years before my name had the BS after it. I worked as a clerk in one of the ten offices of a regional medical facility. Leslie (Mr. Freeman to me) was the regional administrator and visited our office twice a month. I eagerly anticipated these late-afternoon visits and always stood by the window to watch him as he walked to his car. In time, I became a troubleshooter for the facilities, training new office staff and writing office procedure manuals. Occasionally, I accompanied Mr. Freeman on day trips to one or more of the facilities.

One August day in 1974, I joined him on a trip to Santa Barbara, and it was then that I knew I loved him. The first time he assisted me out of his car, lightly touching my back, the sparks flew. I had no idea then if I was the only one who felt it or whether he was conscious of it also. Truly,...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: iUniverse
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2012
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 146979182X
• ISBN 13: 9781469791821
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 194
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: KreGa Onlinehandel GmbH; 4950000000000; info@krega-onlinehandel.de; ; Birkenweg 31; Brakel; 33034; Deutschland