This title is not hype. It is fact, or at least as I see it.
31 years ago right now, give or take an hour or two, depending on your time zone, Mrs. Translator and I were wedded. Although she may, I have no regret, not a single one.
Her name is not to be said, to preserve her privacy, and she was an an extremely lovely girl, only 17 when we met (I was barely 19). We hit it off right away, and although I had dated other women (well, girls at that age), she was different. Very, very different.
Aside from being beautiful (and she still is), she was different. She was sort of reserved, and, as I found out later, very, very depressed. Her boyfriend had been killed in a horrible car wreck, and that affected her greatly.
Her parents took her to the doctor, and he prescribed impiramine (Elavil) to combat the depression that she held over the death of her boyfriend. Out of respect for her, I will not use his name. She reads this blog.
Just after we met, and had not even held hands, she took a massive dose of the drug. I do not know why, but who knows what a 17 year old has in his or her mind? Her parents, to their credit, rushed her to hospital and she was fine a couple of days later. At the time, she was just a very casual acquaintance of mine. I did not know her as a person, just as a very attractive and troubled girl.
Time went by at its determined rate, and we started visiting and talking more. She was not her own person at the time, thanks to whom we thought was our mutual friend, but actually a minuplitive, sadistic, selfish fiend. I found out later that he was the one manipulating her negative emotions, and decided to break that bond. It happened slowly, because his second wife was actually a very nice person at the time, and, after leaving him, still is. But that is beside the point.
She started to get better emotionally, and I understand the horrible blow to her because of the car crash that took her boyfriend's life. I do not think that she will ever completely get it out of her mind, and I say hooray, because to forget those who are close to you is wrong. I will say that it does not plague her every minute of every day, and after 33 years, probably not even once a month, but that is speculation. I am not a part of her mind, because she is an independent, self contained person. But I can imagine, based on our conversations over three decades.
She is the mother of my children, and she is wonderful. The children love their mother, as I do. I guess this sounds a bit silly, but I really love Mrs. Translator. Warmest regards, Doc.
Update: I meant to publish this on 18 June, our anniversary. It did not happen, but I thought that it should not be lost. She is wonderful, I am barely tolerable, if that much. The boys are wonderful. The eldest is just about ready to be graduated from college, the youngest one is getting to be a junior, and the middle one is getting better over his very serious defect in his back, and the major surgery associated with it. He may be the most amusing of the three, because he has a wonderful sense of humor. Warmest regards, Doc.