Resuming the Story

Happy New Year to you and welcome back to the story of me and Andrew over a spontaneous lunch at Kentucky Fried Chicken. You may recall that the last event I posted was when he cleared the lunch table contents between us and took my hands in his. I had just told him about my young husband Henry's death in Viet Nam in 1968. 

That's where I'll start. 

After I recovered from Andrew's kind, tender holding of my hands as I wept, I said, "And maybe even worse. Henry's parents turned against me over an insurance policy. They were so angry I thought they might harm me. That's when my own PTSD began, fearing they might blow my brains out. I was not far off the mark when I learned his father was an alcoholic and owned an arsenal of guns. 

Has fear ever gripped you to the point of illness?  I hope not.