The Widower’s Rant: Another Date Passes

A nice mid-winter diversion. Lauren set up an excellent holiday for us all in the Caribbean. When I say “us all,” that’s L/D and C/R. And another eight of her buddies. Yup, 13 of us hanging out, doing beach things.

I did a lot of this for a change:

Uncharacteristically, I spent hours relaxing on the beach and by the pool. Read, nap, swim, rinse and repeat. I’ve never been successful in doing that for more than a few minutes before. And it was great. When my tan fades, I might have to go out again to recharge the Vitamin D batteries. 

I stopped through Miami to hang out with K/M on my way back. A few more relaxing days. K and I had a day on our own. It reminded me of the year we were both in Davis after Beth graduated and moved back to Corona del Mar. Then, a nasty bout of Norovirus sidelined me for the last day. I have not been this sick since, I can’t remember when. Being ill at a friend’s house is awkward at best. I mostly slept when I wasn’t doing unscheduled colonoscopy prep. Like Hans Brinker, loperamide plugged the dike to make the flights home the next day, and then it took a few more days before I started to feel human again. Being sick in and of itself is awful. Being sick, alone, is terrible. Riding it out in an empty house truly sucked. I felt so alone. In an upside-down way, I was lucky that my first significant illness came when I had close friends a few yards away. I didn’t feel alone. Just disappointed to miss a fun day together but grateful to sleep it out in their comfortable home. 

I got in a few ski mornings this past week, and the snow is finally great. Powder day on Friday. So fun. I went snowshoeing again yesterday. Loving all that Tahoe has to offer. On Sunday, I watched the SNL 50th anniversary show. Watching SNL with you was always so fun. Even when the skits were stupid, they are still a piece of shared history that we enjoyed together.

Yesterday was our little girl’s birthday. Another date without you has passed us by. I know how proud of her you are. We both are. What a fine woman she’s become. Big shoes to fill being her daughter, but she’s holding her own and is up to the task. 

Both kids are in their third decade. Where did the time go? The dates keep falling out of the calendar.

The pain I feel that our kids don’t have you around in this chapter of their lives is every bit as bad as my loss. Worse at times. Even though they are adults, they’ll always be our children. No parent wants their children to feel pain.

The other day, I spent the night at Curtis’ house to go to an event the next day without worrying about the weather. Ronin was so happy playing in the snow - just as you imagined:

As I cuddled with our doggos, I wondered if they remember you. When I whisper to Ronin, “Mommy loves you,” his asymmetrical ears perk up. Holly stares into a wall, so not much has changed there. You were such an integral part of their lives. I’d like to think they remember you, but hopefully not miss you 1/1000 of how much I do. Dogs live for the moment, to have fun. They don't have a calendar full of dates.

This image recently popped up in my Social feed:

I learned this is Albert Gyorgy's sculpture, "Melancolie." It captures the emptiness and void that grief leaves behind. Gyorgy made this piece after going through deep sadness and isolation following his wife's death. 

The sculpture is perfectly correct. It feels just like that. I’ve sat the same way and hung my head. I did it while writing this and thinking about our kids. Especially thinking about Lauren on her first birthday without you. But the sculpture looks backward, permanently. It would be easy to do, to dwell on dates passed and milestones missed. The past, the familiar, are comfortable. Looking ahead, especially into an unknowable future, is scary. Not unlike wondering if you will make it off two airplanes without an in-flight code brown. But, like sitting on the beach, you must look towards the surf and the horizon to see what’s coming next. Another Pastis, I believe. But I digress.

I have some great adventures planned for the end of the year. Over the next month or so, I want to enjoy our Tahoe home as we thought we would together. I’m having fun and planning on having more fun. More skiing. More snowshoeing. But in those quiet moments, the in-between times, I am sometimes quite angry about the underlying reason I get to have this much fun. Because there's a date indelibly etched on a calendar, 10 months and one week ago (still counting), where your life abruptly ended. And my, our children's, and our friend's lives likewise, abruptly began to change.

But someone has to have fun. I am. And I'll keep on having fun. Much better than peering backward through the hole.

I miss you Beth. I love you forever.

Donald