The Widower’s Rant: Happy Anniversary!

Jan 17

4 min read

Beth,

Happy Anniversary! I thought I’d update you on how I’ve been over the past nine months (still counting, but no longer in days or weeks). The TL;DR is I’m fine. Not the polite, “I’m fine,” which means in code, “I don’t want to talk about it,” but honestly, I’m okay. Better than okay.

The amount of dynamic change since our last Anniversary is hard to catalog. The most prominent change (aside from the obvious) is I moved to our Incline house more or less full-time. You were our tether to Sonoma County, and while leaving great friends, food, and our beloved Geyserville Home behind is tough, Tahoe is everything we dreamt about and more. The other significant change is your doggies are so happy to be with C/R. They enjoy their yard and being with people they love. They get continuity and routine that I can’t offer. Right after you died, I made them a promise that I would take care of them. Today, the best way for me to care for them is for them with our son. I miss them badly, but I see them almost weekly.

Do you remember how I loved Sunday Supper? I’m back to having it, but now our son makes it for me. My heart swells every time. Speaking of which, he’s thriving up at Tahoe, too. He’s already logged 23 ski days this season and is living his best life ever. Lauren seems to be doing pretty well, too. She’s part of a management team opening a new restaurant in Santa Barbara. She brought our wines to their wine list! How cool is that? I visited L/D twice last year and will do my best to keep it up. Lauren set up a holiday for all of us in the Caribbean in February. They are both such amazing people. We did good, Beth. We did good.

The floors and the rest of the flood damage in the Incline house were finally fixed. Two weeks after you died. The trite expression, “better late than never,” does not sit well with me. We have most of the furniture and hosted our first family dinner here. I’m reasonably well moved in. I love my treehouse.

I’m looking forward to being here more consistently this year to learn the rhythms of mountain living and enjoy everything Lake Tahoe has to offer. I take comfort in knowing that going skiing anytime, hiking along the lake and mountains, jumping on the bike, and swimming in the lake are all the things we would have done together daily once you retired. I’m doubling down on the activity level for as long as I’m able.

I’ve been taking good care of myself. After you died, I did the Buddhist thing and shaved off the scraggly beard you said you liked and the rest of the stubble on my head. Left the eyebrows, though. I’ve diligently followed your mantra to be at play at every opportunity. Being outside, being in motion, has consumed me. I've been reading and relaxing and have become unexpectedly mindful of present moments. I've been writing. I say yes. And I say no. I’m pretty sure I’ve changed more, and more positively, in the last nine months than in the previous nine years.

We’ve honored your wish not to have a memorial or service. Instead, I’ve visited as many of your closest friends as possible. The time together with them but without you has been both challenging and healing. Having days together is much better than a few awkward words after a service; perhaps that is what you were thinking. My first trip was to spend time with your dad. We rode bikes to the Dunkin'. We uncharacteristically spent hours talking at his kitchen table. There was no emotional content, though, which I know is not surprising to you. Losing a child, especially when you are 89, must be so hard. I saw him twice, and anytime I’m anywhere near, I’ll keep that up. D&M came out; I still owe them a trip to Panama. I took trips to Southern California, went back to Maine, and ended the year in Oz.

Starting the new year in new surroundings was just what the doctor ordered. I had a fantastic time with C/A in Oz—sailing, swimming, hikes, four-wheeling, sightseeing, a road trip, cooking together, a bit of wine, and so on. Do you remember our first trip to Tasmania for their wedding? The kids were so young and so great on that long flight. That lit the fuse for our family adventures. Our subsequent trips together with C/A are lifetime highlights.

I wanted to celebrate our Anniversary, and my first without you by my side, by being outside, by being at play. I had the weekly zoom with your dad and sister, then caught first tracks on an unreasonably gorgeous morning at our mountain. I’ve been out five days in a row since I came back from Oz, and I intend to continue the pattern until the end of the month. Next, I went on a five-mile hike along the East Shore trail to visit your Fishie and head up the mountainside a bit. Curtis decided to go skiing at the end of his day, so I joined him for a few runs. After, we shared a victory beer and toasted how proud of us you’d be. I made a nice dinner for myself and had your favorite dessert. I had a great day today. Most of my days are great days. I have so much to be thankful for. Especially today.

Thirty-eight years ago, you made me the happiest man on the planet. I didn’t truly appreciate just how good I had it then. But I figured it out. I’m so lucky. Over the last several years, I know that we both realized just how good we had it. I’m so grateful our life story ended on a high note—right up to your last day. We created a fantastic, unparalleled life together. Now, I’m squeezing every last drop from it. I owe this to you and the life we created: to have as much fun, new adventures, and joy as possible. I've been, and I'm going to leave it all on the field. It's in honor of you, and thanks to you, Bethie.