Portrait of a Day

When you lose a spouse you lose so much. Dreams, hopes, future, companion, lover, friend, confidant, all gone.

Something else you lose, especially if you’re a parent, is time.

I don’t have much to write about so I thought I would capture a day in the life of a solo-parent and share it with you all.

6:15AM Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed. I worked from home so I got to sleep in an hour!

6:30AM Dialed into first meeting and got T and E up and ready while talking through team strategy in 2019.

7:15AM T and E out the door.

7:30AM Second meeting, acting as a proxy for my director in front of a partner org’s VP. And I made coffee.

9:00AM Meeting ends, finally looking at my emails.

10:00AM Pre-meeting meeting to discuss another meeting.

10:20AM Excuse myself from the last few minutes of that meeting. Rush to the car, realize I hadn’t eaten yet. Run back inside, grab a protein drink, back to the car.

10:35AM Get to T and E’s school to pick E up for his counseling appointment.

10:45AM Still waiting for E, the meeting the pre-meeting was about starts.

10:55AM E finally shows up, we get to the car using only hand signals because I’m on the call. He’s gotten good at this game.

11:05AM Drop E off 5 minutes late, drive back to the school.

11:40AM Still on the call, go into the school to pick up T and get her to counseling.

12:00PM Got T there on time! Pick up E and take him back to his school.

12:22PM Arrive at the optometrist. Fill out the paperwork at record speed. Have to fill out ‘widowed’ for martial status. During the appointment she asks how long ago it happened. Then how it happened. Then gave me advice on how to deal with suicide. Thanks for the tips.

1:10PM Pick up T, ten minutes late. Back to her school.

1:30PM Driving home, next meeting starts, a two hour preparation meeting.

3:00PM T and E get home. I forgot T was having a friend over. I feed them a snack while I finish up the meeting.

3:45PM Go to the gym for a quick run (it’s raining and cold and I just don’t feel an outdoors run today). One of my asshole friends convinced me to sign up to run a marathon with him in June and I just started training. I hope he’s reading this. Asshole.

4:45PM I get home. T wants a pick up at the store and her friend needs a ride home.

5:15PM Back home. Preheat the oven and get the rib roast in. Take E to a scouting event.

6:30PM Pull the roast out and let it rest. Go pick up E.

7:00PM Dinner. It was bomb.

7:30PM Clean the house.

8:30PM Finally hit the couch and start writing with a John Oliver rerun in the background.

I did a lot. I did it well. I did it by myself. I’m a freaking super hero!

See? I’m recovering, right? Things are looking up. I can do this.

But then there’s the day before to think about. On Monday I got up at 5:15 and went to work. Checked Facebook when I got to the office.

Facebook let’s me know Christine’s account had been memorialized (my request) and my relationship status is now ‘widowed’. I break down and nearly turn around and head home.

My schedule was packed. I just float through the day, trying to pay some attention to what’s going on but I feel totally disconnected.

The 3 o’clock meeting was cancelled so I went home.

I walked in the door at about 4:30. Went upstairs and stared at my bedroom ceiling for 1.5 hours until I realize I need to feed the kids. T has already called a friend for a ride to soccer. She knows the drill.

Dinner was leftover pizza. I laid on the couch with the Seahawks on in the background. Kind of watching.

At 8 I went to the store and bought a bottle of wine. I drank it all, then hit the whiskey cabinet while listening to sad music. I finally head upstairs and crawl into bed fully clothed. No idea what time.

Remember at the beginning of this when I said you lose time? When you’re in it, when you’re awake and aware, time flies. When you’re down and hurting it’s the opposite. It moves so slowly. I beg the clock to move but it feels stuck, trapped. Like me.

I don’t know who I am. Am I the dude that’s rocking this shit or am I the guy who can barely make it through a day?

It’s like a real life Two-Face. Fate flips the coin and decides what my day will be.

Guess we’ll see what happens tomorrow.

Untethered

One of the effects of being suddenly alone is finding myself with a particularly awful new freedom. I hate using that word, because freedom usually denotes a positive experience, but when lacking vocabulary what other choice does one have than to attach an incorrect but nearly appropriate word to the experience.

Freedom. What do I mean by that?

More than anything else it’s been a freedom to make mistakes. I’ve lost my check and my balance. I believe I mentioned previously that I am nothing if not impulsive. In some ways this has treated me well. At work I’ve found myself to be among the risk-takers and it has generally paid off.

The same could be said to be true in some situations in life. After all, I asked Christine to marry me just a few months after we met. We were wed less than 12 months from our introduction. This allowed me the best 18 years of my life.

However, there are times the opposite is true. Buying a house on a whim, a new car. Walking into Costco to get food for school lunches and walking out with a TV and a new computer. Staying out too late. Drinking too much.

Freedom.

I met with a group of ‘wids’ recently, both men and women. We got together to play pub trivia. It was fun, but it was also strange. Not strange in an uncomfortable way. It was the first time I’d been in a group of people who could totally empathize with me.

We came in second place, won some money. Talk about our spouses was sprinkled throughout the conversation, but it was light in tone. However, when the game was over and there was still some beer in our glasses we reached the Shit Gets Real moment.

We all took turns telling our stories, or a least some small tidbit of it. We also took part in one of the strangest contests humans regularly take part in, especially people in great pain, the contest of telling another person their pain is much worse than our own. I don’t get that. Why do we try so hard to validate someone’s pain by downplaying our own, especially in a club like this one?

Eventually I brought up this terrible freedom. One of the people at the table suggested another word.

Him: It’s not freedom. It’s being untethered.

I immediately agreed, thankful for a better, more descriptive word.

However, that night I gave it more thought. What does that word really mean? To be untethered means one must have at one time been constrained. An image came into my mind of Christine holding a leash attached to a collar around my neck (get your mind out of the gutter).

But that wasn’t right. Christine was not afraid to let her opinion be known, but she did not work to coerce me or control me. She trusted me to make the right choice and I love her for that.

And there it was. I wasn’t chained to her, under her control. I was captive by choice, to serve her in love. To make her happy.

When I would be out, and my impulsive tendencies would threaten to overwhelm me I would think to myself ‘would Christine be happy with this decision?’

I was tethered. I was held to her, attached to her. My love for her kept me close and controlled. Anything for her happiness.

And although the love remains, the reason to bring myself to heel, the ability to make her happy, is gone.

I’m untethered.

Tilting at Windmills

“When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!”

― Cervantes, Don Quixote

My dad hung a lithograph displaying the above quote in our basement bathroom when I was young. I must have read it thousands of times. It’s ingrained in my memory. I come back to it constantly when things seem out of control. I’ve thought of it often the past months.

When I was a boy I didn’t know anything about the source material. It wasn’t until I had to read it in a lit class did I get the reference. Christine and I also attended the musical years later.

The story is about a noble who reads so many chivalrous romance stories he loses his mind and becomes a knight-errant, a hero in the tradition of King Arthur in a world moved on from such ‘antiquated notions’.

In one famous scene he falls under the belief that windmills are in fact giants attacking the countryside and rushes to face them.

Since the book was written the phrase ’tilting at windmills’ has come to mean attacking perceived but imaginary enemies.

I think I do that. I think I have become so ready for something new and painful to come along that my first instinct is often to fly into battle, attack before I can be attacked.

That might be a poor description though, because just as often I flee. Flee from feelings. I also tend to take an imaginary issue and find my way to the worst possible outcome and assume life will become what I’ve just dreamed up.

Overthinking. Fantasizing. Imagining. Expecting. Worrying. Doubting. This is how I tilt at windmills.

Back to the quote at the top of the page. It’s been on repeat in my head for months, especially the last bit.

‘And the maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!’

This is the moment when Don Quixote realizes his madness, when he realizes he’s been fighting the imaginary. It’s poignant prose.

As he’s recovering, as he’s raising himself from the depths of mental illness, his conclusion is that life, by its very structure, is mad. It doesn’t make sense.

And that’s it, isn’t it? It’s why we wonder, it’s why we think to ourselves ‘How can this be happening?’.

How the fuck can my wife have killed herself?

She should be at work as I write this, finishing lunch, thinking about our evening plans, stressing about her holiday party coming together. But she’s not. She’s dead.

It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.

And there, in essence, is my windmill. Trying to find reason, logic, anything that will bring me some type of understanding of how she could do this.

The answer is simple, of course. It doesn’t make sense. Not to me. It never will. I don’t know what it’s like to be in a place so bleak you see no escape. To be unable to recognize how loved you are, how incredibly important you are to so many people and how much you’ll be missed when you’re gone.

It doesn’t make sense.

And so I tilt.

Ups and Downs and Downs and Downs

I haven’t written for a while, mostly because I’ve been struggling to adequately explain how I am feeling and because, if I’m being totally honest, I’ve spent a lot of time in avoidance mode.

Last week while in Costa Rica I decided to do some things for myself. First, I booked an 80 minute massage. I’ve only had one of them in my life and that was a relaxing couples massage with Christine. I didn’t know what to order and thought ‘Deep Muscle’ sounded like the right one. It wasn’t.

If you’ve never received a deep muscle massage but want a similar experience, just ask someone to alternate between beating you with a broomstick and tickling you with a feather for an hour.

Anyways, as I lay there I decided to think about Christine (like I think about anything else), but not in regards to how I feel, more about how I should frame my thoughts about her. I made a decision to stop thinking about what I could have done differently, and stop dwelling on how I feel. Easier said than done, of course, but it’s a step.

As soon as I made this agreement with myself a warm sensation overcame me and Christine’s face came into my mind. She was smiling and radiant and beautiful. I felt calmer. I felt better.

The next day I got up early. The local team was taking me on an ATV tour. We rode them up muddy hillsides, through the jungle, along cliff tops, across shallow rivers and through the surf on a white sand beach.

I was speeding through the river, water fishtailing behind me, smiling like an idiot, when I thought to myself ‘I am so lucky’… ‘Oh, right’.

This is an issue. I have a moment of happiness. A moment where I’m not dwelling on Christine or her loss, and then I reflect on the happiness and ‘poof’ gone. It’s like my soul is telling me I’m not allowed to be happy.

We finished the ATV ride with a beer on the beach. The plan was to make the short drive to the beach resort town of Jaco for lunch. This had been the plan for weeks, but when we got in the car one of the guys changed his mind.

Him: Let’s go to Playa Hermosa instead. I know a good restaurant there.

Playa Hermosa was the beach Christine and I stayed at when we visited. I just knew in that moment we were headed to the same place she an I had eaten. Panic spiked.

No, that’s not true. It wasn’t panic. A better term would be ‘pre-panic’. It’s something I’ve been experiencing a lot. Anxiety caused by the fear that I will enter a trigger event. I haven’t had one of those since Maine, but I am regularly nervous of it happening again.

I was right, we pulled into the same place… and it was OK. Totally OK. I mean, it was reflective. I thought a lot. I walked the beach where we walked, looked out over the same horizon. I shared stories about our trip with my team members, the things Christine and I did. It was OK. It was good.

I told her goodbye.

That night as I was reflecting, trying to remember good times I found it was almost impossible to think of specific events that could be classified as ‘good times’. It was difficult. I realized just like bad times, I needed a trigger to bring them up. I went to Ireland, I remembered our trip. I went to Costa Rica, I remembered the adventures we had.

This sucks. This really sucks. Why didn’t I do a better job of storing these away for the future?

The answer is obvious of course. I thought there would be more. When you have unlimited money, why worry about saving?

So instead I started thinking about her in general terms. Her smile, her face, those freaking moles on either side of her nose I loved so much. Her laugh. For people that met her that laugh stood out. It was so pretty, so loud, so passionate. Then I remembered her other laugh. The one that was the most real. When she was surprised by hilarity she would have this loud raucous bark. We classified it as her crazy homeless woman laugh.

Thinking about that made me smile. Then by the time I got back to my room I was sad because I couldn’t have those things anymore.

I spent the remainder of my time in Costa Rica staying busy. During the day I worked hard, met with everyone I could. At nights I’d talk to friends, any friends that would help distract me from her. It was nice talking to them, it was distracting. I stayed up until exhaustion took me.

On my way home I was getting on the plane in Atlanta and I realized I had never looked back at her Facebook profile. There is a great place to see happy memories, I thought.

I started scrolling. I made it back to May and then started reading all the things people had said about her following her death. It’s so much fun when you realize you’re crying around a bunch of strangers and you’re pretty sure they’ve noticed.

I was watching the Alabama/Georgia game on the flight and there was a Chick-Fil-A commercial. It’s one of those ones where the guy comes back from service abroad and surprises his family. He was in their cow outfit getting pictures with his wife and kids. They had no idea it was him in the suit. Then he takes off the head and reveals himself.

The look on his wife’s face, seeing him again, the joy and confusion and whatever else. It’s exactly how I would look if I saw her again.

I totally lost it. I actually barked. Who the hell cries during a Chick-Fil-A commercial? Me, that’s who.

When I got home I said hi to the kids, hung out with them until they went to bed and then went to the bar. Weird stuff happened. Not going to go into it, but it was weird.

I stuck around talking to some people I’ve met there until they called last call.

Sunday was another Get up, Get dressed, Get moving day. Made it through. I was up that night, thinking about happy memories. Trying to remember any specifics I could. Then I had a thought.

What if the specifics are difficult to recall because almost all of our time together was happy?

And then I went to sleep.

Memories of a Happier Time: Costa Rica

Absence, loneliness. The Theme.

Just like Ireland, when I landed in Costa Rica I didn’t have anyone to tell I had arrived safely. Before bed I didn’t have anyone to video chat with and wish good night.

I’m not saying I don’t have ANYONE to talk to. I definitely reached out to a few people, but it’s not the same. I didn’t have her.

It was impossible to avoid Christine this morning. I was sitting on the hotel veranda, sipping coffee and looking out over a coffee plantation. My breakfast was made up primarily of tropical fruits, cold cuts and cheese. The experience was so similar to one we shared the time she accompanied me on a work trip to Costa Rica.

There was that loneliness again.

Instead of dwelling on her absence I did something different, I thought about our trip together. I can’t say this made me feel better, but it did make me feel different. And different is good.

I arrived a few days before her so I could get work accomplished. She was very nervous about this because she had never traveled alone to a foreign country. She took a redeye and arrived early Thursday. Her phone wasn’t working so there were a couple nervous hours where I imagined every bad thing possible happening. She finally got to wifi and let me know she was fine. It was a huge relief. She slept while I finished the day and when I returned to the hotel I took her to my favorite restaurant in San Jose. It was a place a friend and I found on a previous trip and the steak and wine are amazing.

See, this is the thing about not having someone to share my travel days with. The hotel I’m in right now is ridiculously nice. I love it. I’d usually take some pics, send them to Christine and then we’d immediately plan to visit together some day.

We stayed up late. Some super annoying guy at the hotel bar bought us drinks and then proceeded to hit on my wife. We laughed so hard about it later when we returned to our room.

We had breakfast together (similar to the one mentioned above) in the morning and then I had some work I had to wrap up before we left. I sat at the desk while she worked on packing up. I kept putting my laptop down so I could help. We finally left for the beach around noon.

It’s a two hour drive and we hadn’t had lunch so we stopped at a small cantina just off the highway. My Spanish is poor, Christine’s non-existent. I helped her order some chicken and a glass of mango juice. The food was delicious.

The young woman, maybe 16, who served us was starring at us, chin in her palms. Christine made up an entire backstory for her and was convinced the server was dreaming of a life away from the small village. It became fact in her mind, and we laughed about it later.

We made our way to the hotel. It was at the end of a long dirt road and totally isolated. I was nervous. But when we arrived the place was clean, the pool was nice, and it was right on the beach.

We took a dip in and walked on the beach a little, but it was already getting dark so we went back to the hotel and had dinner. The bartender was incredibly nice, trying to teach us Spanish through his broken English. We all laughed. We ended the night on the rooftop patio with the only other guest at the hotel, an aging professional surfer spending his retirement chasing waves. The stories were amazing.

I lied. We ended the night in each other’s arms.

The next morning we were up late. We had breakfast at the hotel, went for a swim in the pool and then made our way to the beach. The water was so warm. Neither of us had ever been to a tropical ocean beach and it just felt amazing. We reveled in it.

We walked to town for lunch, a little over a mile. There were some kids who were crawling all over the place. On the backs of our booth, the floor, whatever. Christine hated parents who let their kids do this kind of stuff so we left after our meal instead of enjoying a second drink at the bar. On the way back Christine realized she was getting sunburned. I pulled off my sunshirt and let her wear it.

There were also the lizards. They’re everywhere. Usually this would make Christine nervous but in her brave way she decided to embrace it.

Shade was over the pool now and a swim sounded nice but the place was filling up. We decided to take a nap and were awoken an hour later by claps of thunder. The pool was empty, because only idiots would go for a swim during a thunderstorm. We got in our suits right away.

The sun was getting low (it does that at 5 in Costa Rica) so we went back to the beach to play in the water and watch the sunset. A rain storm suddenly broke above us just as darkness fell. The other people on the beach fled. We sat on the warm sand, in the warm rain watching the lighting.

I don’t know how long we sat there. I know the tide caught us twice and we had to move back. There were little crabs rushing from the water. We talked about life, about our dreams. We kissed. We held hands. We talked about the future we were creating, how far we’d come, how maybe buying a little house in Playa Hermosa and spending winters there and summers in Ireland wouldn’t be a bad way to spend our final years together.

I don’t know that I’ve ever felt closer to her than I did in that rain storm.

Finally, fingers pruned, we returned to the hotel for dinner.

We left in the morning and stopped at a fruit stand. Back in San Jose we decided to eat the mangos. They were amazing but incredibly messy. We stood next to each other at the bathroom sink stuffing mangos into our mouths, juice dripping down our arms all the way to the counter. More uncontrollable laughter.

We spent a couple more days together, me at work until four and Christine exploring the city alone, a huge accomplishment she was very proud of.

Like everything else, it ended. She flew home, I joined her a couple days later.

It was such an amazing time.

A Better Man

I went to the bar the other night. Alone. There’s that word again.

Things were overwhelming so I took a walk to the nearest watering hole.

The new Queen movie, Bohemian Rhapsody, has this great line:

‘The human condition requires a bit of anesthesia’

Truer words.

As I sat I thought about a time before Christine.

I wasn’t a great guy. Not to say I was terrible, but I wasn’t great.

I was much more self centered. I didn’t have a lot of concern for others. I was impulsive. I lied all the time.

Being with Christine made me a different person. A better person. She was my catalyst.

And she didn’t do it through nagging or arguing or any forceful method.

She did it by believing in me. She trusted me. She saw something in me no one else ever had.

I loved her for that. Love her for that.

It made me want to be the man she thought I was, or at least could be.

It didn’t happen overnight. I was still working on it when she left me. It’s a process. But improvements were noticeable pretty quickly.

My mom: Ben has changed so much. How did you do it?

Christine: I didn’t.

She was wrong of course. Her love was what did it.

I’m telling you all this because I was struck by a thought sitting in that nasty little dive bar. I can be anyone I want to be now.

Of course I always had that ability. I could have remained as I was before Christine and for all I know she would have miserably powered through. Or just left. Who knows.

But in honor of my love for her I became a better man.

Isn’t that a funny term? ‘Better man’. I think we (as men) miss the point so often. A Better Man isn’t someone who just brings in more money or is a provider or whatever the fuck. At least not in my mind.

A better man understands his job is to give. To give unconditionally. To give when it’s easy, to give when it’s hard. To show kindness. To be vulnerable. To take everything on his shoulders. To give and give and give.

And never ask for a single thing in return.

To do the dishes. To cook. To clean. To be MAN enough to take on everything and anything.

To me, that’s a man.

To stretch, to take a breath, and to carry more.

I don’t have that anchor anymore. Yes, I have my kids. It’s not the same. It really isn’t. I can be a great dad and still be totally self centered in the rest of my life. Love of a child is transformative, but not in the divine way. Not like a man and woman entering into a union by choice. At least not for me.

See, she chose me and I chose her.

So now what? Without her, without that reason, what do I do?

I can go back to the Other Guy. He had a lot of fun. Too much, probably.

But isn’t that dishonoring my love for her? If I return to my bachelorhood, or some semblance of it (I really am too old for that shit), what was the point?

So I look into the proverbial mirror.

I used to look at myself in a real mirror and say ‘Who are you?’

Now I ask ‘who do you want to be?’

If I regress, if I become someone who wasn’t chasing her love, trying to be worthy of her, then aren’t I saying she didn’t matter that much?

The worst thing is I’ve realized through events external to Christine I wasn’t even the man I thought I was.

Yes, thoughtful in my actions, but not thoughtful in my words.

Selfless in my actions but selfish in my thoughts.

So there it is again. The choice. Do I strive to be the man I wanted to be for her, the man I thought I was? Or do I take the easier path?

Me: Hey mirror, I choose her.

Get Up, Get Dressed, Get Moving

Saturday was difficult. I woke up feeling very low. I couldn’t summon the strength to get myself out of bed. It was too much effort to even think about it.

I can’t tell you why Saturday of all days was like this. What combination of factors was making me unwilling to start my day? The holidays could be part of it. Maybe it’s because this is the first day in months that I didn’t have anything I needed to do. No work, no soccer, no scouts, no plans. Nothing.

I used to cherish these rare days. Rather, Christine and I did. Now it’s just giving my mind more free time.

I lay there. I flipped through every social media platform I use, trying to find distraction. Nothing worthwhile.

That’s a big thing right now. Trying to find anything to take my mind off her for a few minutes. Not ignore her like before, but just a few moments of respite.

I rely on friends, but I don’t want to over burden them, so now I’ve started conversations with people I’ve never met in real life. Weird, I know. Some of these people are Christine’s friends from work, some are people that reached out to me after reading something here, there’s people from the ‘wids’ group I’m in on Facebook.

Then the same thing happens. I stop sending messages because I don’t want to wear that person down, but of course I’m so excited when they reach out.

Weird stuff.

A lot of it is also desire to have an intimate relationship with someone. By that I mean a companion. Someone I can bounce texts with, talk about the weekend, how much it sucks to pay a mortgage, fatherhood stuff.

I don’t have one of those.

After social media failed me I watched the slideshow video on my phone. This always hurts so much. It’s also one of the only ways I can really connect with her. The live pictures allow for sound and a couple seconds of video.

I didn’t realize until she passed away I didn’t have any video with her, or very little at least. These tiny snippets are what I have left.

In one she’s taking a selfie, and makes this funny face suddenly.

Today I laughed. I haven’t done that before.

My favorite one is where she’s looking at the camera and then her eyes drift down and this incredibly intent smile spreads across her face. I smiled back.

I needed to get up, get the kids food, pack for my trip. I couldn’t compel myself.

Me: Get up, get dressed, get moving

I repeated it. I repeated it again. Ten more times.

I put my phone down and got up.

It took me 45 minutes to shower and get dressed. I usually do this in less than 15. I kept forgetting what I was doing. But I did it.

T and E were watching TV. I got them something to eat.

My hair needed to be cut. I walked outside. I drove to the barber shop.

And kept driving. I was listening to music that reminded me of Christine and decided in that moment I would go visit her gravesite. Which is dumb because half of her ashes are sitting on her nightstand. Whatever.

I was listening to Billie Eilish ‘you should see me in a crown’. I’ve been listening to it a lot. There’s one line that sticks out everytime:

‘Tell me which one is worse

Living or dying first’

I don’t pretend to know what she intends with that lyric, but I answer ‘living’ every time.

Wid brain in effect. I can’t keep a straight narrative.

I pulled up to the gravesite and turned off my car. When I do that the CarPlay stops playing and the radio comes through the speakers.

‘Happier’ by Bastille and Marshmello was playing. Of course. Of course it fucking was.

‘I will go go go’.

I had a breakdown, holding onto my steering wheel like a life preserver.

But it also felt… special? Like it was the right song.

This is the first time I’ve visited since the burial. Did you know there isn’t a manual about what you’re supposed to do?

Me: Hey Babe, a lot’s been happening…

I was only there for probably 15 minutes. Should probably bring a chair next time. I mostly told her about what’s going on with the kids, what she’s missing out on and then finally asking her for some comfort and relief.

Strangely enough, I felt better. I kept moving.

The night has definitely been better. Got food for K to eat while I’m gone, ran a few errands, got back to the barbershop.

My hairdresser today was trying to convince me to go to a medium. That was WEIRD.

She was so into it.

Sometimes I’m thankful for these easier stretches, like tonight. The problem is they also give me hope that it’s getting easier, and then it doesn’t.

I’m flying out early for a week working in Costa Rica. Just like Ireland there will be many Christine reminders. More goodbyes to say.

On to the next day.

Tradition Day

We made it through Thanksgiving, mostly by cancelling the entire holiday.

In fact, we had a remarkably good time all things considered.

When I woke up I had a few minutes of misery to myself, but the kids and I had plans laid out to celebrate on our own terms.

We dubbed the day ‘No-Effs-Given’ with the intention of going out and doing whatever we’d like.

My office never closes. We have people onsite 365 days a year, so the kids and I decided to go hang out with them at work and share a meal with them. This had the added benefit of lots of time to play with the office dogs.

Then it was off to the movies to see Ralph Breaks the Internet. It’s a touching movie and very funny in places. We enjoyed it, even if it made me feel even more insecure regarding my issues of relying on other people for my happiness (watch the movie, you’ll see what I mean).

We were planning to get Chinese next but noticed the mall was open so we went on an unplanned and super expensive shopping spree. Retail therapy is still therapy, right?

Then Chinese food. We were stuffed. So of course it made sense to get stuff to make sundaes.

We had left the house around 11am and got home at about 8pm. It was a good time. We put a little clip together to share our day.

But when we got home everyone dispersed. We all left for our individual rooms and spent the evening alone. No one said anything but I’m sure it was the same. Absence again.

Then today got here. I don’t know why I hadn’t given it more thought previously.

Thanksgiving is a holiday. But the day after Thanksgiving is Tradition Day.

We’ve always spent the Friday after getting ready for Christmas.

First, the annual tree killing. Then lunch. When we get home I drag all the decorations out of storage and we spend the evening transforming the house into a Christmas wonderland. Her inside, me outside. She’d bring me coffee (usually with a little whiskey) to warm me up during the hours long process. I hated decorating outside, but she wanted it so I did it for her.

We’d always argue about the tree when I tried to get it straight in the stand.

Everyone would get a gift, an ornament to put on the tree.

Leftovers for dinner, a holiday movie.

The kids would be ushered off to bed and Christine and I would sit together in a dark living room lit only by the tree, decorations and the glow of the fire.

We tried to do it this year. We went and got a tree and had lunch.

T, E and I went to a trampoline place with a friend and jumped for awhile. That was the high point of the game.

I finally put the tree up around 7 tonight. We just wrapped some lights around it and called it good. I don’t know if we’ll pull out the ornaments. I don’t care to.

Throughout the entire day I tried to move forward. Step, step, step, step.

How many people cry at tree farms? What the hell?

I want this season to end. I just want to be out the other side.

“Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything”

I’m so tired of hurting, of being blindsided by days like today.

I miss her. I miss her so much.

Today

It’s been six months since that terrible day. I’ve tried to fill you in on what I’ve done and how I’ve experienced in the post love era.

There are a few notable moments I didn’t mention.

One of my friends nearly died. She had a procedure that should have been minor but complications kept her in the hospital. Her husband later told me he was shouting at Christine for trying to take his wife. I think that’s how he explained it.

It was terrifying for all of us. I don’t think anyone could have taken another death in our small, close knit group. She recovered. I was so thankful. I was also incredibly jealous. That sounds so horrible, but it made me think even more about my own loss. Why did everyone else get to have a person? I know, I’m selfish.

Then there was the night I was on the edge of joining Christine. It only happened once, me feeling that way. I was at our friend’s bar celebrating their 10th anniversary in business. All of our friends and acquaintances were there, having a great time. And I just started to feel so alone. Christine should have been there, but she wasn’t and never would be. It was also the first time several people had seen me since she passed away, so I had the whole widower leprosy thing going on as well.

I just kept coming back to joining her. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I moved away from my friends started messaging her, telling her I didn’t think I could make it through another night without her. And then a friend texted me this:

I know, it’s ridiculous. And it pulled me completely out of that line of thinking and I’ve never gone back.

There was the benefit for Crisis Connections we held in Christine’s honor. A friend did an amazing job getting stuff to auction off and raffle and we raised thousands. I even stood up on a table and gave a short speech. I thought it would be a horribly sad night but it wasn’t. It was a great night.

There was Halloween in Ireland where I was the one who got the ring from the barmbrack bread, supposedly signifying I would be married within the year. It was incredibly awkward but I kept the ring as a promise that things will get better someday.

I went out with the team that night to have a couple pints. When they learned about Christine they told me of an Irish tradition wherein a glass of the departed’s favorite drink was set at the table and a spot left open for them.

They bought her a glass of pinot grigio we kept a place at the table for her.

I also failed to tell you about the most important of the revelations I had. I realized I hadn’t mourned Christine. I pushed her aside so much trying to stay away from the bad feelings and just bottled it all up.

So I decided to let myself feel it. And holy shit how I’ve felt it. I’ve been a total wreck for three weeks. Just constantly breaking down over the littlest thing. But that might be OK.

Oh, and I found a therapist.

So there we are. All caught up. I’m alone. My wife’s sadness overwhelmed her and she took her own life. My kids lost their mom. The world lost the most beautiful person it had.

No happy ending. Not yet. Not even sure if you can have one of those in a situation like this. I mean, Christine clearly can’t. Can I?

I don’t know what’s coming from here. The pain has been overwhelming the last couple days since we buried her. I know it won’t get better, but it will get different. I’ll keep moving forward and keep my memory of her with me everyday. I just need to remember the good ones. Hold those. I’ll probably share them here from time to time.

I’ve heard from an astoundingly large number of people since starting this blog, a lot of them have said me telling this story is helping them through the same darkness Christine suffered from.

I’ll keep writing, you keep reading. We’ll get through this shit show together.

Yours in love,

-B

Requiem

Hey Babe,

We’re having your graveside service today. It’s going to be a very small group, just family. I don’t think we’ll do much. Everyone is coming over to the new house afterwards for a small reception. I got all the food from Costco. No pinwheels. You hated those so much.

I also finally picked up your ashes yesterday, the ones we’re not burying. I put a little aside for each of the kids, some for me for a tattoo (I’m getting the Tlingit love birds one you wanted so much), and then we’re going to spread the rest in Dingle. I hope that’s the right place. You always said ‘My heart belongs in Dingle’. That was my favorite day with you.

Right now you’re sitting on the nightstand on your side of the bed. It’s weird.

I realized yesterday that I haven’t done much to tell your story. Not with this blog or anywhere else really. I’m sorry. You were right, by the way. I am selfish. Or actually thoughtless.

I’m not selfish. If someone asks me for something I give. I do a crappy job of thinking about other people though. I need someone to tell me to think about them.

Just like how all I talk about is how much I hurt but I don’t talk about you. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you more.

I’m going to try and tell your story. I’m sure I’ll forget stuff. I’ll probably tell people some stuff you wouldn’t want them to know. Sorry in advance.

OK, here goes.

Christine was born in Sitka, AK. When you live in SE Alaska and you’re on Native healthcare you have to go where the facilities are. In her mom’s case that meant travel from Petersburg to Sitka.

She grew up in Petersburg (with a short 6 month stay in Skagway). They lived in a trailer, mostly because they had to rely only on her mom’s salary because her dad just isn’t a good guy. In fact, he’s terrible. He’s a monster.

This overshadowed her life. It would anyone’s, but in her case she grew up very mistrustful of people. She was always looking for hidden motives and rarely believed people had her best interest at heart.

However, she did have some people in her life that loved her a lot. Her mom and grandfather were on team Christine from the beginning.

She was a pretty girl and had a lot of neighborhood friends. She wasn’t much of a student.

She was also fiercely proud of the fact that she started commercial fishing when she was in 2nd grade and would regularly bring it up when people were complaining about how hard life is.

As she got older she became sadder, and with that came weight gain, and with weight gain came more sadness.

Kids were cruel to her. She was a Native girl in a town populated by Norwegians, some of them incredibly racist. There were times she wasn’t allowed in homes of her friends because she was ‘dirty’. They also picked on her because of her weight.

Kid: Tubby tubby, 2 x 4, grease your hips to get through the door

She told me that story many times.

Her father never paid her for fishing so she started working when she was 14 at the local Trading Union. She also worked at a pizza place making desserts and espresso.

Sadness was a regular part of her youth. She talked about it a lot. She also talked about how her grandfather and mother protected her from her dad. They were bright spots in a dark world.

Christine graduated when she was 17 and moved to Washington to attend beauty school. When she got here she found out that the world was a much bigger place and that people liked her and her sense of humor. She started going to clubs and got into the rave scene. She lost a lot of weight.

She met a guy in the navy, a pretty terrible person who treated her like crap. Because of her feelings about herself she didn’t think she could do better and stuck with this guy for a lot longer than she should. He was the only person she ever dated besides me.

School didn’t last long, one quarter. Christine found jobs to keep her apartment, eventually landing a sales job at Tiny Computers. She was told by her manager that her job was to stand at the front of the store and look pretty to draw people in and then he’d sell the computer and give her credit.

That manager eventually left and she learned to sell on her own. She was promoted to Lead Sales, similar to an Assistant Manager role. The new job was at the showroom where I worked. We both applied and she got it.

I hated her instantly. I was also incredibly attracted to her.

After a few days of bullying from me Christine pulled me outside and asked me what my problem was. This little 19 year old woman got in my face. I apologized and we became friends. And then more than friends.

She later told me she couldn’t believe how long it took me to ask her out. She would do things like lean over me so that her breasts would push against my arm, laugh at my jokes when they weren’t funny and get into things she knew I had interest in.

I wanted to ask her out very badly. I had talked to a friend shortly after meeting her,

Me: She bleeds sexuality

I was scared. She was super intimidating.

I finally asked her to come over and cut my hair. She agreed. I asked for frosted tips. It was 2000. Don’t judge.

We kissed that night. She slept next to me on my twin mattress, both awkwardly fully clothed.

And we never looked back.

I’m pretty sure Christine got pregnant the first time we had sex. I asked her to marry me a couple months after that.

I used a $2 ring I bought at a stand in the mall.

She said yes.

These things never work. She was 19. I was 21. It was doomed. But we did it.

I was upset with her for getting pregnant. I was not nice.

She planned a trip home after K was born.

Christine: How long should I stay?

Me: I don’t care

And then something happened. We fell in love.

No that’s not right. She loved me. I fell madly deeply in love with her. It was a holiday weekend. Labor Day? I don’t know for sure.

We had such loud sex the cops were called. That’s pretty personal but it’s a great story.

It was HOT. The windows were open. When we were done-

Cops: Renton PD. We need you to keep it down. We’ve had several noise complaints.

How long had they been standing there listening? We laughed uncontrollably.

K was born.

Two weeks later we were married at the Issaquah courthouse in front of my parents and her mom.

She took that trip back to Alaska. I missed her so much. Every minute.

I’m making this about me again.

She tried to be a good mom. I was out of work and staying home with K. She worked everyday and brought in all of the money.

I got a job. We found a place to rent. She worked delivering papers in the middle of the night so K didn’t need daycare.

Her grandfather’s health was failing. She wanted to be around him. I wanted an adventure. We decided to move to Alaska.

We struggled at first. The child support for B was crippling. Christine worked hard. First at a bank, then at the assisted living facility. I did better. We bought a house ‘out the road’. The property touched the ocean. It was ours.

I started traveling for work. Her depression got worse. Then she started taking medication. The medication made her not care about anything. I’d get home and find out K hadn’t been to school while I was gone.

We wanted another kid. It was her dream. We tried and tried but found out she had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. This meant she should not be able to get pregnant. And then she did.

T was born. Christine held her every minute she could. All the time. Even the slightest noise from T and Christine would pick her up and hold her close.

She also wanted a boy.

Me: I don’t want to have any kids after I turn 30

She took that as a challenge.

E was born 12 months and two weeks after T.

We had a full family. She had the family she always wanted.

I lost my job. We moved back to Seattle.

Christine wanted to chase her dream of being a hairdresser. We didn’t have the resources to put her through school but we did it anyways. I always gave her anything she asked for. Absolutely anything.

She finished school and went to work. Six months in she was a salon manager. Six months after that she was running 6 stores.

I am so impressed by her. I don’t remember all of the steps of her career through the years but she just went for it. She was the first person in her family to get promoted. And she just kept doing it.

Her hands started to hurt from cutting hair and she wanted to quit. She also wanted weight loss surgery. We were in a position to do it. We had to work hard for six months to prove she cared enough to do it. She was in the gym 3-4 times a week. She changed her diet. Like always, she worked her ass off.

The surgery was scary. It isn’t a small one. I walked six miles while I waited to hear how it went. The doctor came out and told me it went well.

The weight fell off. She was so happy. She was so so happy. Everything was perfect.

We bought a house. We loved more. We loved so hard.

It was all so good.

And then it wasn’t. Christine started to get jealous. She thought I was having an affair. She was convinced.

I wasn’t. Just so everyone knows. But she was sure.

I stopped talking to anyone from work outside of work hours. I did everything I could to prove to her I was only into her. But it didn’t go away.

She got a new job. It was a temp position. Then it was permanent. Then she got promoted.

She was insanely popular at work. Everyone loved her so much. It’s not hard to understand why.

At home the fights came more frequently. She would get so mad at me. Anything could lead to it. She would bring up things from 5, 10, 15 years before.

She started cutting people from her life. One slight and they were gone. It kept getting worse.

She started telling me the same thing.

Christine: I want you to find someone else. Why won’t you just find someone to make you happy?

She didn’t believe the person I loved more than anything else in the world was her. She hated herself. It got worse.

When she got mad she would leave. She would sleep in the car. She would go to the bar. She would buy wine and just drink. So much.

She started hiding her drinking from me. I would find airline bottles and boxes of wine hidden all over the place.

And then Norway. We agreed she would seek help when we got home. She pleaded with me to sit in her sessions because she said she would lie otherwise. It was all set.

And then she didn’t make it home.

Christine was passionate. She cared so much. She wanted the world to be how it should. She was furious it wasn’t that way.

Christine was popular. Everyone gravitated to her. She was magnetic. She made you want her to be your friend.

Christine was funny. No, she was hilarious. I’ve never met a person I could laugh harder with. I’ve never met someone who always made me laugh. We spent so many moments in time crying because we couldn’t stop laughing. Bent over, doubled over. Painful laughing.

Christine was loving. She cared so much for our kids. It broke her heart when B was hurting so far away. She would defend me and the kids against everything and everyone. She always took our side.

Christine was beautiful. She was beautiful before her surgery. She never believed that I could love her and find her beautiful. She has always been the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.

Christine was smart. She succeeded when she should have failed. She was the most incredible person I’ve ever met.

Christine was broken. She thought in black and white, and the black kept taking more space.

Babe. I hope I did this right. I hope I told your story. I can’t include everything. I can’t expect people who didn’t know you to understand how incredible you were. You amazed me. You did what no one should have been able to do. You said ‘fuck it’ and just did it.

I miss you so much. The kids miss you so much.

Christine: I want you to find someone you can be happy with. Why won’t you find someone you can be happy with?

You are that person. I was so happy. I’m sorry I couldn’t make you understand that.

Babe, I loved you.

No.

I love you. You are everything to me. I would do anything to have one more minute with you. Sacrifice anything.

I’d tell you I’m sorry. I’d tell you you’re the best thing I ever had. I’d tell you you’re the best thing the world had.

You are my everything.

I hope you’re better now. I hope you’ve found the peace you couldn’t find.

I miss you so fucking much.