The moment my life changed

Dec. 8, 2000. 12:30 p.m., Mountain Standard Time.

That's when I met Deb at the Olive Garden on Academy in Colorado Springs.

If I wanted to, I could get a GPS and pinpoint the spot and tell you the longitude and latitude.

But the details aren't really what's important. What is important is that was where and when a boy met a girl, and two lives changed.

Happy anniversary, you.

Five years later

Dear Deb,

It's hard to believe it's been five years since we parted. It seems like forever since I held you, and it feels like only yesterday since we had to say goodbye.

It's only been recently that I've realized that when I talk about you now, it's to celebrate your life, not to mourn your death. That's an amazing relief.

I have so much to thank you for that I could never put it all in words, but here are some that come to mind right away.

Thank you for making me a better person, and for making me believe I can be even better.

Thank you for showing me what love really means, that it's not just about how you feel, but how someone feels about you.

Thank you for teaching me to appreciate the finer points of cat ownership.

Thank you for accepting my faults and teaching me to accept yours and others'.

Thank you for teaching me that togetherness sometimes means being apart, and that just makes being together again that more special.

Thank you for your smile and your laugh, because even now they carry me through the darkest times.

Most of all, thank you for saying "Yes."

Love you always,

Me.

Questionnaire

For those who didn't know Deb, I thought I'd fill out a questionnaire for her. I'm sure I'll get all sorts of things wrong, and maybe this will end up saying more about me than her, but all I can do is try.

*PERSONAL DETAILS
Name: Debra A. Chong

Nicknames? Debbie, Sweetie

Where do you live? Tampa

What's your age? Stopped counting at 39 :) (would've been 46 tomorrow)

Hair colour? Brown

Eye colour? Blue

Height? 5' 2"

Shoe size? 5

Date of Birth? August 23

What's your star sign? Virgo

How many siblings? 1 Sister- Donna

How many pets? 2 Cats: Buster and Bailey

Obsessions? Playing video games

Bad habits? Nail biting

Phobias? Spiders


*ABOUT YOU

What makes you happy? Cats, lounging in my PJs, coffee

What really irritates you? Getting mayo on my burger when I specifically tell the counterperson not to put it on.

What makes you sad? Cancer

What makes you angry? Abusers

What makes you scared? Spiders

Who is your best friend? Tim

Ever broken a bone? Yep. I was in a car crash and broke my collar bone.

What was the last CD you bought? Pat Benatar, "Go"

What was the last book you read? "The Highwayman and Mr. Dickens"

Who was the last person you spoke to? Tim

What was the last thing you ate? Macaroni and Cheese

What was the last thing you drank? Water

What's the best thing you've ever bought? BooKitty :)

What's the worst thing you've ever bought? The Mommobile :(

What's the best thing you've ever been given? A wedding ring!

What's the worst thing you've ever been given? Cancer

What are your future goals? To beat cancer

Describe your bedroom? Not a lot of furniture, but we'll get around to that. The bed is nice and comfy :)

Favourite thing to do on a hot summers day? Sit out on the front porch with a big glass of ice tea

Favourite thing to do on a snowy winters day? In Florida??? :D

If you were granted 3 wishes, what would they be? 1). A cure for cancer. 2) Homes for all unwanted pets. 3) To be a singer.

If you could go back in time to see or change something, when would it be and what would you do? I wouldn't have gotten married right out of high school. :(

What's the first thing you think about when you wake up? WHERE'S THE COFFEE!!! :)

What exactly were you doing on September 11th as the terrorist attacks were being carried out in America? I was at work as a dispatcher in Douglas County.

Have you ever been in love? Yep

Do you believe in the after-life? Not sure, but I hope so

Where do you see yourself in 10 years time? Owning my own knit shop

If you could choose your own death, how would you go? At home, with Tim

Would you ever consider having plastic surgery? I already had it. And once I get the cancer beat, I'll get some new boobs. :)

What's the funniest joke you've ever been told? "Zsa Zsa Gabor went on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson and she had a cat on her lap. She asked Johnny, "Would you like to pet my pussy?" and Johnny said, "Sure, just move the damn cat out of the way!"

Do you have any regrets in life? Yes, but I don't have time to think about them.

Any hidden talents? Knitting

Is yours an 'innie' or 'outie'? Innie

Last job? Customer service representative for Checks Unlimited

Current job? Customer service for AOL

Dream job? A rock star!

Who is your hero? Firefighters

Describe yourself in 3 words: Caring, inquisitive, shy


*FAVOURITES

Favourite colour? Pink, green

Favourite animal? My cat

Favourite sport (to play)? Miniature golf

Favourite sport (to watch)? Baseball

Favourite soap? General Hospital

Favourite programme/s? Cops, Coupling, Court TV, Crossing Jordan

Favourite movies? The Wizard of Oz, Benny and Joon, Chocolat, Breakfast at Tiffany's

Favourite band? Barenaked Ladies

Favourite song? The Rose

Favourite room in the house? The bedroom

Favourite famous celeb/s? Johnny Depp, George Clooney, Barenaked Ladies

Favourite board game? Risk

Favourite video game/s? Sonic, Mario Kart

Favourite PC game? Magic the Gathering

Favourite food? Kraft Macaroni and Cheese

Favourite fast-food? Ho-Ho's Chinese food

Favourite drink? Coffee

Favourite magazine? Any knitting magazine

Favourite place? Zion National Park

Favourite cartoon character? Lisa Simpson

Favourite day of the week? Saturday

Favourite day of the year? Christmas

Favourite season? Winter

Favourite car? Mini Coopers!

Favourite shop? Knit n' Knibble

Favourite holiday? Christmas

Favourite country? Ireland

Favourite smell? Fresh bread

Favourite sound? Rain

Favourite accent? British


*PREFERENCES

Coke or Pepsi? Coke

Pen or Pencil? Pen

Day or Night? Night

Cat or Dog? Cat

Summer or Winter? Winter

T.V. or Radio? TV

Brains or Beauty? Brains

Tea or Coffee? Coffee

Brush or Comb? Brush

City or Country? Country

Red or White wine? Red

Early or Late nighter? Late

Early or Late riser? Late

Blonde or Brunette? Brunette

Scarey or Romantic movies? Romantic

Board or Computer games? Both

Half full or Half empty? Empty

Long nails or Short? Short

Happy and poor or Sad and rich? Happy and poor

Swimsuit or Bikini? Swimsuit

Glasses or Contacts? Glasses

Flowers or Chocolates? Chocolate, of course!

Love or Money? Love

Hugs or Kisses? BOTH!


*WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU...

Cried? When I found out I wasn't going to go on the Barenaked Ladies cruise

Laughed? When the girls from Knit n' Knibble came over.

Swore? When the doctor said more treatments wouldn't help

Lied? When I told Tim I believed him when he said that I was going to get better

Got drunk? The last glass of wine I had at PF Changs. :)

Read a newspaper? Last weekend

Read your horoscope? The last time I logged on a computer

Had a bath/shower? When I got home from the hospital

Smiled at someone? Last night

Gave someone a cuddle? Last night

Said, 'I love you'? Last night before Tim went to bed

A piece of advice

The first time I had to take Deb to the hospital was when she got food poisoning. She didn't feel well, so she asked me to speak for her at the emergency room check-in.

When they asked her birthday, I turned to her.

"You don't know my birthday?" she asked, in a tone I imagine she would've used if I had just admitted that I didn't know nose picking wasn't socially acceptable.

In my defense, if I was good with any sort of numbers, I could've gone farther in life, I feel. As it is, dates are numbers, so there you go.

So I learned her birthday. Aug. 23, 1965. 8/23/65. I worked at it. I got to remembering as easily as I remembered my own. I memorized it so I would never hear that tone again.

A couple of years later, some guys at work was planning a guys' night out. We were going to catch a Sky Sox game (the Colorado Rockies minor league team) on 50-cent hot dog night. Baseball, cheap eats, beer ... toss in a cigar and it would've been perfect.

So I tell Deb my plans.

"A guy's night out," she says.

"Yep."

"On Wednesday."

"Yep."

"The 23rd."

"Yep."

"Of August."

That tone was back.

Needless to say, there was no guy's night out for this guy.

So, fellas, here's that advice. Don't just memorize her birthday. Write it down on every calendar. Put up Post-Its all over your computer. Tattoo it someplace conspicuous. Do whatever you have to do to remember it, because whenever you forget it, you'll get that tone, and brother, that ain't good.

You'll thank me one day.

The other side of the story

Looking back at recent entries, I notice I keep coming up with things I did for Deb, but I haven't gone into things she did for me. I worry that it makes me look like I'm trying to boost myself or, worse, not painting a complete picture of her.

So this one's to try to set the record a little straighter.

1. On one of our first dates, we went to Poor Richard's in Colorado Springs. If I was to list my favorite places on earth, Poor Richard's would make the list. It's a combination pizza place/bookstore/toy store. Seriously.

Anyway, being me, I was showing off by playing with the toys, especially this dragon handpuppet. It had a tongue, so I started using it to lick her face, my face, the other toys' faces.

Months later, for Christmas I got that puppet. I barely remembered playing with it, but she did. Its name is Aloyisius, and I still have him. And yes, he still licks everything in sight.

2. After I had my torn ACL repaired, Deb drove us back to the townhouse, but I couldn't make it inside, only to a lawn chair on the back porch which faced the street. I was weak, and I could feel my vision narrowing. I was getting the whole tunnelvision/head into the light thing, I swear. As i was passing out, she kept her cool, called 911 and got an ambulance.

I fully recommend marrying someone who's had emergency training and has worked as a 911 operator. They're good in crises. We even stopped one day at a traffic crash and she took charge of the scene until the highway patrol arrived.

Anyway, it turned out the anesthetic hadn't worn off - I remember the paramedic saying my blood pressure was 75 over 50, and he was surprised I had any consciousness at all. So after some monitoring, I got to go home for reals. But in our townhouse the bedroom was on the second floor, so Deb nursed me in the living room for the next couple of days.

3. The day after my first full-on panic attack, I was petrified of going in public, but I knew that avoiding crowds wasn't going to be an option. So when Deb went to the grocery store, I tagged along. Walking in the door, I was paralyzed. She told me I didn't have to go in, but I told her I did. OK, she said, and she took my hand and led me around the store, reassuring me constantly.

That's the girl I miss.

The secret

Deb had a secret that she kept even from me.

She was always reluctant about most parts of her past. She would gladly talk about her grandmother, how she would sit next to her and play the piano. She told me she, like me, was an accidental baby, that her parents had gone to New Orleans and gotten tipsy, and ... oops.

But she kept most of her past under wraps. There were areas she wouldn't discuss, and in time I learned to let them be or risk being shut out entirely.

Not that learning where the limits were was easy. For instance, I told her about about my romantic past (such as it was), but she wouldn't talk about hers. She told me she had been married before and that it only lasted a year because he expected her to support him financially and they were living with his mother who was domineering. But she never talked about it beyond general details.

Whenever I asked about her other boyfriends, she'd deflect the question. "Why do you want to know? It doesn't affect us."

We both worked at the Colorado Springs Gazette at different times, and one day a co-worker let slip that she had gone out with another co-worker a couple of times, once to a Bob Dylan concert. Armed with this knowledge, I tried to see if I could get more details from her casually. I didn't go about it confrontationally with, "You went out with so-and-so, right?" I started a conversation about music and who we had seen in concert. After a bit, I said I'd always wanted to see Dylan, and she volunteered that she had seen him in Colorado Springs.

"Oh? With who?" I said, thinking I'd finally was going to get some insight into her past.

She named the co-worker.

"You went out with him? For how long?"

"Too long." She got up, and that was the end of the conversation.

After she died, I was going through her papers, and I found a notebook. It had addresses and little notes to herself. And it had some little pieces she had written.

I think everybody who aspires to be a writer writes little pieces that are really about themselves, but they write them as if they were writing about someone else. It's natural. When you write, you take from your own experiences and adapt them to the story.

This one started off with how the character's parents had gone to New Orleans and gotten tipsy and ... oops. So that's how I know she was writing about herself.

Then ... the secret.

Yes, she was writing it as fiction, and she might have made that part up, but from the other details in the piece and knowing her reluctance to talk about the past, I'm more than reasonably certain that it was true.

I won't reveal what it is. If she had wanted me to know, she would've told me. And I presume that if she hadn't told me, she wouldn't have told just anyone about it, only those who were really close to her. I'm not even sure her family knew.

Those who know it are no doubt keeping the secret as well. And I hope we always will because she obviously wanted it that way.

The fact that I found out her secret in this way doesn't diminish the fact that it IS something she wanted kept hidden, and I wouldn't betray her wishes. Not then, not now.

But the fact that she had kept a secret from me was crushing.

We'd had rough patches, like every couple did. One of the roughest was the religion discussion. Even though I don't go to church (I distrust organized religion) I still consider myself a Christian. One day she let slip that she considered herself an agnostic. That threw me for a loop. Because of my beliefs, I was afraid that meant eternity without her in the afterlife. It took a lot of discussion for us to find common ground, and she even got baptized to soothe my concerns about that. (I will always list that as the greatest and bravest thing she ever did for me)

So I understood why she wouldn't have told me. That didn't change the hurt I felt at the time, though. Why didn't she trust me, I wondered. Why didn't she have enough faith in my ability to accept this part of her past? We got over the religion thing, so we could've gotten over this. Didn't she know that?

It took a while to realize that this was another piece of unfinished business. She might have told me one day, if she felt comfortable that it wouldn't send our relationship into a death spiral. Or maybe she would've never told me. Or maybe she never would've told me, and we would've gone on to that front porch in Colorado into our nineties with my never knowing this about her.

Do we ever really know everything about our significant others? Do we really WANT to?

The main point is, it wouldn't have mattered in the end if she had told me or not told me. If she had, we would've gotten past it. If she hadn't, I never would've known and life would've gone on.

Like she said, "It doesn't affect us."

I wish I could tell her that. Hopefully, one day I can.

A little yarn

One year for Deb's birthday I was at a loss for what to get her, so I went to the fallback position: jewelry. I went to Kay's and got her a little gold locket. I thought I had done pretty good for myself, but I thought an extra gift couldn't hurt, so I went to a Waldenbooks in the same mall.

Because I'd spent so much on the locket, I didn't have a lot left, but on the discount shelf I found a $5 book called, "The Cool Girl's Guide to Knitting." I felt bad I couldn't afford a more expensive book, but I knew she'd like it because she'd taken up knitting.

Turns out I could've saved the money on the locket. She loved the book and never wore the locket.

Deb was a knitter, and I never really understood what that meant. She'd go out and buy yarn without a project in mind, telling me, "I'll figure out something to do with it."

Once I asked why she started so many projects and never seemed to finish any. She just said she needed to have something to do, and finishing was less important than being able to knit. Being a goal-oriented person I never really understood that.

But even though I didn't understand it, I am proud of one knitting-related thing I was able to do for her.

When she got serious about knitting, she discovered Knit n' Knibble, a Tampa knitting store and cafe. She used to go there, buy more yarn than they'd ever need, snack on baked goods and hang out with other knitters who came in to buy more yarn than they'd ever need, snack on baked goods and hang out.

It's what we guys would call "No Man's Land."

At work we have what we call The Freebie Table, where review copies of books are set out for whoever wants them. I'd grab all the knitting books that were put out and take them home to Deb, and one day one of the "Stitch N' Bitch" books was set out. It became one of her favorites, and she went out and bought the others.

After she got sick, she couldn't go to Knit n' Knibble anymore, but she'd look at the store's website now and then. That's how she found out Debbie Stoler, the author of the "Stitch n' Bitch" books, was going to be signing books at the store.

I could tell she wanted to go, but she didn't have the strength. So on the day Stoler was going to be in town, I snuck one of her books out of the house and headed for Knit n' Knibble before I went to work.

The line was longer than I expected, but I was committed. I called into work and told them I'd be late.

I got to the front, and I explained to Stoler why I was there instead of Deb, and I asked her if she'd mind if I got Deb on the cellphone. I didn't want to hold up the line, so after I got the book signed, I got Deb on the phone, and after waiting for a break between signings, Stoler got on the phone and said,"Hi, this is Debbie Stoler, how are you?"

I could hear Deb squeal over the phone.

"I just wanted to tell you you got a nice husband here," Stoler said.

"Hey, he's taken!" Deb squealed back.

When I got home that night, it was to a happy wife. "I can't believe you did that for me!"

I still remember that smile. And I still have the book.

Answered prayers

The oddest thing I remember about the whole cancer thing was people telling me how strong I was. Even Deb was thanking me, saying she didn't know why I didn't just leave.

I never knew what to say except thanks, but the truth is being strong had nothing to do with it.

The fact is it would've hurt me more to leave than to stay, and not just because I loved her more than anything, even more than myself.

It was because of prayers.

I'd waited my whole life for her. Growing up, I knew the one thing I'd be really good at was being married.

I prayed to be a husband. For the longest time, I prayed for God to take care of "her, whoever she is."

It wasn't really until after we were married that I realized my prayer had come true. I know how strange that is, but really getting married for me was less about being head over heels for this woman than, "Well, we've been living together for a year and a half. I'm not going anywhere, neither is she, let's get on with it."

That's the truth.

It wasn't till after we were married, on our honeymoon at Disney World when I was walking around in the top hat with the mouse ears, holding hands with this really silly girl wearing white mouse ears with a veil who was soaking in each and every congratulation that it brought her that it hit me that I had married the girl of my dreams. Of my prayers.

This was "her."

After that, my prayer was to never take her for granted.

When the cancer thing started, I never doubted it would end with her cured. There was no other way it could have ended for me. Any other outcome was out of the slightest possibility of being a whim of a ghost of a chance of being an inkling of what could happen.

After all, my prayer had been answered. But so had another one, though I didn't realize it for a long time.

The other thing I prayed for while I was growing up was to be needed. I'm never more alive than when I'm doing something useful. Dad used to say you can't take care of everybody, just your own.

Deb was my own.

So in a weird way, the cancer was another prayer answered. I needed to be needed, and no one needed me more than she did.

When she died, I felt betrayed. Like every person who loses someone and who believes in God, I spent time asking why. I shouted at him. I cried at him. I hated him.

Then we made our peace. After all, he did answer my prayers. He did grant Deb the peace she wanted. And any hope I have of running into her again depends on him.

There are worse reasons to believe.

I just read "A Grief Observed" by C.S. Lewis, who is best known for writing the Christian allegories/fantasy classics the Narnia series. I also knew from seeing the movie "Shadowlands" that he had been married and lost a wife.

It wasn't until I got a Kindle and was looking to put the Narnia books on it that I discovered "Grief." In it, one of the great Christian minds of the 20th century comes very near to turning his back on God.

In the end, he makes his peace too. No conclusions, really. He concludes, like I've done, that grief is an ongoing process, one that never ends, but one you learn to deal with on your journey through life.

It was nice to know I had such notable company on my journey.

VD 2011

Wrote this on the topic three years ago. Can't top it.

Link

Another promise

I've said before there were three great promises in my life: I promised my dad I wouldn't be afraid of life; I said till death do us part; and I promised Deb I'd be OK after she was gone.

Actually, there are four.

When the hospice person came into the hospital room to talk to us before letting Deb go home the last time, among the questions was directed at me: "If something happens to your wife, do you think you might harm yourself?"

I answered as truthfully as I could: "I don't know."

And it was the truth. I didn't know what I would do. I'd never lost a wife before. Certainly never lost the only woman I'd ever loved before, the woman who'd become the center of my life, the person who'd become the way I defined myself. More than anything else in this world, I was her husband.

What would anyone do in those circumstances?

Did I think I would kill myself? I didn't think so. I had made that decision when I was 13, when I was standing in the bathroom with a razor blade and thought what was stopping me from doing it. I decided then that if nothing else, I couldn't put my mother through losing another child (I had an older brother who died of leukemia), so as long as she was alive I would never do that.

But this was a different situation all together, and right then, I honestly didn't know what I would do.

After the hospice person was gone, Deb turned to me and said, point blank, "I want you to promise me you won't hurt yourself."

First off, she knew I didn't make promises lightly. And she knew I'd never break a promise I'd make to her. So she knew what she was doing.

Of course I promised her. I could never say no to anything she wanted.

After she died and the hospice nurse and I cleaned her up, the nurse asked where Deb's pain medication was. Not really wondering why she asked, I told her, and she gathered it up. It wasn't till much later I realized she took it because of my answer to the first hospice person.

I could've told her not to worry about me hurting myself. I had already promised.