It's much easier to arrange a wedding than you might think.
Print out your own invitations.
Order a cake from the supermarket.
Have your uncle perform the service.
Hold it in your mother's living room.
Have your nephew play the keyboard and your niece to be the flower girl.
Say "I do" when prompted.
Then embark on the most important and satisfying experience you're ever going to be a part of.
Simple.
Happy anniversary, sweetie.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
The gift that was not to be
While gathering up things for the Memory Vault, I came across these:
These are the movie stubs and other tickets from the first years we dated. I was going to put them in a frame and give them to her on our tenth anniversary.
There are advantages to being a packrat.
There are advantages to being a packrat.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Tales from the Memory Vault
This is the box I keep the mementos from my life with Deb in. I call it the Memory Vault.Deb was a packrat, and so am I. It was hard to part with her things, but I eventually decided to be sensible and keep just enough to fill one bin.
I'm going to share some of those memories here through some of the things inside of it.
These are the Tigger ears she bought when we went to Disneyland on our first trip together. Every time I get on the Winnie the Pooh ride, I think of her singing the Tigger theme song. If her ghost haunts any place on this earth, it's that ride.
These are seashells I brought back to her from a trip I made to St. Petersburg. Little did we know that a couple of years later we would actually move to Florida and she could've gotten her own shells.
This is the stuffed animal I won for her at Six Flags in Denver. She couldn't make the trip, so I brought it back for her, like a good boyfriend should.
This was her hairbrush. It still has strands of her hair in it.
This is her wedding dress, her bouquet, the cake topper, the wedding cake service set and the Minnie and Mickey dolls we got on our honeymoon to Disney World.The things in the Memory Vault mean a lot to me, but not as much as the memories they bring back, of course.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Eulogy
My older sister Doris died last Sunday. It wasn't really a surprise; she had been sick for a long time. But she had always bounced back, so it wasn't really something I was prepared for.
The most embarrassing part is Deb and Doris knew each other, and now there's someone on there's someone on the other side who can tell baby stories about me.
I made my plans to go back to Yuma on Thursday, so I could either sit around and mope for a couple of days or I could try to carry on as usual. I chose the latter. It worked out OK, because I feel better when I have something to occupy my mind. But I did ask the few people I told to keep it to themselves because I wanted things to be as normal as possible. I knew the emotional stuff would hit me when I got back there. And so it did.
I volunteered to say a few things during her service. I knew our mother wouldn't be able to make the trip, and even if she had she wouldn't have wanted to speak publicly, so I felt I was acting as her representative, as well as being there for myself. I'm not fond of public speaking, but I figured I could tell a story or two off the top of my head; get on fast, get off fast, before my nerves took over. I saw it as a mission.
So I get there, and I see the program for the service.
Welcome.
Opening prayer.
Eulogy - Tim Chong.
You know that sinking feeling when you get the restaurant bill and instead of it being $15 it's $50? Multiply that by a thousand.
Somehow between Monday and Friday, my story or two off the top of my head had become a full eulogy! I'd never done a eulogy; I wasn't even sure I'd ever seen one. I tried to hide my terror as best I could, but I knew I was going to have to come up with something very good, very fast.
I messaged my sister Sandy, who hunted up a couple of websites for me. I found one of those very useful. Plus once I started thinking about Doris, the words just flowed. I was up late writing it and ironing it out, but finally I came up with something I was satisfied with. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have had any sleep that night.
After the service, people told me I did a good job. I didn't care about that. I just cared about doing Doris justice. And I hope I did.
Here's what I wrote.
Good morning, I'm Tim, and I'm here to talk about my sister Doris.
Please forgive me if my voice wavers or I lose my place, because microphones make me nervous. You know they're always pointing at you, and I think it's rude to point.
First, allow me on behalf of my family to express our gratitude for all of you coming out today for this service. Never in my wildest dreams did I thought this would ever happen. Doris was on death's doorstep so often, death thought she was the pizza delivery guy.
When I heard she was sick again and was going into hospice, I thought, as I'm sure most of you did, that this was just another time when she was going to ignore the doctor's advice and instead of dying, she was going to get better and live.
If there is one word that describes Doris, it is stubborn.
She got her stubbornness from our mother, who couldn't be with us today because, like Doris, she has her own health problems that should have killed her years ago, but, like Doris, she ignored the doctors and lived.
But I still half expect Mom to come down the aisle on her electric scooter any second now, having ridden here from Missouri, saying, "Sorry I'm late, the interstate was backed up." And Doris would pop up and say, "That's no excuse, Ma, you should've called. I'd have come and gotten you."
Mom didn't play favorites among us kids, but it's clear Doris was closest to our mother than any of us. They were so much alike. They both got married young. In 1965, they both had charming, intelligent sons. Thirteen months after I was born, they both had daughters who ... well, they're sort of OK. No, I'm just kidding; they both are beautiful women who had beautiful children.
When they would go out together, sometimes they would be mistaken for twin sisters. I know Mom was tickled whenever it happened, but I never had the courage to ask Doris what she thought about it. But they were so close, I imagine Doris was proud to be compared to our mother anytime.
Their bond was the purest example of family love I've ever seen, and it's one everyone should strive for. It's the kind of strong bonds that can carry a family through any crisis, like losing a brother to leukemia in his early 20s. Or a bad auto accident that sends you into a windshield, making people wonder if you will even speak again. Or caring for your mother as she fights an aggressive cancer and wins. These are challenges Doris faced and conquered, and it's this kind of family love that will have to carry us through this difficult time as we try to adjust to life without this sweet woman who affected our lives in so many ways, and always for the best.
I said before this isn't the first time Doris had been close to death. In 1995, she had her liver replaced. After it was over, she asked me to write a letter to the family of the donor, and I was proud to. In one part of the letter, I described Doris this way:
She is the mother of three, and a grandmother. She has an excellent sense of humor and has a laugh you must join in with whenever you hear it. She is incredibly strong willed (I didn't want to call her stubborn) and is the type of person who gives to others, sometimes at expense of her own comfort, and through this ordeal she has shown nothing but strength and optimism for the future. I admire her a great deal.
It's 17 years later, and all of those words are true.
Earlier I said that if there was one word for Doris, it would be stubborn. Of course, one word isn't enough for her. You need so many others - loving, funny, caring, mother, Christian. Of all those words, though, I think the most important is caring.
Doris was always caring for someone or wishing she was caring for someone. I was told when she ended up having to use a walker, she'd grab the walker with one hand and have a dustpan in the other, still trying to clean.
Doris was always telling our mom that she was going to go to Missouri and take care of her. My mother was amazed, telling me, "How is she going to take care of me? She needs to take care of herself!" But it wouldn't have surprised me if I called Mom one day and she said, "Guess who just showed up at my door."
Toward the end, I'm told Doris was restless and agitated. The hospice nurse asked if there was anyone Doris might be waiting to talk to before she left this life, and someone said maybe it was our mother. They got Mom on the phone, and even though Doris couldn't talk, Mom told her that it was OK, she would be fine, and that it was OK for Doris to go and that she loved her. I'm told Doris calmed down after the call, and a few hours later she died peacefully. I firmly believe that even at the end Doris was wanting to take care of Mom and she wouldn't leave this world until she was certain Mom was going to be OK without her.
Doris was always caring for someone. She cared for her children, then her grandchildren, then her great grandchildren. She cared for me and my sister when we were young. She cared for other people's children as a babysitter. And she cared for her husband.
Now she's in a position to care for all of us, without the body that betrayed her in this life. And I bet she's excited about that job and already getting started on it, rushing around heaven, and if she sees our guardian angel taking a nap on a cloud, she's nudging him, going, "Hey, get back to work. They need you down there!"
Let me end with this story, and please forgive me if I have trouble getting through it without tearing up. My wife Debra died of breast cancer in 2006. We had been married for a little over two years, and she was everything to me. With her gone, I was completely lost. I didn't know who I was and didn't care if I was alive or not. The funeral was in Missouri, far from our home and the few people we knew in Florida. And even though my relatives were around, I felt completely alone. In the middle of the service, it hit me, like it's hitting me now, that I was really saying goodby, that this is really happening. I broke down completely. I was at the lowest point of my life and I thought I would never be happy again. I thought no one would ever care for me that much ever again.
Then I felt someone grab my hand.
Doris held on to my hand through the rest of the ceremony and pulled me through. It was like she was a lifeguard, and she kept me from drowning in my grief.
It would take me years to crawl back to being able to enjoy life again, but the one who started me back on the path was my sister Doris. And I thank God that she was a part of my life, and I will miss her.
I love you, sis, and thanks for everything.
Saturday, January 07, 2012
That's my girl
Considering how many times she told this story to me, I can't believe I've never blogged about this one before, but here goes.
Deb was in the market for a new car, and after a lot of research she decided she wanted a Toyota Camry. So she goes to a dealership and tries to get one, knowing the list price. She told the salesman she knew what she wanted to pay and wasn't going to pay any more. The salesguy told her she'd never get one for that price. She leaves.
She goes to another dealership and gets the car at her price.
Her first trip was back to the first dealership. She finds the salesguy and says, "Do you remember me? You told me I'd never get a car at my price. Well, that's my car over there, and you lost a commission."
Deb was in the market for a new car, and after a lot of research she decided she wanted a Toyota Camry. So she goes to a dealership and tries to get one, knowing the list price. She told the salesman she knew what she wanted to pay and wasn't going to pay any more. The salesguy told her she'd never get one for that price. She leaves.
She goes to another dealership and gets the car at her price.
Her first trip was back to the first dealership. She finds the salesguy and says, "Do you remember me? You told me I'd never get a car at my price. Well, that's my car over there, and you lost a commission."
Thursday, December 08, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, August 22, 2011
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
*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
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, February 28, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Answered prayers
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.
Monday, February 14, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, December 24, 2010
The fudge
I used to make fudge every year for Christmas. It started about 15 years ago when I needed to bring something to the office Christmas party. I discovered I had a talent for it. I would do it the old-fashioned way with sugar and not marshmallow creme.
Over the years, though trial and error, I added my own twists. I did a slow boil rather than a quick one to get the texture smoother. I experimented with how much vanilla to put in. I settled on pecans instead of walnuts. I got really good at making fudge.
Eventually, even though I took it into the office, I was doing it for myself because a) I was good at it; b) I got compliments and c) when I got it wrong I got to eat the mistakes.
Then Deb came along, and I started making the fudge for her. She looked forward to it, knowing not only she'd get to take it into her office and get the compliments, but knowing she'd share in the mistake batches and even scrape the bowl for every little bit of chocolaty goodness.
Then she was gone. I tried to make fudge that first year, but it wasn't right. I followed the recipe, tried all my tricks, but it just wasn't right.
I haven't made any since.
This year I made ginger snaps. I took them into the office, and when one co-worker saw I was handing out treats, he said, "All right, Chong made fudge!"
I had to tell him I hadn't. I hadn't made an announcement or anything that I wasn't making them because Deb was gone. I just sort of presumed people would figure it out on their own.
Then he started going on about the fudge. About how it was better than another co-worker's specialty. How he missed it.
And I'm thinking maybe it's time to make the fudge again.
It may be time to give it another try. It may not be the same as it was before. It may never be better than that. But it's probably time to see whether I still have the knack.
By the way, I'm not going for any metaphors here. I'm not trying to substitute "making fudge" for "going on a date" or "finding true love." I waited 35 years for the right one, and I'm prepared to wait another 35 for someone remotely comparable to her.
It's just ... maybe it's time.
Over the years, though trial and error, I added my own twists. I did a slow boil rather than a quick one to get the texture smoother. I experimented with how much vanilla to put in. I settled on pecans instead of walnuts. I got really good at making fudge.
Eventually, even though I took it into the office, I was doing it for myself because a) I was good at it; b) I got compliments and c) when I got it wrong I got to eat the mistakes.
Then Deb came along, and I started making the fudge for her. She looked forward to it, knowing not only she'd get to take it into her office and get the compliments, but knowing she'd share in the mistake batches and even scrape the bowl for every little bit of chocolaty goodness.
Then she was gone. I tried to make fudge that first year, but it wasn't right. I followed the recipe, tried all my tricks, but it just wasn't right.
I haven't made any since.
This year I made ginger snaps. I took them into the office, and when one co-worker saw I was handing out treats, he said, "All right, Chong made fudge!"
I had to tell him I hadn't. I hadn't made an announcement or anything that I wasn't making them because Deb was gone. I just sort of presumed people would figure it out on their own.
Then he started going on about the fudge. About how it was better than another co-worker's specialty. How he missed it.
And I'm thinking maybe it's time to make the fudge again.
It may be time to give it another try. It may not be the same as it was before. It may never be better than that. But it's probably time to see whether I still have the knack.
By the way, I'm not going for any metaphors here. I'm not trying to substitute "making fudge" for "going on a date" or "finding true love." I waited 35 years for the right one, and I'm prepared to wait another 35 for someone remotely comparable to her.
It's just ... maybe it's time.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
The 2nd best birthday present
The best present, of course, was meeting Deb.
The second best was a Red Ryder BB gun. I was 25 at the time. Mom finally figured I was ready to handle the responsibility.
True story.
The second best was a Red Ryder BB gun. I was 25 at the time. Mom finally figured I was ready to handle the responsibility.
True story.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Over my shoulder
So last night I was watching "Good Will Hunting," which I hadn't seen in years, and it gets to the part where Robin Williams is cutting Matt Damon down to size for thinking he knows everything because he's read a lot. Everything was ok until he got to this line:
I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.
It leveled me to the ground, like the first 10 minutes of "Up" floors me. I had to turn off the movie. I spent the rest of the night mopish. If anyone else had been around, I wouldn't have been fun to be around.
Today I went to Big Cat Rescue. I've had a bug to see places around the area I haven't gotten around to seeing even though I've been here five years. I don't want to be like the guy who lives in New York his whole life and never gets to the Statue of Liberty.
I'm walking with the tour group, and suddenly I get a feeling someone's standing behind me over my left shoulder. I turn around and no one's there. I shrug and move on.
A couple of minutes later, it happens again. Again a shrug.
The third time it happens, it clicked.
I don't think I have to spell it out. She loved cats, especially big ones. And she never could stand to see me sad.
By the way, Big Cat Rescue is a great place. If you're ever in Tampa, it's a must see.
I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.
It leveled me to the ground, like the first 10 minutes of "Up" floors me. I had to turn off the movie. I spent the rest of the night mopish. If anyone else had been around, I wouldn't have been fun to be around.
Today I went to Big Cat Rescue. I've had a bug to see places around the area I haven't gotten around to seeing even though I've been here five years. I don't want to be like the guy who lives in New York his whole life and never gets to the Statue of Liberty.
I'm walking with the tour group, and suddenly I get a feeling someone's standing behind me over my left shoulder. I turn around and no one's there. I shrug and move on.
A couple of minutes later, it happens again. Again a shrug.
The third time it happens, it clicked.
I don't think I have to spell it out. She loved cats, especially big ones. And she never could stand to see me sad.
By the way, Big Cat Rescue is a great place. If you're ever in Tampa, it's a must see.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Four years on: 10 observations
1. I just realized today that Deb died five years after 9/11, so for the rest of my life the landmark anniversaries of that day, like next year's 10th, will also be a landmark for me, like next year's 5th. Since I'm bad with dates, this is frighteningly useful to me.
2. I often dream that Deb is still alive, and I always become aware of it being a dream. I always shrug and just go with it.
3. Four years can seem like an eternity and a moment at the same time. It seems like forever since I held her, but only a moment since we said goodbye.
4. The gas bill is still in her name. It was going to be a hassle to change it over, so I just left it. It don't bother them, it don't bother me.
5. I still watch movies and videos and think, "She would've loved this." The latest one: Disney's "Alice in Wonderland" synced to Pink Floyd's "The Wall." As both a Disney and a Floyd nut, she would approve.
6. After we got married, someone picked up the cloth rose petals that were tossed in front of her and gave them to us. Since then, whenever I take a vacation out of the country I leave a petal in each place I visit. So far, there are petals in Jamaica, Belize, Mexico, Grand Turk and Honduras.
7. Since we got married in my mom's trailer, we never really had a first dance. The only time I remember us dancing is at Barenaked Ladies concerts to "Call and Answer," so I guess that would be our song.
8. I've put away most of the stuff of hers I kept, but I always keep her coat on the coatrack by the door.
9. I still have the first present she ever got me: a book called "The Vigilantes of Montana." I have no idea why she thought I'd be interested in that. I've never read it.
10. I still wear a couple of her T-shirts.
Still miss you, Sweetie., and still love you.
2. I often dream that Deb is still alive, and I always become aware of it being a dream. I always shrug and just go with it.
3. Four years can seem like an eternity and a moment at the same time. It seems like forever since I held her, but only a moment since we said goodbye.
4. The gas bill is still in her name. It was going to be a hassle to change it over, so I just left it. It don't bother them, it don't bother me.
5. I still watch movies and videos and think, "She would've loved this." The latest one: Disney's "Alice in Wonderland" synced to Pink Floyd's "The Wall." As both a Disney and a Floyd nut, she would approve.
6. After we got married, someone picked up the cloth rose petals that were tossed in front of her and gave them to us. Since then, whenever I take a vacation out of the country I leave a petal in each place I visit. So far, there are petals in Jamaica, Belize, Mexico, Grand Turk and Honduras.
7. Since we got married in my mom's trailer, we never really had a first dance. The only time I remember us dancing is at Barenaked Ladies concerts to "Call and Answer," so I guess that would be our song.
8. I've put away most of the stuff of hers I kept, but I always keep her coat on the coatrack by the door.
9. I still have the first present she ever got me: a book called "The Vigilantes of Montana." I have no idea why she thought I'd be interested in that. I've never read it.
10. I still wear a couple of her T-shirts.
Still miss you, Sweetie., and still love you.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Happy birthday, you
Hey, Sweetie.
You would've turned 45 today. And you wouldn't have appreciated me saying that officially makes you "my old lady." But I doubt you would've minded after we got back from Disney World and I took you to your favorite restaurant, The Front Porch, for dinner.
Best of all, we would've been one year closer to getting that place in Colorado, the one we could see the sun setting over the mountains from our own front porch, rocking the day away.
Miss you.
Tim
You would've turned 45 today. And you wouldn't have appreciated me saying that officially makes you "my old lady." But I doubt you would've minded after we got back from Disney World and I took you to your favorite restaurant, The Front Porch, for dinner.
Best of all, we would've been one year closer to getting that place in Colorado, the one we could see the sun setting over the mountains from our own front porch, rocking the day away.
Miss you.
Tim
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