Double Rainbows

Double rainbow 2day. Saw my 1st the day after u died. Then nearly every day for the next 2 weeks. Love u 2. #MssgsBetweenWorlds #WidowMoment

— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) July 11, 2015

The Great Gatsby

If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the "creative temperament." - it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again.

 The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Tweet

9 yr old sang happy birthday to my dead husband's ashes this morning. In case u were wondering how my day is going. #LoveMyKids #WidowMoment
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) September 16, 2014

4 Years

...4 things I need to tell you...

1.) I met a man, fell in love, and got married.

I never expected to date again, let alone get married.

I know you would want this new life and new love for me. I would want it for you if I had been the one to die, leaving you behind and alone. We even spoke about it on several occasions. Doesn't stop me from feeling like I've cheated on you.

Most days I'm happy in my new life.

No.

Every day I'm happy in my new life.

Some days, though, I imagine living in a parallel universe where you're still alive, we're still together, and I've never met this amazing man who loves me even while I still love you. Maybe loves me because I still love you.

He's an amazing man, Stephen. I think you'd have been great friends.

2.) I have two beautiful children.

They are smart, funny, amazing, mischievous, talented, imaginative, loving, kind, giving, brash, loud, quiet, shy, outgoing, girls that I adore with every ounce of my being. They fill my days and nights with chaos and joy, with running dialogs about purple monkeys flying at midnight and unicorns farting rainbows, with subtle winks that are anything but subtle, tears of pain and frustration, tears of joy and accomplishment, giggles and laughter that bounce around rooms, and smiles. Smiles that can teach Times Square a thing or two about lighting up a space.

You and I wanted children. We wanted six because we were insane like that. After eight years of trying, we finally gave up on that dream and chose a different dream. That last dream we shared died when you died. So much of me died when you died. I did, eventually, create a new dream. And I've been lucky enough to have this dream include these two wonderful girls that I look forward to watching grow into fabulous women.

I wish we had the opportunity to raise children together. I still think we'd have made beautiful and talented, but blind as bat, children. I believe you would have been a marvelous father. Somehow, though, I feel you smile over my shoulder when I watch the girls play, when I watch them succeed at something they've worked hard to master. As if you know, as if you watch over them during the times I can't.

3.) I've kept our house but I don't live there anymore.

I've moved to the suburbs. In an HOA. Remember how I used to rail against HOA's? Turns out, it's not so bad. I've met a lot of mother's of kids the girls are friends with in the neighborhood. We've become a mommy-network, relying on each other when some unexpected occurrence happens. In the process, I've made some truly amazing friends. I really would have hated it here without kids, though. In that much, I was correct.

Our house suffered some damage in a storm about three years ago. As a result I removed the old deck we had been trying to destroy for years. I replaced it with an extension of the roof for a covered porch. Ran electricity out for an overhead fan. It's gorgeous. Then I moved out. Still haven't redone the kitchen. The one room we always wanted to tackle but something else would pop up. I'll remodel the kitchen before I move back. Once the kids move out for college, Doug and I plan to sell his house and move back there. For the time being, it's difficult for me to even walk through it. Even with someone else's furniture filling the rooms, I still expect to see you walk around a corner. Eventually, I expect, that will wear off. Four years hasn't been long enough, though.

4.) I think about you every day.

It doesn't always hurt anymore. Frequently I still get that quick stab through the heart, my breath will catch for a moment, then my heart rate and breathing return to normal. But more and more the thought of you rises, passes through me, and nestles back into my very marrow. Memories of you are a part of me that flow and ebb, pumping through my veins, bouncing along with white and red blood cells. Missing you has become less of an assault. It is more familiar. At four years, it should be more familiar.

I think about how absolutely hilarious you'd find me now. Mother of two, living in suburbia, president of the summer swim team, driving my white Camry with red racing stripes, music always blaring. Same girl, different woman. Same woman, different girl.

I always wear at least once piece of jewelry you gave me. Sometime I still wear your wedding ring around my neck. It makes me feel closer to you when I feel small and insignificant. The baby blanket of the adult widow.

I talk about you. To Doug and the girls. Our youngest decided long ago that you are her guardian angel. If you can guard us, I know you'll watch out for the girls. You know where my heart always leads. And they are my heart now.

I miss you still. I always will. But the missing of you has changed. As I have changed. I love you. That will never change. I will always love you.
  

For all those sports fans...

Eventually, everything comes full circle.

In February of 2006, the Seahawks played the Steelers in Superbowl XXsomething-or-other. The only reason I know this is because I watched it. The only reason I watched it is because I married a Packer fan. A Packer fan who wrote a sports blog with a Seahawks fan. Both of them, oddly enough, named Steve. Which is where they came up with the blog name of SportsBlogSteves.com.

My mama had always told me "Your man will be into one thing above all others. Probably it will be a sport, I'm sorry to say. Join him in it. Wholeheartedly and with enthusiasm, join him. It will give strength to your marriage."

She was right.

Steve was a Green Bay Packers fan through and through. His words to me early on were "I'm a Packer fan. Deal with it."

So I did.

I asked him to teach me football. To not speak over my head, excluding me from actually learning by using a language I didn't know. To not yell at me if I talked over an important play, cause I wasn't doing it on purpose. To help me become a true fan.

And he did.

Getting TiVo helped immensely. Instead of talking over plays, we just rewound and watched over and again until I understood the play or rule or nuance. Eventually we used it to rewind and argue about plays before hearing what the refs called. He seemed proudest when I won the rewind arguments. We tried to catch up at commercials but in our household, we finished watching the game bout a half hour behind the rest of the world.

By the early spring of 2006, I was an avid Packer fan and pretty decent at watching football in general. I couldn't speak to coaches or players outside of the Pack but I knew what I was watching, knew the positions and rules and felt comfortable making comments in rooms full of men watching football. So when we sat down to watch the Seahawks face the Steelers, I was excited for our friend.

Imagine my surprise to see officiating so bad I had to wonder what mafioso had bought the outcome. My Steve wrote a post about the game and said this:

This wasn’t just one bad call, this was a consistent and deliberate agenda, a fraud perpetrated against the Seahawks by the officials. Every time Pittsburgh needed a call they got it. Every time Seattle began to move the ball, a call went against them. It was obvious and shameful.

Fast-forward to February 6, 2011. Steve died six months earlier and his team was headed to the Super Bowl. I hadn't even woken out of my widow-fog to realize what was happening until sometime in the playoffs, though I had been in front of a TV for every game. When I did finally waken enough to see what was going on, I shook. I wanted the Pack to go to the Super Bowl. I wanted them to win. It felt right and proper and fitting. Considering my husband had just died at 47 leaving me a widow at 36, proper and fitting had no place in my world. Hence, the nervousness.

There's a whole other post I could write, and have tried to write, about being a widow and watching my beloved's team make it to the Super Bowl the season after his death. Today what I'll say is... the Packers played the Steelers. The cheating team that had already stolen a Super Bowl from our friend up north.

And though I could barely watch the game, and the memories of that night are mostly fogged in, one stands out clear. A Steelers fan had made it into my house that night. And sitting in my dead husband's recliner she made a comment about an unfair call by the refs after having repeatedly screamed about taking Rodger's "out at the knees". To which I replied something along the lines of "it was a fair call (and it was), it's only fair turnabout after the last Super Bowl you cheaters showed up to play at, we don't dirty talk about intentionally hurting players in this house so watch your mouth, and get your scrawny ass out of my dead husband's chair before I actually hurt you."

Packers won the Super Bowl that night. Which felt right and proper and fitting for my dead husband. And brought a little joy to some Seahawks fans. But the circle wasn't complete. Not until this past Sunday when the Seahawks got a second chance to win the game they were supposed to win, should have won, eight years ago.

And while I'm excited and happy for our geographically challenged Seahawks friend, Steve. I feel a loss that my Stevie wasn't here to cheer and scream for his friend's team. The blogging they would have done! So I'm writing it for my Stevie. For our friend, Steve.

St. Ides, this is for you. We've come full circle now. Congrats.

Interview

Some tattoos have deep meaning. Read more, and hear @KikiMarcus share the story behind her memorial tattoo here. http://t.co/xl6dRuVr6T
— Brittany Keeperman (@BodyModChicago) February 4, 2014

Love Don't Die - The Fray

If I know one thing, that's true
It ain't what you say, it's what you do
And you don't say much, yeah, that's true
But I listen when you do

A thousand years go by
But love don't die

If I know one thing, that's true
It's that I'm never leaving you
And you don't say much, yeah, that's true
But I lose it when you do

Don't let them tell no lie
Love don't die

No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
And even if they try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die

If there is one thing, that's true
It's not what I say, it's what I do
And I say too much, yeah, that's true
So just listen to what I do

A thousand years go by
But love don't die

No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
And even if they try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die

She can break it up
She can burn it down
You can box it in
Bury it in the ground
You can close it off
And turn it away
Try to keep it down,
Six feet in the ground

But love don't die

No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
And even if they try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die

No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
I’d like to watch them try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die

4 birthdays, 51 Years, and Thousands of Miles

Maggie: He's dead and I'm alive.

Jim: That's what I'd keep in mind.

- "Election Night, Part 2" - The Newsroom


Steve's first birthday after his death, I went to Venice, Italy. It was the last vacation Steve and I had planned, with hotel and plane tickets already booked and bought. His birthday was a mere two months after his death. Terrified if I stayed home I would harm myself, knowing Steve would want me to enjoy life and move forward, believing I needed to at least try and move forward even if I was still widow-fogged most days - I changed his ticket over to a friend and away we went anyway.

That trip I can only see in my memory as snapshots through a haze. I know I was hysterical. Not always in the funny sense but in the "unmanageable emotional excess" sense. Everything was, emotionally, to the extreme. I laughed inappropriately, I cried unstoppably, I fell down stairs, I forgot things, I couldn't figure out how to get into buildings. I sat in quiet moments trying to imagine what we'd have been doing at that moment in that place then I tried to go do all those things. I failed. It wasn't the success or failure that was important, and I knew it. It was the trying that mattered. But I didn't do it alone and we muddled through, hysterical laughter and all. In the end, going to Venice was the best decision I could have made. I'm proud of myself for having braved moving forward through my pain.

The following year I wanted to leave the country again. It felt right in my soul, to travel back to Italy. And, honestly, I couldn't think of anywhere else to spend the time. So I asked my remaining friends if they'd like to go but the time away and expense made it impossible. My father had died that summer and as Steve's birthday approached, I felt trapped in a pressure cooker. Only in a total panic, a month before Steve's birthday, was I able to make the commando decision to travel alone when I booked my trip to Florence, Italy.

I had never gone on vacation alone before, let alone in a foreign country. But I gave myself over to the experience and enjoyed my travels in ways I could never have imagined. I walked the city streets from 8 am to well after midnight. I explored museums, estates, and gardens the like that are only available in Europe. I drank copious amounts of red wine, ate miles of fresh pasta, learned to drink cappuccino only in the mornings and espresso only after dinner. In Florence, I found my strength again. And, being Florence, I found beauty again. The pure joy of finding strength and beauty refreshed my soul.

The third time his birthday rolled around Steve would have been fifty, a landmark year. A month later would have been our tenth wedding anniversary. I chose to move my annual Steve's-dead-travel-to-Italy-trip back a month, and booked myself to visit Rome. This time I was able to book months ahead and, though would have enjoyed traveling with a companion, didn't flinch at the idea of traveling alone.

But a complication arose between booking the trip and leaving. I met the Piper. And though I was constantly battling feelings that I was a adulteress whore for "cheating" on my dead husband, it was becoming clear to me I was in love. My trip was marked by visiting Roman ruins, and running back to the hotel to Skype. Visiting the Vatican, and running back to the hotel to Skype. Drinking from the aqueducts, eating gelato, visiting museums,  resisting the urge to jump into Trevi Fountain, and running back to the hotel to Skype.

I went to dinner the night of my wedding anniversary, looking over Rome's city lights, and came to peace with removing my wedding band from my hand. And when I returned home from my trip, I had someone special waiting for me. I was ready.

This is the fourth birthday of Steve's since his death. I'm not in Italy. I'm not going to Italy next month. I'm not traveling again until my honeymoon in May, when I'll be traveling with the Piper. We'll be traveling to Spain when we go.

But last night, because the night before an event is when I'm at my weakest, my Piper did something beautiful. After we tucked the girls in bed, he turned down the lights and presented me with a cupcake lit with a birthday candle. He suggested I make a wish for Steve, blow, and then share a special Steve memory. One of my favorites. And that's what we did. Together. I spoke of Steve, our life and love. And my piper sat with a smile absorbing every word.

I'm not in Italy this year. And instead of eating alone at a fancy restaurant, I'll be running kids to swim practice and fitting meals in between trips. I'll be checking homework and reminding everyone to do their chores. I will be yelling at dogs to quit chewing each other's faces off and trying to fold laundry. It will be pure mayhem. And I will love very minute of it.

Today my husband would have been fifty-one. Today I am thirty-nine. Today is so completely different than yesterday.

Happy birthday, my love.

Ghosts That We Knew - Mumford & Sons

So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
'Cause oh that gave me such a fright
But I will hold as long as you like
Just promise me we'll be alright

Holy Sonnet XX: Death, Be Not Proud

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

 - John Donne

36 Months (Three Years)

... 36 Questions I'd Like To Ask...

1. When you got on bended knee and said "I've waited for you my whole life," what followed that? Everything becomes a blank for me except the internal dialog of "ohmygawd, ohmygawd, ohmygawd."
2. What was the conversation you had with my father when you called to ask him permission to marry me? Dad's gone now too, so I can't ask him.
3. What ever happened to that baseball card you used to carry around in your wallet?
4. What was your favorite memory of your father?
5. How old were you when your father died? I always say 20 because I can't remember your exact age.
6. What was your father's funeral like? I can't separate that story from all the shenanigans of other family funerals. I wish you'd been here to tell me about it again when my father died.
7. How did your mother react to being a widow? I never asked. It simply never occurred to me. I feel horrible I never asked her or you about that time in her life.
8. What was your favorite memory of your mother?
9. Who was it that as a toddler, tried to push your mother out of the second story window she was washing?
10. What was your earliest memory?
11. Who was your first kiss and what was that moment like?
12. Where else did you want to travel, besides Italy, in the whole wide world?
13. Did I wake you up every night when I crawled into bed and kissed the scar on your back? You always made a happy little squeak but I never knew if you were conscious of it.
14. Did it ever annoy you that when I couldn't sleep I'd drape my body over yours and then fidget for an hour before finally nodding off?
15. What is the sauce recipe? I can't remember all the parts any more and can't find where we may have written it down.
16. Should I have asked to come see your band practice? I thought I'd be in the way so I always stayed home.
17. Where is the Italian restaurant we went to after you asked me to marry you? I've looked and looked and can't find it.
18. Where did you buy Frosty Paws for the dog? I've run out and can't find them anywhere.
19. Is that extra guitar in the shed the old crappy one my father gave you or one from your childhood?
20. Why is it we never went bike riding together? It's not like we didn't have enough bikes.
21. Where are all our old e-mails from when we were dating? I know you saved them somewhere.
22. What was your favorite book?
23. What was your favorite movie? I can list several but don't know which topped the list.
    
24. What was your favorite song?
25. What was your favorite trip you took with your cousin Frank?
26. What was your favorite trip we ever took?
27. What did you do with all love notes I'd put in your lunches, especially the ones with the count down to our wedding? I know you saved them but I still haven't found the hiding spot.
28. Do you regret not spending more time with your family, the way I do?
29. Would you have thought me a nag if I had badgered you in to seeing a doctor? I always believed it was better to have less time together and be happy than to have more time together and be miserable. Now I wonder if that was a bad decision on my part.
30. What was your biggest regret in life?
31. What was your biggest joy in life?
32. If there was one thing you could do over, the same or differently, what would have it been?
33. Was there anything I kept that you would have wanted to be given to someone after you died?
34. Did you send me all those double rainbows every time I stepped outside to cry that first week after you died or was that just the over-imagination of a traumatized mind?
35.  Did I do it all the way you would have wanted?
36. Can you see me, and if so, are you proud of me? 

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

“Oh, I miss so many things… I miss his voice. I miss his voice telling me he loves me”

-  Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

From Where You Are - Lifehouse

I miss the years that were erased
I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face
I miss all the little things
I never thought that they'd mean everything to me
Yeah I miss you
And I wish you were here

Fate Can Eat Me

Fate, you fickle bitch, you made me fearless when you took everything from me... but we're good now.

Inception

Mal: You remember when you asked me to marry you?

Cobb: yes.

Mal: You said you dreamt that we'd grow old together.

Cobb: But we did. We did. You don't remember? I miss you more than I can bear, but... we had our time together and I have to let you go. I have to let you go.

- "Inception"

Today would have been Steve's and my tenth wedding anniversary. I'm wearing his wedding ring around my neck on a chain he wore all the time. I periodically wrap the chain around my hand as I slip his giant ring over my finger and over my wedding band, which has been moved back onto my left hand for the day. 

We wanted to grow old together. We wanted to live our lives to the end together. And, in a sense, we did. He wasn't supposed to die at forty-seven, leaving me a widow at thirty-six. But he grew as old as he was gonna get, with me. He lived the rest of his life, with me. We wanted more but this is what we received.

As I slowly catch up to him, I remember all we had together. It was good. Better than we ever imagined, and we could imagine a lot. And because I had Steve in my life, I can imagine even more. And on this day, of all days, I demand that 'more' for my life. I demand it for me. I demand it in his memory. I demand it in our memory.

This is all so much harder than I ever imagined. But the love we created together gives me the strength to move forward. I thank Steve for that love every day.

Happy anniversary, my love. You are a part of my very being. I feel privileged to have shared my life with you.

Another birthday he'll never celebrate

Today would have been Steve's 50th birthday. Instead, he'll forever be 47.

This is the first year since his death that I've stayed home in Richmond. The past two years I've gone to Italy. I don't know that it's more difficult or easier, it's simply different. But, damn, I can't get that man out of my head. Puts me in a New York state of mind.

Love you, baby. Always.

 

104 Weeks (Two Years)

... 104 Moments We didn't Get To Share Together...

There are few things in life that we plan out very far. All the same, I can be pretty certain that these moments would have occurred within the last two years.

1. Celebrate your forty-eighth birthday in Venice, Italy.
2. Take a romantic Gondola ride in Venice, Italy.
3. Buy that special piece of Murano glass we were especially looking forward to picking out.
4. Sit in Piazza San Marco, eating home made gelato, laughing at the hundreds of pigeons walking around.  
5. Return home in time to watch the new HBO series, "Boardwalk Empire," all excited to see what Martin Scorsese would create. 
6. Buy you a new pair of work shoes as your current pair are developing a hole in the sole.
7. Go to State Fair to "baaaaa" at the sheep.
8. Watch the movie "Social Network" only because Aaron Sorkin wrote the screenplay.
9. Hold hands as we Walk for Autism.
10. Celebrate our eighth wedding anniversary.
11. Get our haircuts together by our friend John, then all of us going out for dinner.
12. Try to keep our crack-head dog from running away with all the adorable kids who ring our bell on Halloween.
13. Go to DC to watch the Packers lose to the Redskins with our friend Dan.
14. Tailgate at said same game.
15. Walk in to the church where we vote, holding hands.
16. Your joy at sending and my joy at receiving, flowers for no particular reason.
17. Cook Thanksgiving dinner.
18. Go to the theater to watch "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1" in the middle of a Friday so as to avoid all the kids.
19. Pull out all our Christmas lights only to find out they've all burnt out in the same year.
20. Use our backup Christmas lights, which are all red, and promptly name our place the Christmas Hootchie House.
21. The moment when I finally got your guitars hanging on the walls, like pieces of 3-D art.
22. Laugh at our dog as she gets crazier than normal during the first snow fall of the winter.
23. Take our friend Dan to see "The Nutcracker Suite" ballet and, surprisingly, finding out he couldn't really get into it even with a dancing bear.
24. Celebrate the one year adoption anniversary of Belle. Wonder how we survived that long with a knuckle-headed border collie.
25. Invite all our friends over for a big Italian meal on Christmas Eve.
26. Go to Christmas Eve midnight service and giggling like ten year olds through the service cause, really, you can't take us anywhere.
27. Come home on Christmas Eve, sit by the lights of the tree, open a present each and reminisce about getting engaged exactly nine years earlier in Rockefeller Center.
28. Freak the F out when my father fell and broke his hip.
29. Celebrate my thirty-seventh birthday with one of your surprise birthday binders.
30. Ring in the New Year with a kiss and a slow dance. 
31. Finally see your band, The Scrubbs, play somewhere outside of practice.
32. Watch the Packers win the Super Bowl.
33. Buy the new flat screen, high-def, really big tv to watch said Super Bowl.
34. Exchange Valentine's Day, hand written, love letters.
35. You mow the lawn and I plant flowers followed by both of us relaxing and enjoying the view. 
36. Celebrate Dad's seventy-sixth birthday with him.
37. Decorate the bushes out front with pastel, plastic Easter eggs.
38. Walk the Easter Parade talking about all the bands and how you guys could play there next year.
39. Buy at least one stupid thing at Arts in the Park.
40. Mark the moment when your convertible finally hit 30,000 miles.
41. Discuss that now Osama bin Laden is dead, maybe we can go see how the new tower is looking in NewYork, having specifically not gone since it was still a smoking rubble.
42. Find a new favorite HBO series "Game of Thrones" to whittle away our Sunday evenings watching.
43. Have dinner with your brother Frank and his wife on their way south to visit friends - and throwing movie quips back and forth all evening.
44. Have dinner with Doc when he comes to town for business.
45. At this point, probably mark the moment when your convertible finally hit 40,000 miles.
46. Celebrate the forth of July by not watching fireworks amongst crowds of people.
47. Walk out of the theater from watching "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2" all kinda crying because the story is over.
48. Have dinner with Aunt Jean, Uncle Frank, Cousin Frank, Lisa, Samantha, and Michael and asking, yet again, why your family thinks coming to Virginia in July and August is a good idea?
49. Stand next to my father's bed in the hours before he died.
50. Sharing how it was for you when your father died as I cope with the death of my father.
51. Freak the F out when the earthquake that originated in Virgina shakes things up all the way to New York.
52. Try and figure out the right food, the right oils, the right anything to solve the problem of our freaky dog's sensitive skin issue.
53. Get pissed at Hurricane Irene which took out our mulberry tree when, by rights, it should have taken out our black walnut tree.
54. On the ten year anniversary of 9/11, talk about how 9/11 made us both realize that the other was the most important person in our lives.
55.  Sort and haul junk from the garage to the street for bulk pick-up day.
56. Celebrate your forty-ninth birthday in Florance, Italy.
57. Realizing that Galileo and Michelangelo are entombed next to each other at Basilica of Santa Croce, then spending days comparing the two and their work.
58. Walk through Roman ruins in the basements of churches and private buildings, and getting that weird butterfly-time-tummy feeling.
59. Visit so many museums while in Florance that we can start to recognize Medici family portraits without having to read the titles.
60. Laugh hysterically when you see exactly how long it's going to take me and how many t-shirt I'm gonna end up needing to finish the t-shirt latch-hook rug I've started.
61. Go to State Fair and try really hard not to come home with a fuzzy bunny.
62. Celebrate our ninth wedding anniversary.
63. Once again argue if we should give glow sticks and pencils or candy for Halloween. 
64. Walk out of the church where we vote, holding hands.
65. Start to rake the yard only to decide, screw it, we'll mow all the leaves and call it even.
66. Eat Thanksgiving dinner by candlelight.
67. Watch HOB's special on Vince Lombardi. Discuss the Packers of your youth.
68. Go to Lewis-Ginter Botanical Gardens to see the Christmas lights, be disappointed for the second time in a row and vow never to return again.
69. Buy Green Bay Packer stock because you couldn't afford it during the last offering in 1997.
70. Immediately buy Packer Owner clothing for bragging rights.
71. Pick out Christmas gifts for all the kids in the family. 
72. Celebrate the two year adoption date of Belle. Realize we now drink more because of border collie feet licking tendencies.
73. Blow off all our usual Christmas traditions to spend it in New York with your family, as we did ten years earlier when you asked me to marry you.
74. Go back to your old neighborhood and see how it's quickly filling up with boutique hotels.
75. Take a carriage ride through Central Park because the weather is just that nice and you are just that romantic.
76. Go see Alan Rickman in "Seminar" on Broadway because no way we're gonna miss a chance to see Alan live!
77. Finally getting to see your cousin's brand new, gorgeous house with the way cool thermal heating / air conditioning system.
78. Celebrate my thirty-eighth birthday as we normally do - you having meticulously planned the day and me completely surprised.
79. Ring in the New Year drunk off our asses.
80. The happiness you exude when I join you on a work trip.
81. Watch the Packers have a perfect season right up until they didn't. During playoffs.
82. Watch "Rio" on HBO - the only movie where the bird doesn't "get it" (die) and be really excited.
83. Complain that in "Rio" the monkeys (my animal) and the birds (your animal) really should have been on the same side but it's all good cause for once, your side got to win!
84. A romantic Valentine's Day dinner even if it's not actually on Valentine's Day.
85. Share stories about my father on his birthday the first year after he died.
86. Be the only two nerds we know who would spend all day talking about the Titanic the day before the one-hundred year anniversary of it's sinking.
87. Promise that next year we really will bring the crazy foot-licking dog to the Easter Parade.
88. Talk about cooking a special Easter diner and then not make one. Just like every year. 
89. Walk around Arts in the Park talking about how all the painting are really just the same ones secretly moved from booth to booth when we're not looking.
90. Listen to Beastie Boys songs all day when we hear that Adam Yauch died.
91. See Michael and Samantha's first communion. 
92. Cry during Blake and Katherine's wedding ceremony.
93. Talk for a week about the band at Blake and Katherine's wedding. In a good way.
94. Discuss every Ray Bradbury book we've read, in depth, after hearing of his death.
95. Entertain Dan's parents when they came into town for his graduation.
96. Scream our fool heads off when they called Dan's name to walk the stage.
97. Take Dan out for a special graduation / moving away dinner.
98. Excitedly watch the new HBO series "The Newsroom" because finally! Aron Sorkin is back on television where he belongs! 
99. Also? "The Newsroom" music is written by Thomas Newman. Double bonus points!
100. Mourn the loss of the sugar maple falling down on the house from a freak storm.
101. Get excited over the opportunity to upgrade the back porch, thanks to the sugar maple and freak storm.
102. Be royally pissed that the damn black walnut tree, which by all rights shoulda been gone long ago, is still standing unscathed.
103. Celebrate the forth of July by making our own fireworks. In the bedroom.
104. July fifteenth would be a normal day for the two of us. As it has always been.

Slipped Away - Avril Lavigne

Memorial Tattoo

A good amount of the time that I spend thinking of Steve, I spend thinking about how I failed him. How I should have saved him. The little things he loved that I should have done for him more often. The big things I vetoed so we could save for a future we now won't have, that I should have enthusiastically agreed to do. A million ways to feel like a bad wife.

Steve would hate that I do this.

My number one head-shrinker tells me it's survivors guilt. Makes sense. I'm here, he's not, and there's no one in my head to argue with my own bad counsel.

I positively light up when someone tells me about how much he used to brag on me or how much he used to gush on his love for me. Leaves me with the warm and fuzzies for days. Those stories pull me out of my own cycling thoughts of failure and remind me - we had it good. He adored me as much as I adore him.

But those stories are few and far between. It just doesn't come up in conversation very often. So I decided to go and get my own reminder:



Those are his words, his signature, in his own handwriting. I pulled it from the bottom of the card he gave me on our six year wedding anniversary.



And now I can look down and remind myself - we had it good. We adored each other. Every day we woke up and choose each other all over again.

And all those bad thoughts I carry around in my head?

They can just fuck off.

Feels Like Summer

Steve ~

I haven't written to you in such a long time. When you first died, back when I was lucky to get four hours of sleep a night, I'd write you every morning. As soon as the sun came up I'd grab a cup of coffee and the notebook you used to keep music notes, and spend an hour watching the birds at the feeders while writing you how hard it was to face each day.

A lot has changed since then. A lot about me has changed since then.

Tonight I want to tell you about how it feels like summer.

I spent the day gardening. I started gardening a lot last year. Mostly it was something to do with my hands while I tried desperately to chase away the cycling thoughts of you. How much I loved you. How I failed you. How I missed you. How much I wanted to come find you. So I dug in the earth and told myself you were watching me. That I had to behave.

I bought two bleeding heart plants last year. I thought it apropos since it felt like my own heart was bleeding. I never managed to put them in the ground, though. Two weeks ago I went down to Lowe's and bought two more. I got them in the ground the day I brought them home. They're right next to the back porch where the rain is always washing the dirt uneven. Where the slate used to be. I dug up all the slate last year. I dug up the entire grown-over walkway of slate leading from the side gate to the shed. My plan had been to smooth the area out and plant grass. Never happened. But this year I started planting grass. It almost looks like a yard now.

I moved the bird-feeders again the this year. I moved them last year, as well. I think I may have even added a new one or two, but I can't exactly remember. There's so much about last year that I can't remember. But this year I finally got them right. I can see each feeder from any spot on the porch and the wind won't cluster them up again. I even bought some domes to hang over them so the squirrels have a more interesting time trying to rob the birds of their food.

I've managed to keep the feeders stocked since you died. Once or twice I've fallen into a funk and they ran dry but as you always told me: the birds come back when the food is back. The weather has been nice enough that I frequently sit on the back porch around dusk to watch all the birds come and feed. Do you hear me when I sigh and point out the babies fluffing themselves for mama bird? You always like the babies with their constant 'feed-me-now-mama' chirping. I don't feel as lonely without you here to watch them as I did last year. Can you see that, too? Does it make you happy?

I put in an addition to our bird friendly house today. I installed two cedar birdhouses on the back fence. They're supposed to be good for blue birds. I'm afraid I didn't get them up early enough to be used this spring. If not, there's always next year. These won't fall apart like the ones I painted several years ago. I don't think those were actually meant to be hung outside. You never complained when you had to stop your mowing to pick up the pieces, though.

I've been good about the mowing this year, too. I weed whack each time I mow and it makes a huge difference to the look of the place. Last year, I broke down crying every time I mowed. I would force myself to mow because I didn't want to slump on your chores. If you were looking down on me, I wanted you to be proud of the way I pushed through the pain. I wanted you to see me doing all the things you would want to do for me if you were here. Now I do it because it makes me feel good to have a nice looking yard. I enjoy the exercise and the making of my vitamin D.

I have a lot of projects to finish this year. Last year it seems I just tore things out with the plans of replacing or upgrading them. By the time I tore something out I was too upset to finish. I couldn't forgive myself for not having started and finished the project while you were alive to enjoy the change. I don't know if I'll get them all completed this year, as I've found several things I want to do that I'd never before considered. I'm rather excited about those. But did you hear that? I'm excited! I didn't think the day would come when I'd ever be excited to change anything ever again.

I still miss you like crazy, though. Tonight was the first night I had to light incense to keep the mosquitoes away. That smell always makes me look around to see if you're coming through the back door to join me on the porch. And I'm drinking our 'Eastern Shore' concoction. Cheap light beer mixed with clamato juice. I have a lot left over from the barbeque I threw last year. Seems my guests didn't like our drink as much as we did.

And because it was such a hot day I gave your dog a Frosty Paws. I found the box in the freezer after you died. I saw one was missing from the box already. I can't remember if I gave one to Belle last year or if that one was missing because you had given it to her before you died. It saddens me that I can't remember things like that. All the same, when I handed it to her, I told her it was a gift from Daddy for keeping me company in the yard. Do you know she still perks up when I say Daddy? I wonder if it's just habit or if she's still waiting for you to come home.

I know I was. I'm not anymore. And I can't figure out if that makes it easier, harder, or just different.

I love you. With all my heart. And I don't know if you can see me, but if you can, I hope you're proud of me. I was proud of you. Always.

- Karen