Category: cancer

Month 3

· Leave a comment ·

Dear Jonesie:

It’s month 3 since you left this world. Happy anniversary?! That’s not appropriate. First, I’ll be nice to you. We miss you. We miss your silliness, your laugh, your smile, your grumpiness first thing in the morning, the way you never know what’s going on any given day. We miss your playfulness, your abilities with the grill, your hugs, your kisses, your love. We miss it all. The good, the not so good and the in between. But we’re doing ok.

Jack just finished his best basketball season yet. He was confident on the court, he was a real leader and he had FUN! Something we’ve been trying to get him to do for years. We have one weekend off and then baseball season starts. Our favorite season (yours and mine that is). This is the first year you won’t be coaching and gosh we’re gonna miss not being able to watch you not pay attention while coaching first base, looking around at everything but the game. Haha! Jack hasn’t expressed whether he’s looking forward to baseball or not. I’m hoping the confidence and leadership will carry over from basketball season but you never know with that boy. You know how baseball is a little bit tainted for him without you.

In other shocking Jack news (seriously, if you were here, this would shock the pants right off of you) – he signed up to do the talent show at school. WHAT?! How out of character is that! He’s going to do stand up comedy. I am floored. You would be floored! He had me order a whoopee cushion today (don’t worry, it was only $5) because that is the prop he needs for his act. I’m so proud of him. You would be so proud of him. He’s blossoming (doesn’t seem like a fitting word for a boy of 10 but whatever), maybe growing is the right word, into such a confident and inspiring young boy/man (boy doesn’t seem right, man definitely isn’t right – so some hybrid in between).

Mr. Tolt is still in the thick of his basketball season. He has improved so much from the beginning. He’s starting to score baskets in practice and even scored once in a scrimmage. Still waiting on the big game score – it might happen, it might not, but he is trying, still great at galloping and mostly having a good time. He just had to bring in a family picture for his Spanish class at school. I was nervous, talked to his teacher about what to do. His family has changed. You, of course, will always be his dad, but I didn’t know if this picture would upset him and I didn’t want that to happen. But this is Mr. Tolt we’re talking about here – blunt, matter of fact, straight shooting Mr. Tolt. Of course he will bring in a picture of his family and it will be a picture with Mama, Daddy, Jack and me. That boy amazes me. He grieves for you all the time. He will sit down, a somber look will come over his face and he will say I miss Daddy in heaven. I wish he didn’t have to go to heaven. I always say me too, buddy, me too.

T-Ball season is right around the corner for our Mr. Tolt. He still hasn’t decided if he’s playing. He really wants a trophy, though, so I think he’s leaning towards yes. The problem is I can’t remember if you get a trophy in T-ball. When he turns 6, I think Boy Scouts/cub scouts will be a great option for him. He’s our outdoorsman. Remember the commercial (I think it was Geico) with the young, rich maybe brother and sister and they’re off to some sporting event that they have no idea about and they’re like “yaaayyyy sports!”. That’s Mr. Tolt. Only he’s not rich. And doesn’t have a private jet. But he really doesn’t get sports. Or love them. Or particularly want to participate. Your brother seems to think that’s going to change and he’s going to surprise us all. We shall see.

Me, I’m ok. This isn’t easy, but we knew it wasn’t going to be. I want to move. I know we spent all that time and money trying to make this house what we wanted, but it’s just not what we want. First of all, the fire station building is still going on, may never end and just all around sucks. Ok, I know it will end but between it and public works, I’m over it. We’ll miss being able to walk to school but you know how much I love to ride and drive in the car, so it’ll all be just fine. The memory of you leaving us behind in our living room is too much to handle. Our memories here are mostly of illness, disease and death. We deserve a fresh start.

I’ve narrowed the lot search down to 2 and I really think I know which one I want, but I wouldn’t mind a little guidance from you somehow if you would be so kind. Except I know you won’t. Someone told me that our loved ones come back to us in our dreams. I’ve dreamt of you exactly 1 time. What the fuck, man? I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Ash. You do what you want, when you want, on the timeline you want. I should be used to it by now. But seriously. I’d love to see your face in my dreams. I’d love to know that you’re still here with us, checking in, keeping your eye on us.

I’m still doing the ladies golf leagues at Turf’s Up. It’s not the same. I’m grumpy every time I go. I want you to be impressed by this, though. I was on bay 4 on Monday and I hit some pure shots. I know they were pure because you taught me so well. I can now tell the difference between greatness and shit. And I had some greatness Monday night. And some shit. Because it’s me. Ha! Anyway, the greatness that I could feel was registering as shit on the screen so I said something to you know who. He told me he was on that bay earlier and it was just fine. I was pretty bitchy and said no it’s not and we kind of moved on. It pissed me off because you know how competitive I am and you know I want to win and I knew I was right because, let’s face it, you and I both know I am right 98.9% of the time. It’s both a blessing and a curse. (Also, side note, the team next to us scored a +7 Monday night and you know who entered into the scoreboard as a +6 – don’t think I didn’t notice, I did, and I’m mad.). Anyway, guess who texts me last night to tell me I was right, cameras were reading the wrong launch angle? It was said you know who. And this girl was right. Coz I know stuff. About golf. And golf simulators. Thanks to you. I also think my teammate and I should get like 4 mulligans next round for the inconvenience. But I’m not in charge. Boo.

We have a 4 day weekend this weekend. Today is the anniversary of your death. Friday is Valentine’s Day. So we’re getting the fuck out of dodge. We can’t be here and our lovely friends in West Virginia invited us to come stay with them for the weekend. Wish me luck. 8 hours there and back with the boys. What am I thinking? It will be an adventure, though. And it will be a distraction. And that’s what we need. Plus, we get to see our friends and we’re so excited about that.

I know this is getting lengthy, but I haven’t talked to you in 3 months. And I have so much to say. You should understand that, no one can talk more than you. I’m still pretty angry with you. And God. And myself. I often wonder if I had forced you into more treatment, would you still be with us today? But I know that wasn’t what you wanted. Or the right thing to do. I know you were suffering. And I know you are exactly where you are meant to be now.

Just to piss you off a little bit, I let the boys shower and use our bathroom every day. I don’t know why that bothered you so much, but ha! I’m in charge now. There are guys and trucks in the bottom of our shower all the time. It would annoy the shit out of you. They also use our fence toilet every day. I kind of understand your annoyance with that one, though. Those dudes can’t aim for shit! It’s gross! The boys still sleep in the same room. They need each other. Maybe, once our new house is built, they will go back to their own rooms. I’m fine with it either way.

Your puppy has apparently entered her “teen years” according to the vet and that means she’s rebelling, as teens do. Do you know how teen dogs rebel? They piss and shit on the floor again. Cool, huh? She’s still really cute but I’m close to my wit’s end with her. Maybe you could send some magic heaven voodoo down to make her stop. Is that possible? The brown girl is still Dog Kellie – bitchy, moany, groany and mostly annoyed but very cute ;). She get’s grayer by the day and that one tumor on her underside seems to be growing at quite a rapid rate. Maybe you need her? But we still need her here so ease up, would you?

Your mom is hanging in there. We’ve had many cries together. Colt is still her favorite. They spend some good, quality time together. She watches the boys on Mondays when I go to golf league and she picks Colt up from school once a week. She’s come to all their basketball games and so has Steve. I just love Steve. One of the best men around.

I know I’ve said it, but we miss you so much. We hope you are happy, pain free and giving God some good tips on his golf game. Check in on us when you can. We’re here and we’re ok.

Love,

Poopsie, Donkey and Mr. Tolt

The Purge Part 2

· Leave a comment ·

I did it again. I got the dump trailer back and finished The Big Purge as I’m calling it (that’s not true, I’m not calling it anything, just felt like it needed a label. It really doesn’t.)

Moving on, I went through my bathroom, most of the office, the kitchen and both boys’ rooms (shhhh, don’t tell them how many toys and stuffed animals I actually got rid of, it’s a need to know basis, and they DON’T need to know. They also won’t even notice unless specifically told. Because they have too much shit). I went through the garage and then underneath the house where apparently we stored either medieval torture devices or yard tools that I will never touch, can’t be sure which they were.

I worked my ass off yesterday though. I was dirty, sweaty, grimy, smelly (in 5th grade, people thought it was cool to call me smelly Kellie, so original), sweary and all around disgusting. But it sure did feel good! I liked to pretend I was a spear thrower especially with the torture devices/yard tools (I’d let you be the judge but that shit is gone!) throwing them as hard as I could into said dump trailer. There is something very cathartic about throwing heavy things as hard as you fucking can into a trailer than can’t really be damaged (not by me throwing anyway!).

Side note, just got a call on my cell phone from myself. I didn’t answer. I should know I don’t like to talk on the phone. Next time, me, text me if you want a response.

Anyway, as usually happens with The Big Purge (make me stop calling it that), I found another notebook. An Ash notebook. Oh how he loved his lists. (I think I actually channeled my inner Ash with this whole house, moving, building decision because I made lists. Pros. Cons. Neutrals. Ups. Downs. Backs and forths. So, don’t worry, I’m not taking this whole move thing lightly. I’m not leading with my heart. I’m using my big ol’ brains this time around and I think my big ol’ brains are pretty spot on.) Anyway, a lot of tangents here. Sorry.

Back to The Ash Notebook (apparently I’m labeling that, too. Very into labels today). This notebook was one that he started post cancer/ sir-I’m-sorry-to-tell-you-that-you’re-dying-at-age-37 diagnosis. A lot of it was notes on the big words we had been told but didn’t understand. There were phone numbers and doctor names, appointments at Johns Hopkins and Duke, addresses to said appointments, notes on what to bring with us, new vocabulary words such as biliary, esophageal-gastric and tumor markers. There was also some random Turf’s Up notes in there and all star baseball information.

But, also, in The Ash Notebook was a list of all the places he wanted to visit while he was still here with us on Earth. Ash loved to travel. Aside from golf, it was his biggest passion. He was happiest when he was somewhere new, experiencing something different. Some of the places on his list, we actually made happen and some of them we didn’t. We made it to Durango, Silverton, Ouray and Telluride, CO. We made it to Ft. Worth and Austin, TX but did miss out on San Antonio. He made it out to California with Jack but not to the places he was hoping for – San Francisco, San Diego and Redwoods National Forest. We even made it to “somewhere warm and tropical with an oceanfront room.” We went to Jamaica with our boys and had exactly that! How lucky are we? There were only a couple of places he didn’t make it to – Arizona (Tucson, Scottsdale and the Grand Canyon), Ireland (though, to be fair, I think it was his dream to take me there because I wanted to go more than one of his bucket list places), New York City (this one we tried to make happen a few different times but because of either kids, their sports, his treatment schedules and just the way he felt every day, we never did make it happen). We made a lot of it happen, though and I am so grateful for that.

Also in this notebook, I found some notes to me and I thought I’d share them, because it’s exactly what I needed to read, exactly what my heart needed today. I’ve been struggling a lot lately. My anxiety has been high. I’m worried for the future, for the boys, for always being alone, just so much anxiety and this was the soothing balm that my mind, body and soul needed. Here it is:

Kellie:

I’ve been with you a third of my life! 12 years – married for 10 – 2 kids and a Bogey! Wow! 

Words are good but actions are better. 

You show me every day how much you love me and the boys. Selfless, tireless, caring, committed and devoted…

It has been amazing to watch our family grow – and thrive – together – you and I – every step of the way through life, adulthood, parenthood and beyond. Our bond is sacred and special.

No matter what the future holds for us, our past – memories, the history we have together will always keep us comforted. We have weathered so many of life storms together and there will be more ahead – but we will always be together no matter what because you are a part of me and I am a part of you.

I see you in our children like I see myself. The greatest gift you could give me – you already have – it’s your love. As hard as life can be, it’s the people you surround yourself with and spend your time with that truly makes life special. My life could not be more special thanks to you.

He’s so right. He will always live on in our memories and in our hearts. We lived so much in our time together, and while his time has ended, I’m still here. My boys are still here. I think we needed this reminder. Yes, it’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to be angry. But let it come and let is pass. And then live the shit out of this life. Love the shit out of each other. Inhale the good. Exhale the bad. And just keep going. Do what Ash would do. Live with passion and love and humor and travel and all the wonderful things that this life has to offer.

Thank you, Jonesie, for this reminder. Thank you for always being here when I need you most. The boys and I will love you always and we will honor you by living our asses off.

My Achy Breaky Heart

· Leave a comment ·

I remember the first time my heart was truly broken. I was 15 years old and my first “real” boyfriend had broken up with me. I can’t say that I blame him. While super cute at age 15 (haha!), I was also super insecure, jealous and an all around bitch. But I remember that pain like it was yesterday. It took me years, literally, to really get over it. I can remember every day, for a while anyway, waking up and knowing something wasn’t right, not quite remembering what and then it hitting me all over again. That deep ache in your chest, the gut-wrenching sense of loneliness, the wondering if you were ever going to be ok again or ever find love again or always be this sad, broken, spinster. Ok, so I was a bit dramatic at age 15, but, hey, at least I’m honest. I’ve grown a bit since then. At least a bit. The point is that it was awful and I can still feel that 15 year old me’s pain. The pain of rejection. Is there any knife that cuts deeper? Maybe just one.

I had another serious relationship in college. It ended from natural causes. While it made me somewhat sad, it wasn’t the pain that I had felt all those years ago. I graduated. He was transferring 6 hours away. He asked me to go with him. I thought about it, applied for jobs and then said no thank you. Take your cat, but leave my sweater. He moved to the mountains; I moved to the beach.

I had a series of other “friends” over the next few years but no real heartbreaks. Maybe some rejection that stung but easy enough to get over. I was maturing. Ha. Ha.

And then I met Ash. And we know how that went. It took a while to get going, but once it did, man, did we have fun. He ended up by moving away from our cozy little beach town. I felt that awful heartbreak all over again. Not because we broke up, but because he wasn’t an every day part of my life anymore. I loved him. And he was gone. (Ash had this great knack for always leaving me wanting more – in my more immature days, I think most of the time dating someone was more about “winning” and getting what I wanted; once I did, I got bored and moved on. With Ash, I never felt like I was winning and boy did that work! I’m not saying it’s right, I’m just saying that’s how I was at that point in my life. Stop judging me!) I’m not sure if he asked me to come or if I forced it upon him (he would tell you it was all me; I will tell you that it was both of us), but either way, 3 months later we were living together in Durango, CO in a studio apartment (our bed was literally right next to our refrigerator) making a “living” being mountain bums (instead of beach bums). Being the spoiled little brat that never left her comfort zone that I was, it was a hard transition for me. I made it so much harder than it had to be instead of just living and enjoying. I guess hindsight is always 20/20 and that’s not really the point of me writing this. Ash was great at getting me or anyone really out of their comfort zone. It was one of his gifts. He liked to draw the box and live just outside of it!

We lived in Durango; moved to Denver; got pregnant; moved to Texas; got married; had a baby; moved back to our cozy little beach town where it all began; we worked jobs we hated; we fought a lot; we went to therapy; we took cool vacations; we had another baby; we quit the jobs we hated; we opened a business; we got cancer (yes, we, Ash, Jack, Colt and me); we sold a business; we took more cool vacations; we died (yes, we, Ash forever; for the rest of us, life as we knew it died.)

Death cuts more than any rejection knife ever could. It’s so final. Unless, of course, Ash is a Jedi and we didn’t know it and he’ll come back to us in hologram form but only when we’re really in trouble. In which case, send on the Sith, I’d really like to see my person again.

All jokes aside, I have grown from that 15 year old girl (bitch). Obviously I feel a shit ton of pain. But it doesn’t consume me. I’m able to get up, get dressed, function and even have fun. I’ve had lots of fun over the last almost 2 months since Ash has been gone. But it’s all tainted with heartbreak. So many times I have so many things to tell him, or text him, or call him to say. The other morning I woke up to this pushing on my lower back, to the point where I thought I was going to fall out of bed and I reached my arm back and said out loud, Ash, stop. But it wasn’t him. It was his damn puppy. Because he’s not here. I know I sound like a broken record. But fuck. It fucking sucks.

Beautiful, Awful Day

· 1 Comment ·

Full disclosure – there’s a lot of whining going on here. Proceed with caution if at all.

It’s Christmas. We did it. We made it through. The boys were strong, happy and, you know, young boys who are slightly less than grateful.

Christmas Eve was the same as it always is, except someone was missing. I had my parents over, Ash’s mom, my brother and his wife. We had our traditional Christmas Eve fare of hors d’oeuvres and vodka. Not for the kids. They didn’t have vodka. It was mainly for me, don’t worry. The boys opened a couple of presents. But someone was missing. It hit me several times yesterday that he wasn’t there. If the boys ever noticed, they didn’t say anything. They had a wonderful time, ate until their bellies were near popping and jumped and skipped around like they were all hopped up on Santa and Mountain Dew, except it was Coca Cola because that’s so much better for them (insert eye roll here)!

We tracked Santa. The boys went to bed. My mom and brother stayed at the house so that I didn’t have to do everything alone. They were super helpful. Super loving. But someone was missing. I couldn’t sleep. I literally felt like my chest was caving in most of the night. Because someone was missing.

Christmas morning came. My oldest woke us all up by coughing as loudly as he could for several minutes. The boys still had the same excitement that they always have. It is me that is different. I half relished in their joy and half wanted to climb in my bed and not reemerge for a week or two. They got bikes, nerf guns, a baseball net, video games, more Star Wars action figure than anyone on Earth could possibly need and all the love they need. But still, someone was missing. I noticed. All day I noticed. We had breakfast – sausage gravy, biscuits and hash brown casserole, same as always, but again, someone was missing. Everybody left after breakfast. It was just the boys, me and dogs.

They played with all their new toys. I probably snapped at them more than once. We tested out the bikes, although very short lived, because, unfortunately, someone was  missing and this girl had a flat tire that she thought she had pumped up, but apparently needed to add “teach me how to pump up a tire” on that all important list of shit to go over before you peace the fuck out on me. We watched a movie. More family came to visit. Someone was still missing. And my fucking God, does it hurt. Bone deep. Pain. Tears. Anger. Sadness. Grief.

We went to dinner at my parents’ house. Prime rib, twice baked potatoes, roasted broccoli, yeast rolls, fresh cut vegetables. One of Ash’s favorite meals. And he wasn’t here. He was missing. I ate my dinner silently. I cried at the end of my meal. Then I ate a piece of 12 layer cake, then cried for a different reason. I got in my car, drove my babies home and cried the whole way. My oldest asked what was the matter. I just said Daddy. And he understood.

We got home, took showers, cozied up on the couch and watched junky TV. I put them to bed, read to them for 40 minutes, laid with them until they fell asleep. And now, here I sit, still fucking crying. Because someone is missing.

Someone told me not long ago to use my boys. They are a great distraction. And they are, except they are little and I am strict. I enforce bed time (not always but a lot of time) because it’s important and necessary. But then comes that loneliness again. Because my person is fucking missing. And I fucking hate it. (In case that wasn’t clear.)

Merry Christmas. It was one beautiful, awful day.

Christmas and Birthday and New Years, Oh My!

· Leave a comment ·

I woke up today feeling more tired than I have in a long time. My chest hurt and there was a knot in my stomach. I woke up sad. I sat up in bed and I cried. I looked at my husband’s side of the bed, so still, so untouched and it made me feel sick. The one thing I have learned thus far is you never know what any given day is going to make you feel, you never know what song will trigger your eyes welling up with tears (today it was the always classy Get Low by Lil Jon – not generally considered a tear jerker but Ash and I had so much fun with that song every time it came on – I was in the middle of my workout, the sweat dropped down my balls (not really, I don’t have balls) and the tears rolled out of my eyes.)

Christmas is 2 days away. I have never felt less Christmasy in my life. There are very few presents under my tree. There are no presents under my tree that were bought by me for anyone. Don’t worry, I am giving my children Christmas I just can’t bring myself to wrap anything or display anything. I’ve yet to watch one single Christmas movie, which is strange for me (that’s a lie, I watched Bad Moms Christmas but it’s more raunchy-gross-why did I just waste time watching this type movie). I didn’t decorate the outside of my house this year. Well, as you know, we have all those lights but I wasn’t sure where the hell I was supposed to hang them. I haven’t kept up with the countdown calendar, taken the boys to see Christmas lights, I’ve barely even mentioned Christmas, until now, where I’ve mentioned it every other word! I’m just not feeling it. I want to feel it, but I can’t get there. Especially today for whatever reason.

Next up, 3 days after Christmas is my oldest son’s 10th birthday. Historically, we’ve always taken Jack on an adventure rather than buying him more junk that he doesn’t need. And it was generally a trip that was just the 3 of us. We went to a Redskins game one year, last year we went to a Golden State Warriors game (in DC, we’re not that nice), we’ve done Disney trips and Universal trips (and that is what both boys are getting for Christmas, so still adventuring to be had) but I can’t think of anything that will compare to years past adventures with Dad. I can’t imagine how he must be feeling. He would never tell me. He’s a closed book, my boy Jack. He doesn’t express much other than anger and irritation but so do I, so he gets it honest.

But no adventuring trip for him this year. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I went the complete opposite and am re-doing his bedroom and got him a TV for his room, which I know, he doesn’t need, but that’s what I did so kiss my ass. And maybe he does need it. Maybe he does need his own separate space where he can kick back and relax and watch what he likes without his brother or me complaining in his ear about watching Star Wars  Rebels for the 89754638th time.

Next up, New Years, which really isn’t a thing but feels like such a big thing this year. Ash and I always did something for New Years – went to friends, had friends over, nice dinner out, always something. Last year was the first time that we didn’t. He was asleep before 9:30. But he was here. He was with us. We could see him and touch him and squeeze his hand and kiss his forehead. This year we can’t. And we’re ending what was undoubtedly the worst year of our lives and starting another new chapter in another new year. It’s a little scary, a lot sad and somewhat overwhelming. How does time just keep marching on? How can it go so unbelievably fast? Why won’t the knot that’s in my stomach today loosen up? Or the tears dry up? And lastly, why the fuck won’t the house clean itself?

Some Friendly Advice from an Idiotic Widow

· 1 Comment ·

As you all know, I never would have imagined being a widow at 37 years old, because who does, right?! (But here I am, killing it! What?!) The good news, we had over a year to prepare. The bad news, in that year we did many, many different things, but was so called “preparing” one of them? Not so much.

Now before I go any further, to my feminist friends, please keep your judgement, comments and general dislike of anything I’m about to say to yourself. I got enough issues so worrying about if I have offended your very modern ways of life isn’t one of them. I’m pretty modern, too but I was also raised to be a bit old fashioned. I’m not saying I can’t do anything a man can do, I’m just saying that there are some things I would prefer a man to do (talking around the house, etc., get your mind out of the gutter! Or keep it there, that’s where I prefer to keep mine!) Literally, though, there are actually some things that a man can do (around the house) that I can’t do or at least can’t do satisfactorily. Seriously. I took the ASVAB in high school (like an aptitude test to see what I should be when I grow up – still haven’t figured it out so total waste of time but that’s another story for another day – it did recommend funeral director which I find hilarious because I couldn’t be a more awkward person around any kind of tragedy) and on the mechanical portion, guess how many I got right? If you said 0 then you are absolutely 100% correctomundo. 0 out of however many. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, I have 0 ability to figure out anything mechanical.

Now, I’ve probably learned a bit in the last 20 years and I could potentially take that aptitude test again (I’m not going to but I probably could) and maybe get 1 or 2 right. But for the most part, I’m still that dumb ass 17 year old taking aptitude tests just to get out of class and failing mechanics.

So I write to you today to help you should tragedy fall upon you (I pray not but shit happens) and you need to figure out how the hell to do the shit your spouse used to do without your spouse. (My spouse was male and I’m a female so this may be sexist in nature but I can only write what I know.) These are the things I wished I had asked Mr. Wonderful when I had the chance (household things, there are many things I’d still like to ask but again, another story for another time):

  1. How the hell do you shut off the water to the outdoor shower and water hose hook up thingys (actual name) when the temperature falls below freezing? (thank goodness for my dad and brother being way more mechanical than me, for I still had running water this morning because of their magical mechanical powers)
  2. Should you own rental properties together, find out what your spouse has told the tenants regarding what they can and cannot do with regards to improvements to the home (specifically new thermostats) so that when they call with an issue with said thermostat that you had no clue about, you don’t sound like such a bumbling ass.
  3. Where the fuck are all the tape measures? I know we have at least 3. Can’t find a damn one.
  4. Why do we have so many tools, especially rusty old saws? What were we sawing? In our 13 years together, I’m not sure I saw you saw anything but we sure do have plenty of saws. Some still in the wrapper, some covered in so much rust I feel like I have tetanus just looking at them.
  5. What the fuck am I supposed to do with all these golf clubs? Seriously, there are sets upon sets upon sets of golf clubs in the garage. Anybody looking to take up the sport? I’ve got you covered, for a small fee!
  6. Surf boards. We have 6 surf boards. Sure, when we were dating he “surfed” (I use the term surf quite loosely, I’m not sure I saw you catch more than 3 waves in all our time together). Too bad you didn’t store the tape measures with the surf boards, then I’d be able to find them.
  7. Where the hell are the instructions for the ridiculous fancy toilet seat you got me for Christmas last year? (Seriously ladies, in front of my whole family, I open a gift from my husband and it’s a heated toilet seat with many other functions that only a girl can generally dream of. Eat your hearts out. Sorry, he was taken and sorry, now he’s gone!)
  8. Grilling. I don’t know how to grill. Don’t know how to change the gas. Don’t know how to exchange the gas tank. Don’t know how to turn the fucker on. The boys are seriously concerned they are never going to get steak again. Why didn’t you teach me to grill? Why didn’t I think to ask you to teach me to grill?
  9. Why do we have a strand of Christmas lights 100 feet long when our porch is smaller than an REI two man tent? Where were we going to put all those? (which makes me think bend over and I’ll show ya!)
  10. Lawn mowing – we have a push mower and a riding mower. Don’t know how to use either one. The boys don’t know how to use either one. Well, Colt probably does but there’s probably laws against 5 year olds cutting grass. Also, what’s the gas/oil ratio? Where does the gas/oil go? Same spot? Different spots? I’ve also never filled up a gas can at a gas station? Is it just like filling up your car only you have to really pay attention or you overflow the can? I hate to smell like gas. Doesn’t seem like a job I want.
  11. Why on God’s green Earth was our online banking in your name? You have never online banked a day in your life. You didn’t even know how to log in to the online banking. When I went to the bank to advise of your passing (thanks a lot, ass hat) they took away our online banking because it was in your name and I need to create my own, thereby taking away all of the myriads of bills I paid from said online banking. Therefore, I missed the car payment last month, the Home Depot payment and the damn power payment. Ugh!
  12. Plants. I don’t do plants. I can’t keep them alive. Hell, I couldn’t keep Mr. Wonderful alive despite my (and really Duke’s) best efforts. I have received many plants since Ash passed away. One of them is already outgrowing it’s stupid pot, getting dirt/soil all over everything. Ash did the plants (full disclosure, he wasn’t much better at it than me but he at least cared, I don’t care). I’ve tried neglecting these plants (sorry to whoever gave them to me). They’re supposed to be in sunlight, I have them next to closed blinds. They probably need water. Don’t think I’ve watered them yet. They are still living. And fucking huge. And need to be repotted. And I don’t want to do it!

That’s my list thus far. I know, I can figure all these things out and I probably will and I’ll be better and stronger for it, blah, blah, blah. But I really don’t want to. Those were his jobs. I have plenty of my own jobs and don’t have the time (or let’s face it, the desire) for all these new jobs.

So, in closing, should you be faced with tragedy in your life, be sure to find out where the fuck the tape measures are. You might need them.