It Happened So Fast…

I am spending the last day of my week-long vacation cleaning out my email inbox and came across something I wrote to a close friend the evening that Robo died. I thought I’d share it with you. It happened so fast this afternoon; EMTs, cops, medical examiner … I guess with his constellation of health issues, they wanted a definitive cause of death. The house is finally quiet tonight after hours of chaos. And I have lost my best friend of 30 years. And I didn’t tell him how much I love him today of all days. Go do that right now!

The Last Best Thanksgiving

I am remembering Robo’s last Thanksgving, our last Thanksgiving together. I recently spoke to a friend who is going through a rough patch with a dying relative. She told me, I keep thinking of things in terms of “last” as in last birthday, last Thanksgiving, last Christmas, etc. I told her not to thinnk of them as the last, but the best or the most cherished. And that is what Thanksgiving 2011 is to me, and always will be. Thanksgiving was always Roberto’s favorite holiday, for reasons you can imagine: Food and football, a license to pig out and overdose on sports on TV? It doesn’t get better than that if you are a guy! The menu was fairly simple. We were hooked on Giada DeLaurentiis and her cooking shows, so a lot of the dishes were Giada-inspired. For starters, I made a berry strada. Followed by tomato and green bean casserole. I also made cornbread with creamed corn and jalapeno peppers, rich and creamy. I had found a fresh turkey breast at the grocer and roasted that on my own (later I would come to rely on precooked turkey from Pappas and Honey Baked Ham Co.). Dessert was the …

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Two Years, Two Million Tears

I cannot believe that it will be two years tomorrow since Robo left my life forever. Sometimes it seems as raw and painful as if it happened just yesterday. Some days — most days, actually — I go through my daily routine with Robo tagging along in the back of my thoughts and in my heart. Other days, the grief overtakes me and I have to indulge myself in a tear-fest. Often those happen sitting in my car in the garage outside my house. Other times, in the shower, as I remember the baths he so loved to take, especially in the roll in shower created just for him right after we bought this house. With money gained from his medical malpractice suit.

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A Quote For Roberto

“You’ll get over it…” It’s the clichés that cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life forever. You don’t get over it because ‘it” is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never loses. How could it? The particularness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. This hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no-one else can fit it. Why would I want them to?” ~ Jeanette Winterson (Written on the Body)

Four and Counting….

It’s been almost four months since Robert’s been gone. And I really don’t feel any better about it. I seem to be suffering some kind of delayed grief reaction. By this I mean that I seem to be crying more lately than I did in the beginning, and that may be due to all the myriad things that were going on at that time. Now, I have time to sit and actually think about things and feel them, the way I wasn’t able to back in December. At first, I could fool myself and pretend he was just in the hospital, where he’d spent so much of the time these past few years — and especially in 2011. But that didn’t work for long. Because even in the hospital, we had daily calls and almost daily visits. I’d generally head up to the hospital after work each night or spend most of the weekend up there, dragging my laptop and snacks with me. And of course there are reminders of him everywhere I go. He was my life. Every grocery store, every drive I take anywhere, TV shows, all my routines, were all tied up in Robert. And even though …

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I Will Remember…

How Robert waited until he heard me stirring in the morning to ask what’s for breakfast … our favorite meal of the day. How he thoughtfully brought me an ice cold Big Red to drink in the car when I got out of the hospital after my surgery in 1991. How he spent the next three weeks doing just about everything for me (that I would let him, fiercely independent as I was and still am). How he walked three miles in the pouring rain in shin deep water in 1996 to rescue me and my flooded out 300ZX. How he decided it was time for me, at the ripe old age of 35, to finally see the ocean, even if it meant I’d bitch about the heat and the sand in my shoes. How he snuck around and saved to buy me an art print he saw me admiring and even had it custom framed for me for my birthday one year. (I still have that print; it’s hanging over the mantle). How he always liked to sing in the shower. How he left a mess of soapy puddles and soggy towels after every bath. How handsome he looked …

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