A Few Fun Memories

Brian's approach to life:

Don't be afraid to spend more for a well made product.

Buy the one you really want or you'll end up buying two.  

There's almost nothing on this earth that can't be made fun of.

When given the choice, always get the filet. 

It's ok to let other people laugh at you if you know you are the best and the brightest.  

Movies should have explosions, ninjas or zombies. Good movies have all three. 

Brian made me laugh. A lot. He had a bizarre and inappropriate sense of humor, a lightning fast wit and could not be embarrassed. You never knew what would come out of his mouth, but there was a good chance it would be both offensive and hysterical.

Some of his more memorable quotes:

Me: "If I eat all those Oreos, I'll be 300 pounds!" Brian: "You're not going to lose 200 pounds by eating cookies..."

"Shanks.....shooze!" There's a big long story behind this about running through the airport without his shoes because we were late for a flight and he didn't have time to put them back on after security. It's much funnier in person and so much funnier told by Brian (as most stories are). 

Brian making his "shoes" face. 

"You can't trust Jason. He can't tell the difference between filet and a dirty sock." - to a waitress at Olive Garden while discussing which menu items taste the best.

"Rednecks making left hand turns." In reference to Nascar.  

"Snob Cheese" Brian wasn't fancy. In fact, he was adamant about not being fancy. Anytime we did something even remotely formal, he would find subtle ways to hillbilly it up a bit.  When I started buying a particular cheese that I really liked to go with wine or for entertaining, he dubbed it "snob cheese." For whatever reason, it caught on and now pretty much everyone I know calls it snob cheese.

"Poop!" This is a single-word exclamation spoken in high voice and said very quickly. He picked it up from Beavis and Butthead back in the 90s and said it pretty much anytime it was even remotely applicable. 

"God's law is greater!" Always said in his best excited southern baptist preacher voice. Usually used when he wanted to lighten up a conversation about politics or religion. 

"We are Americans. The most powerful country in the world..." While negotiating a refund with a customer service representative of Irish discount airline Ryan Air. 

"Sprechen sie 'boom?'" I don't remember the exact context, but he used to say this a lot when we were in Germany. The general idea was that Brian supported a might-makes-right foreign policy. It translates to: "do you speak 'boom'" in German.

"Wo sind die sheisse haus?" Literally translates to "where is the shit house" in German. This was Brian's unique and ever so tacky way of asking for directions to the nearest restroom. It's worth noting that while "sheisse" translates to "shit" it is not really slang. He might as well have been asking for the fecal house. He got an answer every time though.


My brain function and memory is pretty poor at the moment, so I'm sure there's more to add. Brian had a LOT of catch phrases. 

Everyone Has Needs

My griefshare homework suggested writing a grief letter expressing the things I'm struggling with and how my friends and family can help.  This is my version of that. 

Things I'm struggling with:

Inertia - It's incredibly hard for me to move when I'm resting or rest when I'm moving. I don't change gears or directions very quickly. I'm not as efficient or productive as I was before which makes it hard for me to stay on schedule and get things done. As a result, I'm often running late and unprepared for whatever it is we're supposed to be doing. Conversations with me can be disjointed and hard to follow.  I sometimes get stuck in a single thought process and other times my mind is racing and I can't focus.

Selfish- I have a hard time listening to the things my friends, family and co-workers talk to me about. Even if I try, I find I simply can't care about most of the trivial things that people find to complain about. I'm impatient, intolerant and irritable and listening to someone whine about things that are probably perfectly valid problems is just too much for me.

Can't seem to lose weight? My husband is dead. Your co-worker took credit for your idea? My husband is dead. Your commute sucks, you're going bald, and your wife kicked you out? Those are all valid and serious issues, but I can't seem to find it in myself to care. I'll be quiet while you talk about it and I'll try not to be indignant or dismissive, but in the end, my husband is dead and that's the only thing I can seem to think or care about at the moment.

Isolation -  I'm not terribly interested in going out into the world most of the time. I don't belong there right now. I'm not in the same place as everyone else and I'm very aware of it.  Experiencing emotions when I'm out in public is embarrassing and uncomfortable. I feel like I'm off balance when I am among people. It takes a lot of effort to smile and be cordial and interact like a civilized human. It's completely exhausting. 

I am much more at ease when I'm home. It's secure and stable, my dogs are here and I know where the food is.  I've gotten used to being here without Brian.  I've taken ownership of this space and I'm able to function fairly normally here. 

Some things my friends can do that are helpful

• Hang out with me at my house. I may or may not entertain you, but I'll definitely appreciate your presence. 
• Text/Chat - I find that both real time and asynchronous conversations via text and chat help me feel connected to other people. I can talk and even if something in the conversation triggers an emotional response, it can't be seen on my face. It's up to me to share it. 
• Video Games - One of the most helpful things for me so far has been playing Rocket League with my friend in Texas. It's lighthearted / mindless fun and a great distraction. Best of all, I can play with friends without ever leaving the house. I have XBOX One, Wii U and a PC. Let me know if you want to play.
• Come with me to some place I routinely go - Boyce Thompson Arboretum, Dog Park, church, Eastmark community functions. These are places and activities where I feel stable and secure (most of the time). 

Work - I'm unfocused to say the least. Mental tasks are harder for me and keeping track of details is nearly impossible. I am operating at about 70% capacity at the most right now. Luckily, I started out as a badass, so I'm still more functional than most of my peers.

Troubleshooting and problem solving are stressful for me and it takes much longer to recover from a distraction than normal. I'm less efficient when multi-tasking which means I need fewer disruptions and a less chaotic workflow to be most effective. Oh...and the ridiculous passive aggressive nature of office politics is really draining. I hope my co-workers will be patient and understanding when I don't have the energy to tip toe around their fragile egos.

Money - I have a budget that I can work with but it doesn't include a lot of frivolity. I want to and am able to pay for myself when I'm out with friends, but for now it's best to stick with low or no cost activities and reasonably priced restaurants. Also, if anyone has tips for how to be an avid NFL fan without a sports TV package, that would be great.

Brian and Tess "watching the game" on any given
 Sunday during NFL season at the old house.

Getting Answers

In the first month after Brian passed away I used to have simulated conversations with him in my own mind. At first it wasn't intentional, it just kind of happened. After 21 years together I just know how he would have responded in any given situation and the way he would have replied to things I might say. I know his voice and could recreate it in my mind, so I would just fill in his side of the conversation. It was helpful in working through some of the guilt and regret that comes with the process of grieving.

To be honest, I think I did this when he was alive as well. In fact, I suspect anyone in a long term relationship has probably done it. I would basically have an entire two-sided argument entirely in my own head.  I would think about what I wanted to say and then I would just KNOW what his response would be and how he would sound saying it, so then I would think about it and consider my counterpoint and on and on.

With that in mind, these are a handful of questions I wish I had thought to ask while Brian was still here. I think his answers would have been different in the last few days of his illness than they might have been prior to his diagnosis, but I think I can still make a pretty good guess at how he would have answered.

How do you want to be remembered?
I want to be remembered as a carefree and fun-loving guy who told great stories and made everyone laugh.

What's the most important thing you want me to remember about you?
I love you.
That's cheating, pick something else.
I'm great in bed?
Be serious!
I wanted you to be happy. That's what I want you to remember about me.

What was your single greatest accomplishment?
Being debt free and able to buy exactly the house and furniture and car and pool that I wanted without compromising on any detail. I started out with next to nothing - everything I have represents hard work and perseverance. I'm proud of that.

Will you forgive me? 
For what?
For everything I ever did wrong in our relationship.
Sure. Next question?

Will you pray with me?

Do I have to?
Yes
Then I will.

In the early part of our marriage we argued a lot about going to church and participating in organized religion, so I stopped bringing it up. More recently Brian referred to himself as a Christian and he agreed with me that God's grace was present throughout this experience. I asked Brian to pray with the hospice chaplain and he agreed that he would, but the chaplain got there too late. I know that Brian said the magic prayer when he was a teenager (any christian will know what I'm talking about - if you don't know we can chat later). I'm certain that Brian is in heaven, but I would feel a lot better about it if I had just asked him to pray with ME instead of waiting for the chaplain. 

On a related note:
Lately I've shifted from talking to Brian, who can not hear me, to talking to God, who I believe does hear me. I can never know if the answers I get from God and Jesus are real or if they are similarly simulated responses based on scriptural knowledge or maybe even just giving myself the answer I want to hear. I'm still wrestling with that a little, but I've made a conscious decision to try to abandon doubt and rely on faith.

Brian in storytelling mode.

There's No Way To Make Tears Seem Funny

I find that I like the feeling of tears on my cheeks.

Shortly after Brian died, my brain wouldn't allow me to feel much of anything. I'm thankful for this now, but at the time I thought maybe it was an indicator that I didn't really love my husband or that I was a cold and callous person.

I remember talking to friends and family about it and expressing a fear that I wasn't sad enough. I was afraid that someday it would all come at once and overwhelm me, or that if I couldn't figure out how to feel what I was supposed to be feeling, that I would lose my mind.

After what I think was about a month, the emotional barriers eventually started letting things get through to be processed.

I was driving to work the first time I really, REALLY cried. The feeling of those big, fat hot tears rolling down my face was such a relief.  The pain of grief is all I have left of the love of my life, and feeling the full force of it was so much better than the numbness of those first several weeks.

As time goes by, I find that my tears have changed.  I remember thinking how unusually fat and hot my tears were that time in the car (and on several other occasions since then). I had never cried like that before. These were the tears that Brian deserved. This was the intensity of emotion that our relationship inspired. In that way, it was familiar and comforting to feel those big fat tears burning down my face.

I can't and don't want to live in a state of overwhelming pain. As time passes and I go through the process of grieving, my tears have gotten smaller and they aren't hot anymore. I know this is a good thing, but I still feel guilty when I realize that the intensity is fading. (Please don't comment on that sentence.)

Sometimes I experience emotion and the pain of grief without tears, but it's not as satisfying. My tears are my connection to and expression of the love I shared with Brian. Whether they are the big, burning tears of pain and loss or the quiet, cool stream that comes with the sweet memories of our times together, I find that I appreciate my tears now and am not so eager to wipe them away.

Brian and I in Paris
New Year's Eve 1999-2000

Like an Idiot Misses the Point

My husband passed away in June 2015. I'm participating in a counseling group called GriefShare that recommends keeping a journal of my grief process. The suggestion is to keep a separate private notebook, but I think I'm going to share it here instead. 

Brian and I were a force of nature - beautiful, powerful, transforming, and sometimes destructive. Drew Barrymore and Paul Rudd could make a movie about us, but it would have to be directed by Stanley Kubric (or maybe Quentin Tarantino). 

Our relationship was beautiful and sweet and true. We shared an unconditional love that was tested from all sides. We failed each other and forgave each other over and over for 21 years. Our scars made us stronger. We grew up together. We faced down hard times and celebrated good ones together. Whatever we were doing, we did it together. 

We weren't a perfect couple, but we shared a perfect love and were perfect for each other. If I were a Mad Lib, Brian was the random, funny words that filled in the blanks.

I miss him like an idiot misses the point and I don't really know how to be me without him. 

Brian and I in 1994

Some things I miss about Brian:

• Humor, sarcasm, snark
• Sense of adventure
• Perfect popcorn
• Shenanigans with the dogs
• Enthusiasm for good food
• Prizes and presents
• Unconditional love