Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
It’s okay to say, “I love you”
I cross-posted this at Daily Kos, but thought hey, wouldn’t Karen want me to start writing again? Somehow, I know she would. With the increasing difficulty of our lives, I’d had less and less motivation to write. Partly it’s because that would be time away from Karen, partly because writing made me testy — if I was concentrating and she interrupted me, I could be a real shit to her. Hey, I once quoted that scene from The Shining when Jack gets pissy with his wife over her interruptions. So to keep from being such a shit to Karen, I found myself writing less and less.
Well, she’s gone now. No one here to be a shit to. Maybe I’ll start REALLY writing again — I think she would have liked me to do something constructive (with my grief, with my time here on earth, with everything).
Of course I never realized this would be the last photo we would take as a family. Karen died yesterday after a sudden and unexpected illness.
We weren’t the kind of couple who told each other “I love you” all that often. If anything, we were vaguely suspicious of couples who did say that all the time — as if they were so shaky in their commitment that they had to constantly reassure one another.
But we don’t respect how fragile life can be. If anything, being a doctor makes me even less aware, since I see so many examples of folks hanging on against all odds. And when life is gone, it’s too late to say all the things you want and need to say.
We met at Berkeley just before Christmas of 1982, and we became a couple just shortly thereafter. There was an almost instantaneous sense of belonging, of having found that one person who understood you and whom you could understand. I remember using the cheesy “soul mates” expression when we were courting. Some couples take years to get that reading-each-other’s-mind phase, but we were there pretty early on.
She developed multiple sclerosis in 1984, Christmas, so we had one year to build a relationship before we were tested by fire. It hasn’t been an easy thirty years, but whenever something new and terrible would happen, we could look back and remember all of the tough things we had worked through together.
I’m so angry at the hand life dealt my beautiful wife, but that is not the point of this diary.
She wasn’t a perfect person. No one is. But she was pretty damned awesome nonetheless. I miss her so much.
That’s our son Jacob in that photo. We conceived him against steep odds about 19 years ago. He’s such a wonderful young man — but that’s not the point of this diary, either.
So: life is fragile. It really is. So tell your children and your parents you love them. Most of all, tell your husbands and wives. Tell them all of the things you need them to know, even if you know they know it already. Say it out loud.
I love you, Karen.
Jake does Avedon[/caption]
Full of foo
D.
Howdy, Doug!
I don’t know what to say. Didn’t know your wife, but you mentioned here very, very frequently. I read you’re angry, but be warned: the angry trap is not a pleasant place to be. Take it from someone who’s still there. I wish you and Jake all the best. I know it’s gonna be tough, and I have nothing to comfort you.
Your writing bud Ben
Life: so beautiful and harsh ….
You’re a wonderful man and I wish I could hug you right now.
Thank you, Liam. Trust me when I say, you have done so.
Ben, thank you. You’ve been there for me a lot in the past and I do appreciate you. Emailing you (if I can find your addy!)
Oh, Doug. I am so very sorry.
I don’t really know what to say; no adjectives seem to cut it for describing your loss. I am sending love and hugs to you and Jacob. Please be as kind to yourself as you can be and take things day by day. You have a lot of people thinking & caring about you sending your support.
Long time no hear. My condolences on your loss. Karen always sounded like such a wonderful person. Praying for you in this trying time.
thank you, Edwin.
So sorry to hear that, Doug. I’ve been following your blog almost since the beginning. You and I started over there on blogspot at about the same time, and through reading your varied but always entertaining posts I felt that in a small way I knew you and your family, despite a country’s distance between us and never having actually met. So it’s with sad eyes that I read this today, and a small lump in my throat as I will go downstairs right now and tell my wife that I love her. You’re in my heart and my thoughts, my friend.
Thank you, Matt.
Oh Dr Hoffman,
I have been in you shoes…, let the hurt and anger have you for a short time then start looking around at all your blessings! I’ll keep you in my thoughts.
Mary Ann
Formally with the California Ear In.
Hi Mary Ann! Thank you. And of course I remember you 🙂