August 2022
My year of “firsts” without Steven has officially come to an end. I’ve leapt over every hurdle, from Henry’s first day of 4th grade to what should have been our 14th wedding anniversary. I have deftly cleared them all. I feel like I’ve run a marathon, and now it’s time to receive my medal.
One year ago today, as I held his hand and played Shawn Colvin’s Sunny Came Home, Steven took his last breath. I walked into that hospital ‘a wife’ and I came out ‘a widow’. I hadn’t been expecting that to happen, not that day.
The truth is, I was terrified of bringing him home to die. There was a part of me that felt grateful that he died in the hospital, quietly and without pain. More than that, I was relieved that the terrible thing had happened, and after 3 years of treatment and scans, it was over.
Does that mean I am happy Steven died? Of course not, but the event, ‘his death’, and the feeling, ‘my relief’, are inextricably intertwined. Death did part us, and I still feel gratitude that I didn’t have to watch him fade away in our home. My home.
Today I am a stranger in a stranger’s home. I am surrounded by people Henry and I didn’t know a year ago; people that Steven will never know, and yet they have become constants in our lives.
Jane is taking photographs from her lounge chair, while Marco, Sam, Henry and I play in the pool. This is the day they could come back, so I tell myself that Steven would be happy to see the light again in his son’s eyes, and in mine.
I look around and realize I’ve created this scene from nothing. I scouted the location and auditioned players for each part. I wrote the script and directed the actors, but now I’m having a hard time deciphering reality from fantasy.
“Girls against the boys!” Sam yells as we set up for another round of “monkeys” in the middle.
“Okay, we need a strategy,” I whisper in Sam’s ear. “Your dad has an unfair height advantage, so don’t throw the ball directly to me. I can swim for it faster than he can.”
Sam nods her head and smiles as I take my place at the deep end of the pool. My strategy works for a couple of throws, but Marco’s desire to take down me and his daughter is too fierce. Predictably, we are quickly sent to the middle.
“Okay everyone, I’m headed to the train station in a few minutes!” Jane half yells so I can hear her at the other end of the pool.
She’s going back to the city to meet her “mum”, who is arriving for a two week visit from England. “I ordered your lunch which should arrive in half an hour.”
“Thank you Jane!” I say as I make my way to her on the deck by the shallow end of the pool. “We’ll see you at home in a couple of days.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about the concert,” she says.
“I don’t want to spoil anything for you,” I laugh. “Tell me again when you’re going. A week from Saturday?”
“Yes! Should I be at your place at 7:00 PM?” she asks.
“Perfect,” I say. “That’s plenty of time to get to the Garden. I’m meeting Marco and Sam there, so I can leave closer to 7:15 PM.”
“I can’t wait to see what you’re wearing,” Jane says. “Something pink and sparkly I hope!”
“Of course!” I say. “Okay, you’d better get going. I don’t want you to miss your train.”
When Jane told me she was going to see Harry Styles at Madison Square Garden I immediately thought of Sam. I was never into his boy band, One Direction, but I like his solo music. More than that, I love his gender-bending sense of style. He’s known for wearing sparkles and feather boas, as am I.
Dressing up in sexy costumes and lingerie makes me feel beautiful. It also distracts me from thinking about death and grief. Taking photos of myself dressed this way forces me to take a shower and wash my hair. It gives me a reason to get up in the morning, and I’m psyched I finally have somewhere to go.
I cannot remember the last time I went to a concert. Steven and I had such different tastes in music, it just wasn’t something we would enjoy together. Henry is very sensitive to crowds and loud noises, he even stays in the house when Jane and I turn on the Sonos by the pool. There’s no way I could take him to the Garden for live music.
“Mom! I’m hungry. When’s the food getting here?” Henry says, leaning out of the french doors. He’s gone inside to play video games and Zoom with his friends while Marco, Sam and I hang out on the lounge chairs.
Just as I look at my phone to check the time, a car pulls into the driveway.
“It’s here,” I tell him. “Why don’t you guys sit down at the picnic table while I get the food.”
I grab the large bag from the landing outside the front door and take it to the picnic table. It’s another late lunch, so we all dig in, famished from hours in the pool. Marco and I chat a little bit, but Henry and Sam don’t have much to say to each other.
It occurs to me that on the outside, we look like a typical suburban family of four, but we are not. I know I am Henry's mother and Steven’s widow, but I cannot shake the feeling that I’m onstage. Again, I have a difficult time separating reality from fiction.
By the time we finish eating it’s time for Marco and Sam to head back to the city. I’m grateful that Henry is with me. I will not be left standing outside, longing for someone to stay with me or take me with them.
For the first time in 6 months, when I say goodbye to Marco I know when I will see him again. Nothing is left in limbo, we have a set plan to meet in 2 days in our seats at Madison Square Garden. I finally feel like my feet are planted firmly on the ground.
How could I know the rug I was standing on would soon be pulled out from beneath me….
31. One Year A Widow