Sparkly Human

I received a beautiful note from a friend of Dave’s and mine, who had come across this writing space and wanted to reach out to let me know a few things. He had always thought of Dave as someone “better”. By better he didn’t mean that Dave had a self-inflated sense of himself (although he could have been considered cocky by many! LOL) he meant that Dave had something about him that attracted other people, engaged other people and allowed people to feel special.

My sparkly husband. Can’t you just see the charm?

I am wary of romanticizing Dave. I know it’s easy to build the dead into legendary figures posthumously. He was in reality, like many guys, and in many ways we had a very typical relationship and life together. We were not exempt from fighting, being grumpy or falling into other typical couple and family problems. He was messy, he wasn’t the best emotional communicator but he always lived “REAL”. Annoyingly, he always seemed to just get it. I’m talking about anything. Like any problem that you or I might encounter whether it be emotional or a simple everyday issue, he could cut through all the layers of stuff that the rest of us needed to wade through for years in therapy or just by making mistakes, and just see the answer. This was not easy to deal with in arguments. He was essentially always right, in a logical, practical sense. One of his best friends had told me the story that they had all gone together to a psychic years before, and the psychic had told him that he had a white aura. As it was told to me and in a few online resources I found, a white aura symbolizes someone who is highly evolved, perhaps living their last human life – if you subscribe to that idea, and someone who doesn’t need to do a lot of seeking to know what is right. This is exactly how Dave was and boy was it frustrating for this mere mortal with all of her flaws.

A little while ago, I read (I mean listened to the audio book as I now tend to do because I spend a lot of time in the car) Busy Philipps‘ memoir,”This will Only Hurt a Little“. In it, Busy talks about her theory on Sparkly Humans, as is referenced here in this NY Times article about her book – “Philipps, 39, is a case study for her own “sparkly human” theory — something she invented a few years ago. It refers to someone who isn’t necessarily the most famous, but radiates self-confidence in a way that the world opens up to them.” This is a perfect description for Dave, although he might have resisted being called “Sparkly”. He exuded confidence, warmth, positive energy, charm, humour, in a way that was not fake or contrived, it was just real. People gravitated to him. They wanted to help him, or give him things. I don’t want to put the idea out there that sparkly Dave worked less. He had an amazing work ethic. Until he was diagnosed with brain cancer, I don’t think he took more than a couple of sick days in the whole 19 years that I knew him. He liked to say he had a horse-shoe up his butt, meaning he was lucky, but I think it had to do with this law of attraction, sparkly-human part of him. That trait is so hard to describe in people, but he had it, and he put it out into the world with every interaction. I think that is why I get so many people telling me how special he was. Now you know, he was sparkly. And we were lucky to have known him, weren’t we? If you have a sparkly story about him – please share it with me.

Year two

This year has been very different for my grief and my emotional journey. I have fallen in love again. I am working full time. I have two girls who are growing up so fast without their dad. Life is moving forward at such a clip I can barely catch my breath. The days just speed by, the weeks, the months. I am very caught up in all of the day-to-day functions of being a single parent and getting everything “done”. I often think about the early days of being at home alone with my grief and the ability to rest, think, pray, heal. The process still needs my attention, my time and my capacity, but not in the same quantity it did two years ago.

A little something for the girls for today.

And yet, every day, I still grieve deeply. I identify as a widow. I think about my loss, Dave’s loss, our children’s loss. I long for him to be here and for all of this to have been a mistake. At the same time, I am enjoying my life now. I have good things in my life and I like who I have become, it pains me to say. I am stronger than I ever knew. I am more compassionate than I ever knew. I am resourceful, thoughtful, protective, deeply appreciative, loving…all in a way that was deepened by losing Dave. Somehow I have grown enough to know that my days here on earth without him need to be lived fully. I do not take things for granted. I do not take people, opportunities, experiences or even the mundane for granted. I try to make good choices, I try to give and receive love freely. I try to be present as a parent, available as a friend, and I keep working on all parts of who I am emotionally and physically. I do all of this because I have walked beside my best friend in this world, as his strength left him and the thing, that made him, him, left him. I watched helplessly as his diseased brain waged war on his body and won, taking him to the other side, and leaving me here to figure it all out. He had no choice in the matter. He simply had to take it. So while I have a choice, I choose to live as fully as I can. I choose to eat delicious food, and go away on vacation. I choose to be nice to people in every way that I can. I choose to see people’s pain and offer my love and help if it is accepted. I choose to keep learning and laughing. None of this is easy for me. It is so very hard, especially without Dave by my side. His absence is a constant reminder that being human has a 100% mortality rate. None of us know when our time here is going to be up, so the time for the proverbial “bucket list” is now.

Our last road/family trip together to NYC. Dave always wanted the kids and I to see where he grew up and we got to do that on this trip. Thank you for taking us there Dave.

How I wish Dave still had the chance to enjoy the ordinary, like a good series on Netflix or a great cup of coffee. I miss being able to talk over our day, I even miss bickering with him about the butter that he always left uncovered, although one of our daughters has taken on that role. I miss his piles of crumpled papers from his pockets that he left on the dresser at night when he emptied his pockets. I miss his laugh, his voice. We all miss his cooking. I miss the way he took care of me and the way I took care of him. In re-reading my early writing after his death, I was reminded of a moment at a coffee shop that reduced me to tears. I saw a couple who were picking up their coffees and the husband was busy fixing the wife’s coffee for her while she waited for their food. The intimacy of that act, struck me so profoundly. He knew her. He loved her. He was showing her that in the simple task of fixing her coffee. It’s not about the big showy things, or the far off ideas of “when we have this much time or money we will…” it is all about the everyday moments between you and those you love.

It breaks my heart when I see friends or people I know ignoring their opportunities to express themselves fully, or not allowing the love in or wasting their time caught up in emotions that prevent them from appreciating their lives. For most people though, lessons are hard learned. You have to go through something to understand it, but if you can benefit from my lesson, please don’t let the little things go unappreciated. Please be present for the love that is available to you. Please take pleasure in someone bringing you a coffee made just the way you like it.

One of the memorial tattoos I got after Dave died, is a fern, with phlox flowers around it. In that early writing, I found some of the research I had done about these plants. To the Maori people, ferns represent peace, tranquility and spirituality along with new growth or new beginnings. Known as the Koru, ferns are also associated with nurturing and when it contains more than one frond, it represents the strength and healing of a loving relationship within family or community. In West African Adinkran culture, ferns are a symbol of endurance and resourcefulness and are worn by those who have endured adversity and outlasted difficulty. In contemporary culture, the fern symbolizes the magic of love, the unfolding of a new life and that everything is reborn and continues. It represents transformation, renewal and hope for the future. Phlox flowers symbolize good partnership, harmony, and represent sweet dreams. When I found these meanings I stopped searching for what was going to make up the tattoo I wanted to commemorate our love and our life together.

So here I am two years into the unfolding of my new life. Harmony is returning, a lot of renewal has taken place. I have learned to heal through the strength I draw from what Dave taught me in our relationship and how he loved me. Life continues to bloom for our daughters and bring them and me transformation. He is a part of everything we are. Sometimes that is still very painful but it is always good, it is always beautiful. I am enduring and so are they. We miss you Dave. Two years without you here is two too many.

Holidays and birthdays

For us, Dave’s birthday and Father’s Day almost always coincide or line up one shortly after the other. Being only two years into this widow thing, it’s not my favourite time of year. It’s not very fun to spend a fatherless Father’s day with your kids. I lost my dad too, many years ago, and this particular celebration lost its luster for me, way back then. I was happy to make it a joyful occasion again for my kids and Dave, but that ache never went away for me.

Last year, these occasions were harder for me than the anniversary. My Dave wasn’t so into his birthday but I always tried to make it special. For his 40th, I threw him a surprise party. I am fairly certain he was not surprised and although we all had fun – I am honestly not a great hostess! I never felt like it was what he truly deserved.

Not very surprised at his “Surprise 40th”

10 short years ago and also a long decade ago

His 50th was spent in a very different way. Grieving his absence. Almost two years after his death, here was this day that would have been a momentous occasion if he were here. In many ways it feels like the anticipation of these anniversaries are worse than the days themselves. After Dave died, his cousin asked if she could come visit me at his birthday every year and we could celebrate him together, along with his best friend. This to me was a perfect request. It provided me with the knowledge that she wanted to remain close to me and that she wanted to keep Dave’s memory alive. It also spoke to my heart with the knowledge that there are others who are grieving him deeply and would always remember and want to celebrate him. So our tradition of meeting up and spending that day together was born. We decided to do things he would have loved. Go the movies and eat good food! Dave worked for an incredible company, IMAX. He loved his work and he loved movies. So we go to the IMAX theatre, we sit in the best seats from his ‘audio-nerd’ perspective and we see something he would have loved. In fact it would have been something he would have worked on. Oh my Dave, you would have loved Toy Story 4. It was hilarious. It was so well written and the sound was incredible. Happy 50th birthday and Happy Father’s Day. I wish you were here.