The Second Year (May 17, 2024)

"It is the impermanent nature of human existence which throws us into the depths of our most authentic lives. As it turns out, there is no greater motivation for leaning into loving awareness than knowing everything ends." 

- Frances Bean Cobain, on the 30th anniversary of Kurt Cobain's death

"Grief is weird." 

- A friend

It's often said among widow(er)s that the second year is harder than the first. While that wasn't the case for me, there were times when the second year was brutal. The initial shock and numbness have gone, and the world goes on around you. My health scare last fall, which turned out to be fine, left me feeling vulnerable and shaken. Even as fleeting moments of happiness crept back in, the reality that life continues on without Scott remains surreal and jarring.

This spring has been beautiful. I tried to forget the specific dates of Scott's last days in the hospital and not relive them as the signs of spring emerged all around me, but the body remembers. Working in my garden brought some peace, and I planted roses, hydrangeas, and a rhododendron this year. The roses are blooming now, and I stop and smell them every chance I get.

In April I traveled to Dallas to see the eclipse. Scott and I saw the 2017 eclipse from our respective workplaces in Maryland, and we planned to make the trip in 2024 to see a total eclipse together, never imagining that 2024 would be like this. We thought we would have decades more together to go on adventures. It was a bittersweet decision to make the trip that we had planned for 2024, even if I couldn't see it with Scott. My sister's house was in the path of totality so I was able to see it with her family. The weather forecast for that day was cloudy, and there was a thick layer of clouds in the morning. Then the clouds parted 10 minutes before totality, and we got to experience it for the full 4 minutes.

Eclipse 2017

Eclipse 2024

I love the rare moments in life when I feel a childlike sense of wonder. Experiencing the darkness of night and looking up at the sun's corona gave me that feeling for the first time since the pandemic, and it wasn't until after it was over that I realized that I hadn't thought of Scott during totality. I thought of him before and after, and wished he could be there with me, but during totality I was caught in the moment with my sister and her family. Maybe that was a step forward in being present, but it caught me by surprise and I felt a bit guilty.

A few weeks after I got back home, our longtime friends Dorian and Marykate came over to visit. We shared stories about Scott, and Dorian told me a few stories that I had never heard before. Dorian also told me that after Scott passed, he decided to become more of a foodie especially when traveling abroad, because food was something that Scott had really enjoyed. I think Scott would have been happy to know that he still has an impact on people's lives.

My Aunt Nancy sent me a remembrance of Scott a few months ago that also referenced food. She remembered how Scott enjoyed the Boston cream pie that she got him the first time he flew up to Boston to meet my relatives, and how he made us breakfast every morning when we were in Hawaii. She wrote about her last visit with him, after he was diagnosed: "Scott made his own garlic honey and shared it with us. He also loved making his own hot pepper sauce and had various hot pepper plants on his deck, sharing one with us. I am very glad I was there with him then. I will forever miss him calling me “AhYi” and his loving hugs with a big smile."

A few weeks ago, I pulled out a binder of Scott's recipes. When we first got married, I assembled a binder of recipes that Scott dubbed Bessie's Book o' Cookin'. I cooked most of our meals for the first ten years of our marriage, with Scott acting as sous-chef. Then one day Scott asked if he could make me dinner. He said that I had cooked for all our marriage, and he thought he should do the same for me. I immediately said yes, expecting something on the order of hot dogs and spaghetti. I would have been perfectly happy with that, so I was surprised when I came home one evening and found that Scott had made a roast chicken, kale and quinoa pilaf, and quinoa salad with hazelnuts, apple, and dried cranberries. He looked sweaty and frazzled and later told me that he felt like Mrs. Doubtfire with her boobs on fire while cooking, but the food was delicious.

After that he cooked many more meals for me. One thing I loved was that he picked recipes that I would have passed over because I'd think there were too many ingredients, or too complicated to make. Scott didn't let that stop him, and he introduced me to many wonderful dishes that I would have never experienced otherwise. I compiled his list of recipes into a binder and named it Scott's Book o' Cookin'. The cover picture is a dog standing behind a table of ingredients and proudly holding a wooden spoon in its mouth, which Scott told me captured how he felt about his cooking accomplishments. 

In the two years since Scott passed, I was immersed in grief or working on the new house, and I mostly ate takeout or cooked very simple things for myself. I only recently started cooking more, and as I flipped through his recipes, I was amazed at how many of them there were. The memories of each dish came flooding back, and I was overwhelmed by all the ways that he had loved me and taken care of me. I made two of our favorites (smoky turmeric chicken with crispy chickpeas and steam-roasted carrots with cumin) and thought about all the memorable experiences he brought, and in some ways continues to bring, into my life.

My parents came to visit for a week and to be with me for the second anniversary. I showed them my house and the neighborhood, and we walked on the neighborhood trails in the evenings when the weather was nice. I made or ordered their favorite foods, and I took Mom to her favorite place here (Wegmans). We celebrated Mother's Day with my Mom as well as my Dad's birthday. I feel blessed that I got to spend this week with my parents and share so many happy memories with them.

Today I woke up on the second anniversary, not sure what the day would bring. You never know when the waves of grief will hit. I got up and we all got ready to visit Scott. Mom and I trimmed and pulled out weeds at his grave, and Mom insisted on bringing a toothbrush so that she could carefully clean his stone. Dad read a poem that he wrote about Scott and me. We laid flowers on his grave, including some roses from home. Mom picked out the best rose from her Mother's Day arrangement and laid it for Scott as well. We drank black cherry soda and rang the bell at the pavilion in his honor. Throughout the day I received messages of love and remembrance from family and friends. I was surprised that so many people remembered, and it touched my heart.

We drove back home and ended up going to my neighborhood block party. At first I wasn't sure if that would be a good idea, but I realized that it would be something nice to look forward to at the end of the day. My neighbors have been an integral part of building my new life and provided so much support, and it felt comforting to be with them on this day. I made guacamole (another of Scott's favorites) and brought it to share. I introduced my parents to the neighbors, and I think it gave my parents a sense of reassurance that I was living in a lovely neighborhood surrounded by kind people. 

There was a band playing, and somehow my neighbors got my parents up and dancing in the street with them. Seeing my Dad break out his dance moves to "My Sharona" made me smile and think how much Scott would have loved this, and how life continues to bring surprises and new experiences. Today was hard, and the year was hard, but I was grateful to feel moments of joy and beauty along with the grief.