The two of us circa 1981
Her mother set us up on our first date.
“My daughter just graduated. She’s really creative, very cute, and, well, you’re always joking about having nothing to do on the weekends — so, I thought…”
“Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” followed by chocolate pancakes at IHOP, was our first meeting.
Within months, we lived together – much to the chagrin of her parents. Before a year passed on the calendar, we were married; moving from Redding to Bakersfield. I worked as a nighttime DJ starting at 5:00 PM. Her job began at 7:00 AM. Arriving home at one AM, I’d wake her up so we could spend time together before going back to sleep. At six AM, she’d get me up so we could do the same, before I returned to bed. When you’re in your twenties, you can do it.
Two years later, she was pregnant and we relocated to the Northcoast. A couple years passed and our second son arrived.
People who have a baby because they think it will bring them closer together are horribly misguided. The added stress and cost of childrearing, plus the loss of half our income, chipped away at our fairy tale castle. Home ownership and long work hours accelerated the decay. Dragging myself home exhausted at day’s end was her long-awaited cue to relax, leaving me with household and child chores until I collapsed on the couch. There was no “us,” only “she” and “me.”
Drifting ever further apart, we became resentful and angry. Overeating was my method of handling it; she had her own vices. Our house became an armed camp. The marriage counselor eventually recommended divorce attorneys.
For awhile we co-parented; one week “on,” one week “off.” But while I dealt with my demons through therapy and weight reduction, she followed a different road, eventually severing contact with us and moving away.
Know that my intent is not to apply blame.
The cause of our breakup was not her fault nor was it mine; together we were a mis-matched blend; never meant to share a life. Apart, who knows what would have happened? That is also not to say that many good things didn’t come from our time together.
The last time I spoke with her was actually pleasant. I think she was too embarrassed to reach out to our sons so I’d said I’d be glad to build a bridge, but construction began too late. Years of smoking took their toll; she was diagnosed with terminal throat cancer. In an attempt to heal 15 years of distance, my son invited her to his wedding. She planned to attend but it was not to be, her health failing fast.
This week, at 58, surrounded by close family, she passed.
Neither my sons nor myself know how to handle the whirlwind of emotions swirling around her death. As one told me, “I look at her many ways more as a good friend I used to know than I do as ‘mom.’ After all, I haven’t seen her since high school.”
That doesn’t take away the sense of loss or sorrow we all feel.
Each of us is flawed – and each of us is as good as we need to be, the strange paradox of being human. Doing the best we can, we muddle forward, trying to figure out the rules, hoping to leave the planet a little better than how we found it. It’s horribly sad that her time on Earth couldn’t last longer.
Mostly, I remember good times; both of us wearing white carpenter jeans and black t-shirts on our weekends together; working as a team at the radio station, driving to Gold Beach for short getaways. I will also never forget how well she could sing.
When she sang, I’m convinced angels gathered to listen.
The difference between then and now is she’s closer to the audience.
Rest in Peace Joan. You are – and always will be – loved and missed.
A beautiful tribute. Life if full of journeys, choices and the people we encounter along the way. Each one makes us who we are. Bless you.
Thank you so much Gloria. I really appreciate the kind sentiment.
Oh Scott, how perfect a tribute to “someone [you] used to know”. I love your columns, and have been meaning to (I know, I know) subscribe to your page for years, seriously! So this time I mean it (thanks, Mr Q) and will follow you faithfully! Thank you, mahalo, for all of your words!
Thank you Sally – not only for subscribing – but the hearttelt comments.
Whenever a friend passes, it makes us sad. To your family, you are in my prayers.
That was good. Thanks for sharing.
You are welcome Laurie. Thank you for taking time to read it.
Lovely tribute Scott. I wonder if I would do the same? Blessings from Palm Springs
Thank you Gerry. What I’ve learned is to operate in a manner of “compassion first.” I don’t believe that holding grudges or placing blame solves much – if anything. And, in the end, the only person you’re really harming is yourself. They don’t know you’re angry (or they don’t care) and it lowers the quality of your own life.
Once I could come to those realizations and “let go of it,” I was able to wish her well and hope for her the best.
I’m sure you’d do the same.
Scott this is a beautiful tribute. to her ..It was wonderful her son made the attemp to have his mom their for the wedding….I’m sure it gave her peace…God Bless you and your family.
Thank you Waneta. I agree with you. Reaching out to his mom couldn’t have done anything but help her.
Sweet, compassionate tribute from a perspective that only comes with time and maturity. Sending thoughts of comfort to you and your family at this time of loss.
thank you Vicky. And I think you’re right – something about getting older (or at least becoming more mature) allows us to put things in perspective better.
Looking at this picture after all of these years… I realize that I now know who she reminded me of: Goldie Hawn. We all met at Alice Birney School. Our youngest is now 32 and so I think that lines up with your kids. I am so touched by your tribute as a divorced Mom. I will always have deep affection for my X-husband. I am so sorry! Thank you for this message. I think those of us who loved the parent of our kids and then moved on..can all relate to this lovely story. May she rest in peace. Prayers for your boys.
Thanks Liana for the kind words. We go back a long way, don’t we? You are very right; I too used to think she looked like Goldie Hawn.
Scott — I’m so sorry. I remember when you introduced her to the staff at KATA. She was your Jewish American Princess. That was in 1983 or some time around there. Losses like this gives us all a reason to stop and revue the truths in our lives. Finally, what a wonderful tribute to you sons’ mom. Prayers to you! — Tom
She did work with us at KATA (however she wasn’t Jewish) starting in 1983. Thank you for the nice words.