Reminiscing

I reminisce a lot these days. It’s hard not to when memories of my late husband are all around me. Our life is plastered on every wall in our home, on my desk at work, in the photos on my phone. I knew him better than anyone on this earth. We finished each other’s sentences, laughed at our own inside jokes. I see him in our two rescue dogs when they want to roughhouse like he used to. I feel his absence whenever family gets together. I smell him in the garage where he worked on cars for thousands of hours. I hear him in all of the music I listen to.

We had such a great life. Even during the hard stuff, it was still wonderful because we were together. Sure, we let each other down sometimes, but we always forgave each other and held each other up no matter what.

Some memories are brighter in my mind than others. Our first date is one of my favorites. We wanted Chinese food, but not just any Chinese food. We wanted it in the little white takeout boxes. So, we grabbed the yellow pages and drove around Tulsa calling every Chinese restaurant in town until we found one that had those little boxes. We took the food back to my apartment, sat on the floor listening to music and talked all night long.

I remember the butterflies I would get when he was close to me. I’d sit on the couch with my legs tucked under and he would hold my feet while we watched tv. Or how, in a crowd he never let go of me, in a restaurant he always sat facing the door. Always the protector. And at the end of a long day, he would lean against the kitchen counter, extend his arms and motion with his hands for me to come to him, and the best hug would always follow. I’d never felt more loved.

Joe had a great sense of humor and was very nostalgic about things. We named pets after musicians (Sammy the dog after Sammy Hagar, Macy the cat after Macy Gray). We even named the food truck after Hagar’s bass player Mona because, well because she was a badass bass player and it was a badass food truck. You can find it now in Tulsa sporting the cheesesteak restaurant Phat Philly’s name. We coined the backyard bar “Villapiano’s” from That Thing You Do, and he even glued down quarters on the bar floor like Lucas did in Empire Records. All inside humor and homage to our favorite things.

Joe worked hard for everything he had in life, sacrificed a lot along the way. He never wanted elaborate things. He was happy with simple. I know he loved the life we had together because he told me all the time. I never had to wonder how he felt about me. He showed me every single day. We said things like “never let go”, “no worries”, and “whatever you do don’t open your eyes” because then you see and feel everything with your heart. I recognize how rare a love like that is.

I know a lot of people think I’m wallowing in my sadness when I talk about my Joe. I promise you I’m not. I’m trying to replace the terrible memories of last September with all the beautiful ones we created during our 23 years together.

There won’t be any more dancing in the dark or walking through the park, but there will be reminiscing.