Blessing #9

If I am going to complete my goal and compile all these memories/blessings in a book honoring Deb and documenting the amazing 33 years we had together, it only seems appropriate to include some memories that are truthful and perhaps not so lighthearted. 

Similarly, I know from experience and from listening and talking with other widows/widowers, that there is a tendency to beatify the recently deceased. 

Although, I had always made it a point to regard my wife as a saint while she was still with us. More specifically, with me. Any woman who could endure my peculiarities, and indeed embrace them, deserved and deserves saintly status. 

To this day, I, and many of her close friends, still wonder why she didn't leave me years ago. 

If I had a chance to escape me -- and my thickheadedness, my moodiness, my insufferable nature -- even for just a few hours, I'd pay damn good money for that type of respite. Pile on my ceaseless grieving these days and I'd give up a toe or a finger to get away from me and breathe some fresh air in the "normal world."

They say the number one cause of marital discord, particularly among newlyweds or near newlyweds, is of a financial nature. And though we didn't fight much, certainly not like my parents who had volatile spats that often resulted in broken kitchenware or even furniture, we did butt heads when it came to our meager resources. You see, unlike other MOT (Members of the Tribe) neither Deb nor I came from "any money". None.

What we had, we earned. And what we earned, we earned by working hard. So money mattered.

In one particular incident, I mistakenly opened a Wells Fargo envelope addressed to her and was shocked to see that she had a credit card balance (her own card) that was in 4 digit territory. Moreover,  Deb had only been paying the minimum, meaning the debt was growing. And had been for a few months.

It wasn't the number that got me so upset as much as it was the silence and the measures to keep it hidden.   As was often the case, my hotheadedness got the best of me and I  immediately went to DefCon5. So much so that I packed an overnight bag and stormed out of the house. 

I didn't know where I was going or even why I was going, since I could have set up camp in my man cave and ridden out the storm while watching reruns of Seinfeld. Instead I retreated to the Red Lion Hotel in the part of Culver City that is near LAX and is patronized by many pilots and flight attendants on layovers.

There, I sulked, I mumbled, and I ate a room service Club Sandwich which was light on turkey and bacon but chock full of limp lettuce and out of season tomatoes. 

My attempts to sleep were no more successful. 

The bed was lumpy and had a crater in the middle. My cellphone was ringing off the hook from my naturally-worried wife. And it didn't help that the crew from the Swedish Airlines, Flukkken Der Schmingleputt, decided to throw themselves a 3 day layover party in the hallway of Red Lion's 5th floor.

In all, it was terrible night and terrible episode. 

Only worth remembering because when I returned home in the morning, the girls were happy to see me. And Deb broke out crying and apologized profusely. Although it should be noted she got to sleep on our super comfy Ortho California Deluxe and watch HBO, which was not included in the $59.99 room at the now defunct Red Lion.

Naturally we laughed about the incident for years to come. And I regret my over-reaction. About this and other flare ups that I may or not divulge.

After Deb retired from advertising sales, she considered going back to school to get her credential as a Marriage Family Child Therapist. Which she would have excelled at. One thing she'd always say to me when it came to arguments, "Would you rather be right or you rather be happy?"

I went through 64 years of my life preferring to be right. And now, only after her passing, do I find myself listening more intently to her advice -- I'd rather be happy.

But now in her omnipresent absence, I don't see how that is possible.