Saturday, April 10th, 2021

I didn’t want to get out of bed. I kept waking up, but I kept closing my eyes. “Not yet. Not yet.” I muttered time and again. I’d pull the box of your ashes close and drift off for another hour. I fell asleep with you in my arms. 

The weather was crap today, but I swear I heard you say my name. The wind was ripping through the streets, but I know it was you. “Princess,” your voice called. The tone touched my heart and eased the grip of grief surrounding it. It felt like breathing after being underwater too long, rushed into me, filling me with life. Having you near is comforting, and I didn’t want to move. So, I put off getting out of bed until I couldn’t any longer, it was three o’clock, and I’ve been drinking a lot of water.

In a month, we would have celebrated twenty-one years together. Twenty-one years since you first told me you loved me. Twenty-one years since I said, “I feel the same way!” One week after we started dating, I told my friend that I thought I loved you. I knew it months prior, but I couldn’t wait any longer to share it with someone. “Don’t tell him yet; you’ll scare him away,” she said. And that night, you told me first. Granted, we had been friends for at least nine months, but still, when we knew, we wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

I’ve been lucky. Not everyone is gifted true love, much less two decades of it, but I keep forgetting that our fur baby, Zeeke, has been in love with you for seventeen. Seventeen years and two days of adoration before death ripped you out of his life. How do I explain to our four-legged kids that you aren’t coming back?

They’ve been clingy. If I sit down, Zeeke is in my lap, and you know how uncomfortable that is for him. He is twice the length of my legs, but he makes it work so that he can be close. So he can feel me there. If I leave the room, he follows me. Pugsley is always on my heels; her cries for attention break my heart. Wee Thomas has been causing trouble, knocking things off of shelves and then crawling onto my chest to settle as close to my heart as possible. When I leave the house, they wait by the door for me to return. It shook their world when you didn’t come home.

My heart breaks for animals to be surrendered to the shelter after their owners pass away. Do they feel abandoned even though their humans would never choose to leave them? I try to explain that it wasn’t your choice. But they don’t understand. I don’t understand.

I attempted to work today. Time is moving on, and bills will start to arrive. I paid the utilities. I completely forgot about them. Do I turn off the service on your cellphone? You didn’t have a personalized voicemail message, so it’s not like I could hear your voice if I called your number, but I remember when you first got us our cell phones—your number ending in 2388, and mine in 5365. I looked at you and asked if you did it on purpose, giving me the phone that ended in JENK, but it was once again a wink from God, destined to be together.

I moved my laptop and notebooks from my home office to the living room. I needed a change of scenery; the smallish room started to feel claustrophobic. I set up on the couch and began working on a few outstanding projects. It’s been insanely difficult to focus, understandably, and I don’t see how anyone with a ‘normal’ job would be required to return to work already. I looked it up. In the United States, bereavement leave is a standard of one to five days. Five days. I’m going on two weeks, and I can barely handle essential functions. I have moments where I sound like I’m doing great, but right before and right after that phone call is yet to be determined. So yeah, how does someone lose the love of their life and go straight back to work as if their world had not exploded?

I’m blessed. Hollywood Pop isn’t just a job to me, Brett and “Christmas” are like members of my own family, and they’ve banned together to cover what I can’t process and give me only the work I think I can manage. So tonight, I moved to the living room to work on some mitzvah invitations, and that’s when it happened. I smelled you. I was sitting on the couch, working from my laptop, and I decided to turn the television on for a little while. I hadn’t been there for 15 minutes when I felt a shift in the atmosphere, and I smelled you like you were right there next to me.

“Husband?” I called. Perhaps it was only a shift in my body; the deodorant I stole from your bag hadn’t been applied since hours before, but maybe that was it? So I sniffed my armpit. The scent had faded long ago, and this sudden unexplainable fragrant visit smelled as if you had freshly applied it. So I said hello. I told you I love you. I said how much I miss you, and I asked if you were ok being upstairs next to the bed or if I should go and get you?

I hear noises in the house. It’s all probably explained away by the wind or settling of the structure, but it happens more around the same time every night – when I’m writing to you. Perhaps you’re telling me to turn off the light and get some sleep. That I no longer need to be on night shift since I’m no longer waiting up to spend time with you after work. That I need to close my eyes and dream of better days, of days when we were together. I’ve tried, but I don’t know that I’m ready for anymore change just yet. My world already looks so different. But I will turn the light off for now. The sun will be up soon anyhow.  #ILoveYouBrianKawa

“I think we dream, so we don’t have to be apart for so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.”
A.A.Milne

Tuesday, April 13th, 2021

You stole my hat. I stole it back. I bought you a different one. You kept taking mine. Over and over, it became a running joke where I can't find my hat, and you walk into the room wearing it.

I have two baseball caps that I wear. You have twelve. I have the same one in two colors, blue and black from the Fishtown Cheese Shanty. They're my favorite. You kept taking the black one. I've looked for it since I've been home. I can't find it. Did you take it with you? Did you hide it from me so I wouldn't hide it from you?

I planned to get another one for your birthday when we went back to Michigan this summer. I intended to mark it with pink nail polish, an homage to your Grandfather painting Andrea's Walkman when he got you three kids the same ones for Christmas. You laughed so hard you cried the first time you told me that story. So, I knew you would laugh at the polish in the hat. I planned it specifically to hear your laugh. 

Your laugh... Yesterday I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. Today I was exhausted beyond all measure. We had so many plans. Forty more years of plans, minimum. What I wouldn't give for just one more year, one more day, an hour even... I should have given you my hat... I would give you anything... What was the big deal when I so easily gave you my heart?

"I swear I couldn't love you more than I do right now, and yet I know I will tomorrow." - Leo Christopher

Thursday, April 15th, 2021

Every summer, when we lived in Manhattan, you would return to Northport and work. The length of your stay varied, as sometimes you tended bar at The Happy Hour, sometimes you helped with the cherry harvest, and sometimes you did both, often on the same day. You never hid from hard work, and a lot of time, you became the example for others to follow. So, I never worried that you would leave me each summer to go home and goof off. You had way too much fun at your "jobs" to need another outlet. We were similar in that sense. We work hard, and we play hard and standardly in the same setting because our co-workers become friends and family members.

I was ok with you spending part of the summer in Michigan while I stayed to work in New York because you were with your family. Family is important to me as well, and I adore the way you cared about yours. Your family is incredible. I truly lucked out in the in-law department.

What I'm saying is that I keep expecting you to walk through the door. It feels like those New York summers when you'd be gone for a few weeks and getting to speak more than once a day was difficult due to the horrible cell service of the U.P. Even then, I was desperate to connect with you by the time our nightly phone calls would come around.  Occasionally you would send a photo or a video to keep me entertained, and I cherish those transmissions more than you could ever imagine. When you'd send the tutorial videos about how the cherry harvest worked, I felt like I was watching an episode of (a sexy) Mr. Rogers. I used to love watching Fred's video trips, like to the bottling company or the newspaper printer. During this video, I felt like you were taking me on a field trip to Rick's farm.

I'm still doing deep dives through footage, desperately searching for your voice. I'm craving eye contact, a message just for me. And today, I found all of that, and an "I love you." Even though you were speaking through a mouth of "nasty habit," my breath caught in my chest, my heart leaped into my throat. You said, "I love you," and I found it. And I can play it on repeat. I can listen to it for hours if I want. And I do want. Because I want you, I want you back so bad I can't stand it.

When I found that clip, I ugly cried. Zeeke had gotten up from the couch to get some food, and he immediately came back to check on me. I feel like you picked him up in the kitchen and turned him around; it was so seamless and quick for him to get back to me. He crawled up into my lap, let me hold him tighter than any cat should allow, and I rocked back and forth while crying your name. And he stayed with me until I felt cried out.

I'm devastated. And I was so happy to find that video. The conflicting emotions came together suddenly, like a storm, and burst out of me before I knew what was happening. What's happening? I have no idea why any of this is happening.  #ILoveYouBrianKawa

Saturday, April 17th, 2021

Christine asked me, "What did you do today?" I told her about how your buddy came over to mow the lawn, that your work family has been so amazing, and how dedicated they've been to take care of me. And when I went out to once again say hello and tell him, "Thank you," I got choked up and had to retreat inside.
"Yeah," she said, "you told me that. What happened since we talked?"
"Wait, we talked?" I asked.
"Yes," She said.
"Today?" I asked.
"Yes," She said.
So that's how things are going. I had some wonderful phone conversations and some beautiful moments, but I couldn't tell you until forced to examine the details if that happened today or last week.

Apparently, at one point today, I was sitting in the backyard talking on the phone to Des, and the most beautiful crow flew over, pretty low above my head. It was gorgeous, and I told her how I've always wanted a pet crow, a pet raven to be exact, but a crow would be great, too. And I told her how you tried so hard to get one for me, realizing they were illegal in the United States. But ordering one from South Africa was a possibility until you learned they were $5,000 for an egg. We could watch the ones in our backyard. They were just as pretty.

We remembered the giant ravens of Joshua Tree, how we saw that one, perched like a majestic angel, on a sign at the side of the road. I know I have photos somewhere, but I don't remember where I saved them. Somewhere online for sure, but I think I uploaded them to MySpace. MySpace! That's a blast from the past.

Baby, we remembered so many things from that Palm Springs trip, and we laughed at that time you jumped out of the car and ran over to that mountain of rocks, scaling to the top faster than I could yell, "Look out for snakes!" You stood like a king on that mini-mountaintop, your arms raised to the sky so free and worthy of greatness. The realization that danger might lurk within the next crevice didn't register until you were on the way down, and even then, when it did, you would have done it again. I wished I could seize the moment like you did.

When I was on the phone with your sister earlier, I relocated a spider to the backyard—gently capturing it within a paper towel and depositing the creature to the far side of the fence. I laughed and told her two things would bring the mighty Thor to his knees, both beginning with the letter "s." I would occasionally hear you scream like Shia LeBeouf in "Transformers" and I knew it was either spiders or snakes. I was the type that would deal with the phobia-inducing situation because "someone had to," and you always said that someone "Did not have to be you." You embraced your talents, but you 100% owned your limitations and didn't let them make you feel less than. I wish I could be that confident. 

I was talking with Alia when I saw the bunny. I spent a lot of time outdoors today, sitting on the back porch while on the phone. At one point, I looked up and saw a familiar fluff hanging out by the old tree stump across the yard. Thankfully I had taken the Godzilla spider to the other side, or I would have worried for the sweet bunny's life. I agree, that spider was unnaturally large, but I still couldn't take its life. I wouldn't want something to snuff me out of existence for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

With the bunny, however, it was all right moments. My camera was on the table, so I quietly retrieved it and snapped some pictures. I could hear your voice mimicking Scooby-Doo from "Monsters Unleashed" when he says the word "Bunny" and holds a sketch of a little rabbit he had just made. The context of the scene forever unimportant after hearing Scooby say, in adorable Scooby tones, "Bunny." I heard you repeat it just like that. I squealed internally when that little sweetie decided it was ready to move on and stretched its little body like it was the best stretch ever. Its back arched up into "Halloween Kitty" pose, and I could hear you laugh at the adorable quirkiness of it. I heard you say, "We should have kept that baby bunny we rescued," but the mother was still around, and I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't imagine losing a child, and I never wanted to.

It's strange that we brought up Joshua Tree. When I finally scrolled through Instagram today, I saw that Mario posted photos of those iconic trees. He was there. And even more random, my aunt is currently caring for orphaned baby rabbits. I know I've been more open to signs since you left, but the universe feels more connected right now than it's ever been in my past. And it's not just me; others are feeling the "nudges" and putting the pieces together, too.

I know you're still with me. I can "see" you. I can feel you. And though it will never be "enough," I pray it will continue to be a comfort for all who love you. And Husband, it turns out, that was the entire world. #ILoveYouBrianKawa

Tuesday, April 20th, 2021

It's been a month since my life turned upside down. It's been a month since I found you, since the paramedics arrived, since my heart burst from my chest and shattered into a million pieces. How has time continued? How does the sun continue to shine, the birds sing their songs, the ballgames taking place with winners and losers, and popcorn and soda flowing at the school across the street? How has "normal" continued for the rest of the world when I feel caught in a never-ending loop of agony?

If I think of the time that has passed in another perspective, it helps ease the grip that threatens to squeeze my insides until I pop. One word has been my focus. Miracles. It's been a month now since the miracles began.

You died that day. March 20th, 2021, to me, will always be the day that you passed away. I find it difficult, still, to go into the basement on my own. When I round the wall by the steps to the washing machine, I see you lying there. Every time. If you hadn't gone to the basement to check on my laundry, would I have heard you collapse? As much as I question it, as much as I replay those moments in my mind, I know now, after speaking to the medical professionals, that it wouldn't have made a difference. You were gone in an instant. It was sudden, and it was quick. If I had found you earlier - brought you back to the land of the living sooner - the "you" that I fell in love with, the personality, the vitality, the unquenchable joy for life, would never have returned, and I would have faced the most difficult choice of my nightmares. Because I knew your wishes, and even though I would never choose to let you go, I would have honored them. And that most definitely would have killed me. Miracle number one, I wasn't in the room with you when it happened.

Miracle number two, we live in a small town with an exceptional first responder and emergency room team. You were the CPR-certified person in our household. I remember how you volunteered to stay with my dad when he had his heart surgery if Mom needed to leave the house, just in case something happened, so she would feel secure and know he was in good hands. She never took you up on it, but the fact that you offered meant more to me than you will ever know. You loved my parents so much, and I know you weren't verbal with your feelings to others, but I pray they realize that, and it somehow brings them comfort in their grief. They live ten minutes away, and somehow my mom made it to our house in seven that night. 

I learned CPR in high school while studying for my CNA test. I haven't done it since I was sixteen years old, and the gentleman on the phone with me when I called 911 walked me through it and kept me going. I don't know who he is, but God bless him for his service because he was the first angel I encountered that day. The paramedics arrived in six minutes. Nineteen minutes after I first called 911, they had transferred you to the medical team at the hospital. It was seamless. Everyone I spoke to said it was the most orchestrated transition they've ever seen. The doctor in Louisville, who read through the charts, said it was the most beautiful ER code she's ever read. So, to the 911 operator, the EMS, the chaplains, and the emergency team at Taylor Regional, you were miracle number three. My Love, they brought you back to me, and they fought like warriors to hold on to you. They did everything right, and it was because of them that so many people were able to receive the gifts of life and improved quality of life through your donations.

The miracles poured in after that, and one day I will continue the story, but they all began at 11:00 pm on Saturday, March 20th, 2021. One month ago, today.

Today has been emotionally intense. It's also been a beautiful blessing with people checking in at the right time. Particularly your sister. I know you had something to do with that. You knew I was going to break tonight, and at 10:45 pm, when I was standing in the basement where you last stood, where you took your last natural breath, sobbing and pleading for you to come back to me, she texted. And she kept texting. And I tried to reply, but I was holding your ashes in the freaking basement, and I couldn't see my keyboard to type, and I was in-the-basement, I hate the basement, but I needed to feel close to you, so I was losing it, and I couldn't type, so I called her. And though it took a while to regulate my breath, I felt the air around me relax. Like you could breathe because I could finally breathe. And I know it was you making her reach out at the right time. The "God Winks" have been many in our journey. And while I was talking to her, Brett texted – she remembered the 11 pm marker and wanted to make sure I was ok. Your heavenly plea was heard, received, and actions taken. Within minutes of hearing your sister's voice, I was crying and laughing and crying and laughing. The oppressive cloud of grief began clearing, and I walked upstairs to the living room. I was in good hands. I still cradled you in my arms, and you "sit" beside me while I type, but I'm ok right now because you poked your sister in the "instincts" and made her text me. So, thank you for that. #WeLoveYouBrianKawa

Thursday, April 22nd, 2021
“I woke up in the middle of the night, and you were there. And I smiled. I got to sleep next to you after all. At least I think I did. I wanted to reach out and touch you, but I was afraid you would wake up, and I know you had a limited amount of time for sleeping, so I just stared at you instead.

I guess I could have been dreaming. You might not have actually been there. It might have just been a dream. But if it was, it was a sweet one. And then it was over.

I woke up, and you were gone. And I was sad, but something else had my attention. First, my arms were gone—both of them, no longer attached to my body. And suddenly, with a woosh of pain, they were back. And I almost wish they weren't.

When I was little, and my arms or legs fell asleep, it used to tickle. And I would laugh. And my mom would say, wait until you are older, it won't be funny anymore. And her words come back to haunt me. My arms, the ones that had disappeared, are now screaming themselves awake. 

But there was something else. An Igor lump, a hunchback lump on my chest above my right shoulder, was staring up at me with two adorable glittering eyes. "Wake up," they seemed to shout. "Get out of bed, you lazy bum," they screamed to me. Well, screamed sounds harsh to what it actually was.

I miss you. It's beautiful out, and I just wanted to spend the day with you. But I hope you have had a decent day catering to our Commander-in-chief at the UN. Write me back when you can.

I love you, Darlin.
xoxo,
Princess
Sun, Mar 22, 2015”

I found this letter while looking through our old emails. It was from a few months before we left New York - six years and one month ago... I could very easily write most of these same words today. Time is truly relative. #ILoveYouBrianKawa