It's now been seven years since my Nancy has left this world. I never expected it. With the possible exception of those taken by long term illnesses, I suppose nobody ever truly expects it.
Nancy and I were planning a vacation in New Orleans for the week before Mardi Gras. We had been there before for the celebrations, without the debauchery. We were planning to leave that Monday. That Sunday, we thought that Nancy just had a cold. It seemed severe enough that she didn't want to fly. And as she was a nurse, I trusted her judgment. But I sure didn't enjoy the Super Bowl that day.
That Monday, she went to the hospital. That Tuesday afternoon, I saw her crash, and I screamed for help. (It was a pulmonary embolism.) They shooed me away to the waiting room. When she died, hospital employees gathered around me, and gave me the telephone, through which the doctor told me that she had died. But as we never married, I guess that's all I could expect.
Nancy deserved better. Before we moved from the San Francisco area, she was a nurse at Tom Waddell clinic, helping the homeless with the efficiency of someone who had spent years in the ER. She walked the streets of San Francisco, offering simple medical help to the homeless. She also worked at the former Mission Rock shelter, which was replaced by a parking lot for Pac Bell Park. She took on the cause of so many who were simply down on their luck. Yes, she was a believer in - single payer - universal health care.
Nancy showed me the joys of the different cultures of the San Francisco area (we lived most of that time in Berkeley). She helped me overcome a number of fears, especially of those different from myself. She encouraged me as I left the corporate world and built a career based on (technical) writing. She even helped me understand the American south, as she grew up in South Carolina. If she were still with us today, I'm convinced that she would have blogged, perhaps in the mold of Maryscott O'Connor. (Nancy described her political beliefs as being somewhat to the right of Fidel Castro.)
Finally, seven years later, I think I am fully enjoying life again. I am, to paraphrase Brubeck, "married again for the first time", to another person who is also widowed. (We're about to celebrate our fourth anniversary.) I thank the people who have struggled for gay marriage for showing me the importance of that institution.
Today, once again, I honor my old life with my dearly departed Nancy. It was the best seven years of my previous life. It is integral to the person who I am today. But today I have a different life, happy in so many ways, thanks to my Donna. I think this year's Super Bowl is the first one I've really enjoyed since Nancy died. And even though I'm still freelancing, I'm fortunate that the work is still coming in fairly steady pace. I even get to walk our dog around the neighborhood twice a day.
But I shall always be a widower, forever changed by my life with Nancy.