StephMemorial: Out of gumption

Have I mentioned that I'm totally terrified of life without Stephanie? Well, I am, and now I've said it out loud. She handled most of the "adulting," and while we made big decisions together, she definitely did the heavy thinking — whatever we were doing, Steph spent serious time planning it, and then I spent ten or fifteen minutes looking over her plans. In short, she was the grown-up, much more than me.

Life without her is a lot less enjoyable than life with her, and sometimes I slip into a funk for a few days. That's where I've been for the past week or so, just lingering in a cloud of sadness. Things are also extra hectic right now, as I'm getting ready for a trip to Seattle, where I grew up, to see family and old friends. It's a trip we couldn't possibly have made while Stephanie was alive; the realities of dialysis make long-distance traveling close to impossible unless you're rich.

Since I never thought she'd die before me, I also never thought I'd be going back to Seattle, but — here I go. And without Steph to plan the details, I've had to do all the thinking and buying and reservations myself, so it's a foregone conclusion that I've screwed up somewhere along the way. Sigh.

I'm out of gumption, which is why you've seen fewer entries here. And there will be no entries while I'm gone, as I'm not bringing the laptop or the internet with me to Seattle. I'll be back in the second week of July, though, so don't give up on me or the website. There's much, much more to come. Every day with Stephanie was a good day, a happy memory I want to relive at length, and I have barely begun to tell Stephanie's stories.

Welcome to StephMemorial

Stephanie Webb was my wife, my closest friend, my angel. We were together from 1997 until 2018, and for all that time we were head-over-heels in love. She was the best thing that ever happened to me, or ever will.

Who was Stephanie? She was complicated, and sometimes difficult. She was brilliant but insecure, eloquent but introverted, strong-willed but soft-spoken, tough as titanium but always vulnerable, a dreamer but utterly down-to-earth. Sometimes she was deeper than the Marianas Trench, and other times so silly you'd be giggling for hours.

She wasn't famous, and she was never arrested or made headlines. She worked ordinary office jobs, but after hours and on the weekend she was adventurous — oh, the places we've been (though always on a budget). She developed major medical problems toward the end, but other than a few dark days she generally kept an optimistic outlook. She was 26 when we met, and 48 when she died.

This domain was created to post her obituary on-line, so old friends who'd been out of touch could Google her name and know that she'd passed away. After writing the obituary, though, there was more to be said. And then, more still.

I don't want to forget any of the moments we spent together, the things we did, or the promises we made, kept, and broke — but I'm old and sometimes forgetful, and it's not likely that my memory will improve with age. So I'm writing it. Almost all of it. I reckon that's going to take the rest of my life.

I can't tell you everything about Stephanie, of course. As well as I knew her, there must be many stories she never told me, and many stories she told me that I've forgotten. There are also, of course, some stories that I'm not going to share.

She didn't often speak about her childhood, her adolescence, her first years of adulthood, and her answers when I asked were usually brief. She got the recipe for Stephanie exactly right, that's for sure — but I wasn't there while she was creating herself, day by day and bit by bit, so my focus will be on the time we had together.

It was delightful and never dull spending those years with her, and it's my hope to convey some small smidgen of the joy of Stephanie. Of course, her spirit can't be captured and posted on-line, and there's no doubt that I'm going to fail. But I am going to try.

I am under no illusion that this site will be popular. That's not the point. When I write about Stephanie it's like spending more time with her, or re-spending old times with her, and that's the best thing left in my life.

My name is Doug, and I'm (still and always) Stephanie's husband. If you knew her, or have something to say about the website, or if you've spotted a typo, you can reach me via the form below.