StephMemorial: A rotten aniversary

Stephanie left this world a year ago tomorrow, and it was hell. My life had been utterly wrapped into hers; she was the key factor in every decision big and small, she was seriously the source of all joy, and she was what made life livable. Every day when I left for work, every errand I ran to the grocery store, every time I stepped down the hall to check the mailbox, I immediately started looking forward to seeing her again. I was nuts about Stephanie. And to be honest, I still am.

When she died, we had one weird "advantage" — my wife had more than one fatal diagnosis, and thus her death was foreseeable enough that we had talked about it. Not often or at great length, because it was an extremely difficult topic, but we'd talked about it enough that I knew what she'd want — cremation, not burial, and a very low-key service, not a formal funeral. And I also knew, because she'd told me, that she wanted me to go on without her. Anything else would be a betrayal, and there's no way I would ever betray her.

So we had Stephanie's remains cremated, and her parents and I had a very low-key memorial lunch, as she wanted. And as she wanted, I have gone on. I am here on Earth to remember Stephanie Webb, and that's what I do, every day.

My perspective, 364 days after the worst day of my life, is: It gets better. Her death was the worst thing ever, so "better" was the only possibility. She wanted me to go on, and I've gone on, so a year later I guess that proves that going on is possible. It's feasible. It's not merely "survivable," but I'm sincerely glad to still be here, even all alone. Life without Stephanie will never be anything but a hollow echo of life with her, but going on is better than not.

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.