StephMemorial: Bagels

Steph liked bagels, but bagels aren't much of a thing in the midwest, so she’d settled on Einstein Bros. “Not great,” she said, “but pretty good.” Today's entry is a memory, not an endorsement, and Steph even said, "You want a real bagel, they're in New York City and they're not Einstein's."

We may have eaten at Einstein Bros once or twice, but there's no real ‘atmosphere’ there, so usually we’d get bagels to go. It was something that made my lady happy, so we did it as often as we could afford. If I had the car and she was at work, maybe I’d bring her a bagel at lunch. More often, if she’d had a rough day at her office, a bagel for dinner made a bad day go away.

When Steph started having medical issues, there were more bad days to chase away, you know? So the bagels kept coming. Einstein had a location on the west side of town, a few blocks from the clinic where Steph got shots into her eye every month, and after that ordeal, it was always bagels for dinner.

That same shop was also near Madison’s main hospital, and when Steph was a patient, and the hospital food was so inedible, several times I bought the bagel and spread she wanted, and brought it to her bedside. A bagel was also her guaranteed going-away meal, on the day she was discharged. The only times she didn't get a bagel for checking out of the hospital was when she'd been at some other hospital, or, sigh ... the time she didn't check out. I owe you a bagel, sweetie.

Of course, I knew exactly what she wanted. Her first choice would be the asiago cheese bagel. Her second choice, if all the asiagos were gone, was an onion bagel. Third choice: sesame. And if all those bagels were gone, she’d still be pretty happy with just a plain bagel.

Important: Remind them to slice the bagel, but never get it toasted at the shop, because Steph preferred to smear on the shmear and then put it in the toaster oven. Or she’d sometimes eat it cold, and still she’d be bagel-happy.

She'd like the garden vegetable cream cheese please, or onion/chive cream cheese. When she was walking and we went in together, she always oohed and aahed over their display of side treats — cookies, muffins, pastries, etc — but she never ordered any. When she was no longer walking and instead I went into the shop without her, the bagel was always accompanied by a cookie, a muffin, or a pastry.

There was also an Einstein location on our side of town, near the grocery store where I did our shopping, and I’d usually bring home a bagel for my baby. It always made her smile, and I loved (and miss so much) seeing her smile. Without her, just driving past the bagel store always made me smile.

No smile today, though — the bagel shop on our side of town is permanently closed, and the big Einstein sign is gone. It’s silly, but seeing the building without the bagel sign made my eyes well up. I haven’t been there since Steph died, and I hate bagels so I was never going there again, but I wanted the bagel shop to be there, serving fresh hot memories, sliced.

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.