The Second Weekend Alone

So this is my second weekend alone, and without Bride.  I was blessed to have folks here,  and even more who volunteered to come if I gave the word.   As I have mentioned, I felt like I needed to face some of this by myself.  Giving myself time to sit with things is hard.   The time we would be hanging out, watching stupid TV or sitting on the back porch, or playing games, that’s when it hits the hardest.  With no distractions, I am forced to face my new reality.  I can tell you this, I am not a fan!!

The evenings are hard and the weekends seem brutally empty.  Last Sunday I attended my first “loss of a spouse grief group session”.   I have worked with therapists before, but this was my first experience in a group setting.  Again, not a fan.  I understand the mechanics of how it’s supposed to work, you sit in a room with people who understand the pain, the loss, and try to figure out how to keep going without pretending.  Sounds simple, but like most things involving the heart, it just ain’t.   

I came away from that session more shaken than when I went in.  Listening to one heart breaking story after another was a lot and it felt heavy.  I don’t know if it was just too soon for me, or if that kind of group is just not for me.  When I got home, I googled the purpose of grief groups.  What I found was, breaking isolation, normalizing what feels abnormal, giving language to things we can not name yet, sharing coping mechanisms, creating safe space to feel the loss fully, and rebuilding a sense of meaning and identity. 

The one that hits me the most right now is breaking isolation.  I feel that one in my bones.  I feel all of them, but I don’t think a group is going to help me with the rest, at least not now.  I am blessed, truly blessed, family, chosen and actual, who have been carrying me in all the ways that matter.  These posts, writing this out, this has become my safe space.  This is how I am giving names to the things that don’t have names yet.

I do need to rebuild my sense of meaning, that part if real.  But do not need to rebuild my identity, Bride helped shape who I am, trying to rebuild that feels like it would be a dishonor.  So instead, I’m going to do my best to stay true to the man she helped build. 

A few of things I miss, holding her hand wherever we were walking.  Reaching over in the middle of the night just to touch her.  Surprising her with a few Cherry Mash, that candy thing she loved.  I miss giving her crap about how much true crime she watched, we called them kill shows.  That was not my thing, even though I would watch with her sometimes.  I preferred stuff that showed the inherent good in people, not the worst.  We had shows we watched together, then we each had our own. 

I miss all of that, last night I watched one of hers called Cold Justice.  That show always made me cry.  Last night I cried because I miss my honey.

I miss kissing her on the face, “flush on the lips” she’d say, no idea which one but that came from some show or movie.  I miss how she’d get when she won at cards, cocky when she was winning, annoyed when she wasn’t, never for long, but long enough to make me laugh. I miss calling her, just to check in.  I miss thumb wrasling her to settle disputes, anywhere, at diner, at a table, didn’t matter.  Whoever won would say “LOSER,” and throw up a hand shaped like an “L” to our forehead.  She cheated all the time and I didn’t care.  I miss all of it. 

It was not just a life we built, it was a thousand little things, and every one of them is louder now she’s gone.

Another Weird Thing - A New Mattress

So just a bit over a month without Bride and everything still seems weird.  Weird to think about, weird to talk about, weird to type about, weird to adjust to my new norm and weird to go through the days without her by my side.

My new mattress was finally delivered this week.  It was hard watching them carrying away the last mattress we would ever pick together.  And then, in came my new mattress, smaller and softer than she ever would have liked.  I also realized, this is the very first new mattress I have ever bought by myself in my lifetime.  My parents bought them when I was a kid, the Navy bought those and we met while I was there so there was no mattress buying for me.

We had just ordered a new set of sheets for our bed to more closely match the room color.  I ended up sending those back and getting the same color in queen size.  I did not get a new comforter yet, she liked the more poofy fancy ones and I like the simply cotton quilt type.  We always thought comforters were too small, ours was a California king.  I wanted to see what a king sized one would look like on there before buying one.  Our old ones were transitioned to paint tarps and stored in the garage.  I pulled one out, washed it and tried it on, now I know that is the size I will get and the color will be like the one she picked.

I tipped the men who delivered the new mattress and took away the old one to carry that bedframe out to the garage.  As I was sitting in my garage ponder chair staring at that thing I remembered how much she loved that bed frame.  It was a massive four-poster bed that was our first full bedroom set purchased at the same time, it even had the rails connecting them so one could hang frilly stuff on.  It was also the tallest bed we every had, I made her a custom little step to help her crawl in.  Before that, we always had an eclectic mix of things.  Mostly random pieces we liked or that I built from a picture or drawing of what she saw in her head. 

It was funny when we moved to Smithlandia the ceilings were a bit low and had giant cedar beams and the posts looked weird and forced us to offset the bed from the center of the wall, her OCD was not happy about that misalignment, haha. 

So, one day when she was out, I literally took my old Milwaukee Sawzall and lopped them off.  I replaced them with a cheap white plastic cap made for a 6x6 fence post.  I had sprayed ceiling texture on them and then painted them black and glued them on.  I had all that prepped ahead so when she got home it was done, posts gone, decorative cap installed.    

Her initial reaction was shock I think but then seeing how the room looked she ended up loving it.  When we moved in here she did say she thought the posts would have looked good.  I laughed and reminded her we used them as firewood in the stove that first winter at Smithlandia, we had a good laugh.

So after pondering on it, I am going to cut that bedframe down from King size to a Queen size, which is what my new bed is.  Well, I am either doing that or I will be simply making some saw dust.  Basically that entails cutting a 16 inch chunk out of the middle and cobbling it back together without being able to tell.  At least King and queen are the same length so no adjustments in that direction, although that would be a lot easier to accomplish.  No Sawzall for this work, not sure on the how yet other than I know it will take some sort of jig to hold everything in place.

All of that was hard and I cried a lot.  That seems to be a trend of late, the water works popping on and off again just as fast.  The valve does not seem to care much about timing or any sort of regular cadence.  It meeting, crank it on, driving, crank it on, sitting back porch, sitting in my office, watering the wildflowers growing along the fence, the location matters little to whatever valves are controlling that flow.   Truth be told, I don’t mind at all.  It feels better than the first week or so when tears were harder, I think due to shock. 

I feel like I am starting to accept that this is just going to be part of my new path, at least for bit.  Along with all the other things that I have, and will continue to accept into what my new norm is going to end up being.  Still no idea what that looks like so it is still three things on a list every morning and one foot in front of the other. I know with certainty that it will start taking shape at some point along the way.  I have been starting to wonder what that shape will end up looking like.  I have also been careful not to force things.  I know it will present itself as I take those steps forward.  Bride and I tried hard to not force things, and I think the universe has a way of pushing back when you do.  

So, I am on the journey, can’t say I know where I am heading yet but I feel a tiny bit more like a willing participant vs trying to stay in this place simply because the love of my life is there.  Realizing she will be with me on the journey, even if just in my heart, she is with me and that is a comforting thought.  I feel like an infant, just learning to walk again without the parts of me that used to be her.  I just miss her and it all just sucks!!     

My Nervous System Is Getting Its Ass Kicked

So 28 days in, everything feels like too it's much, happening too fast.  It’s all too loud and too soon.  It feels a bit overwhelming and that fucking sucks!!  My poor nervous system can’t seem to decide between fight, flight, or freeze.  I did not have any words for any of that. 

Recently though I was talking with a Sister from another Mother who is a retired Veteran, and among other things, is a grief counselor, and she introduced to a word I had never heard before - titration.  It is a term borrowed by trauma therapists from the chemistry discipline – gotta love science.  It’s basically a way of adding something slowly, in controlled drops, to figure out what you’re dealing with. 

In therapy, the methodology works the same way.  You break down overwhelming experiences into tiny, tolerable drops.  Instead of letting the whole thing hit ya at once, you take it in pieces.  It keeps the emotional flood from wiping ya out and gives your nervous system a chance to catch up.

She shared that with me after I told her about something that happened on my first day back to work.  On my drive home, I hit a bump.  Not a real one, but one that left me pulled over to the side of the road crying my eyeballs out.

I always called Bride on my way home from work, to hear about her day and share about mine.  When we were in Oregon that drive was 50 minutes or so, here it is closer to 8, but we still did it every day.  My routine was simple, pull out of the parking lot, turn right and make an immediate left and mash the call Beautiful Bride button. 

On my first day back, I did it without thinking.  Turned right, made the left and mashed the button.  And that’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks.

The water works kicked on full blast.  I had to pull over and let all that come out.  After a few minutes, and a pile of tissues later, and eventually I made my way home.

After that first day back, I drove home a different way.  It took longer but I did not feel like I could go that way.  Truth is, I didn’t want to.  

That, apparently, was a microdose of pain.  I hit the memory, felt it, and then had to move on.  I literally had to keep driving.  I couldn’t stay there.  That was titration, whether I knew it in that moment or not.  This week I am going to start driving home that way again, on purpose.

I know I may still have to pull over.  I know I may still burn through the puffs plus.  But I also know that it won’t hit quite the same way every time.  So now, with this new word, this new understanding, I’m going to try to be more deliberate about how I do this.

Not avoiding it anymore.  Just learning how to walk into it without getting totally wiped out - controlling the drops best I can.   

Bride and Her Control Chair

Bride had what she called the control chair.  If you have ever watched The Big Bang Theory, think Sheldon’s spot, only he was an amateur at it compared to Sandy. 

I got to laughing today about it, which felt nice to do, so I thought I would write about it.  IT felt good, unexpectedly good.  I think the funniest thing I learned over the last few weeks about it was that none of her friends even knew about it.  This was evidently something only shared with me, but it has been a thing since we lived together in the barracks rooms at the Naval Radio Transmitter Facility, or NRTF in acronym or NavRadTransFac.  Our call sign was NSS9 and we were  right across the Severn River from the Naval Academy.

I will admit now that I am not sure I know all the rules that went into determining how a control chair was selected, but I can share what I do know.   So, every place had one, in our home she had four of them, each selected with purpose, I say purpose because room layout and décor were oft times selected based on the location of the control chair, I never did fully understand the full matrix.   

They existed in other people’s homes, and on back porches.  They existed in hotel rooms, and in beach chairs and they existed on airplanes.  She even had one in our front yard at Smithlandia, hahaha, in the middle of the wilderness that one always made me laugh.

One thing I did notice, although it was not a hard and fast rule, is that she was mostly to my right, we could hold hands and we’d thumb wrestle if something needed to be settled.  Which seemed odd because she was always on my left when walking because we deliberately decided those hands felt better than the other ones when being held.  We had reasons for all sorts of silly things.

She also slept on my left side, even in that barracks bunk bed we started out in.  Yeah, we snuck into each other’s rooms in the barracks pretty much every night, me at the top of the stairs and her at the bottom, boys upstairs and girls downstairs.  Hahaha.  I guess in some ways that was a control spot as well.

The control chair at the dining room table was always the one closest to the kitchen.  She even had control chairs in restaurants.  She would not have a view of the kitchen or the bathrooms.  I would not even be able to count the number of times we swapped tables.  Hahaha, she had high standards and did not budge on them. 

I have been spending time in her control chairs, and Larry seems to like that and it makes me smile thinking about what her reaction would be.  I do know it would include a look like this one, a look I’d do about anything to see again.  

       

I Did a Thing Today, It was Hard

I took the step today of donating Bride’s car to Southeast Community College for their auto body program.  Here is some more about the place and its auto body program auto body program.    

It is the 4^th vehicle donation we have made over the years.  Well, three we did together.  My   66 GMC pickup she donated, and I found out about that when I got home from work and she asked for my keys and title.  It was a program that was to train inner city kids as auto mechanics as a trade.  We did establish a new house rule after that, no donating vehicles without speaking to each other first.

That new rule led us to start to think more deliberately about what we each wanted long term.  That eventually led to documenting those wishes, and that led to thinking about way more than just talking about cars.  All of that eventually led to wills, power of attorneys, both medical and general, living wills, health care directives, as well as estate planning.  We both knew what the other one’s wishes were, both conversationally and legally. 

Having sorted out all that ahead of time has made this bit of my journey much easier, including donating her car.  That was not my decision, that was our decision and it aligns with our wishes.

I will say this, no matter what age you happen to be, do those things now!!  It’s even simpler now with online services.  Life is so fragile and we just don’t know when we are going to come home on some random day and find our loved one deceased.  TRUST me, you will have so many other things going on in your head and life that you will find it a blessing to not have to think or worry about any of those hard decisions.  Depending, it can also eliminate any issues or disagreements with family who may have other thoughts on their wishes. 

To be clear, that was not the case with Bride but I have seen that happen before.  DO. IT. NOW!!! If ya need, I’ll pay for the fee for one of those online services for ya and that is a good start.  

I cannot recall if I mentioned that she had a fender bender not long after the Title issues we had getting it registered here in Nebraska, story here Oregon DMV story.    She loved that car, it was small and was pretty peppy as she said.  That came from the V6 in it.  She felt safe in it and enjoyed being up higher than other folks.  I don’t remember what year it was but she wanted a back up camera and better Bluetooth.  She was pondering buying something newer, and the engineer in me simply said let’s put a new radio in it that has all that stuff.  She cracked me up when she asked, “you can do that”.   I told her between being a technologist, a car dude and pretty much all around handy guy I was pretty sure I could handle that. So did that, including a 10” screen for the camera and interface, she liked that size for the Google Maps.

It has been a great car, aside from brakes and batteries and tires and routine things like that the only repair I had to do was when the AC quit working.  I was expecting the worst but when my mechanic called I was relieved it just a bad O ring in the system, I told him to just go ahead and replace every single O ring in the system, which he did. It was cream puff, we bought it in 2013, it was a 2011.  It had 58k on it, it belonged to a sales dude who meticulously maintained it and most of that was highway miles.  Today it had just a bit over 100k.  So in the 13 years she had it she only put about 42k on it.  The dude at the school was amazed at the shape it was in as well.

When I got home and went in the garage, it felt so empty with the Escape not sitting there, that was harder than dropping it off.  That is something that I suspect will feel that way for a while.  I think when I am done writing this, I am going to go move the Galaxie 500 over to that spot.  It is the Girl Jalopy so maybe that will help me get past that empty spot.  That spot holds a story now, just not with a car in it.  

I will add this tag to the collection of tags I have from every car I have owned.

 

A Life Well Lived is Truly Built on the Small and Mostly Mindless Moments we Mostly Take for Granted

There have been many big things in my way since the 21^st of April.  They have been front and center, right there, rigidly resting on bedrock and firmly in my way.  They are known, most are hard, and very solvable with time and effort because they are the obstacle in my way.  To quote Marcus Aurelius, “The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way."  So, I am advancing through the action of doing those things.  They have been hard and many but mostly it has been a task driven list.   

The thing I have noticed the most over the last three weeks is how many small, unexpected little things I have been tripping over.  Tripping because they are not big enough to be an obstacle in my way.  I feel that even the cumulative effect of tripping, falling, and getting back up again is still not an obstacle.  It is just something we all do in our lives, stumble, gain footing, and continue on the journey without giving the cause much thought. 

The things I am tripping over now are much more than just a stumble, they feel like harsh reminders of how many silly little things I have taken for granted.  The things that never really made a list, the things that just lived in the corners, in the mundanity of life we rarely even notice, until they are gone.  Now they are gone for me, I am surprised when I trip over them and wonder how I could have not been cherishing those moments more.

Things like adjusting the air or heat before going to bed, she had a narrow comfort range.  Or making sure we always had plenty of supplies so she would never run out of soap, trash bags, razor blades, body wash, and a million other things.  OK, I will probably continue that, the Navy baked that into my DNA so…  Or texting her a picture from the car wash that simply said “current state” in either my car or hers.  Always making sure her car had gas, that she had Coke, sugar free.

Sending pictures I did a lot.  Sometimes of her, once in the place where Larry gets groomed, I went around and hid behind things and texted her a picture of herself, having already moved to the next spot, hahaha.  She texted back “stop that ya dumbass”.   I sent her pictures of sunrise all the time.  She loved sunrise but hated getting up early more so she got plenty of pictures. 

Seeing someone that just needed to have a life story built for them and then subsequently be judged for the life we made up about them.  I saw a dude the other day on O street, I was sure he got his ass whooped in 6^th grade and would have enjoyed building out his life up to the point I saw him with her.

I am still making sure the shower curtains are just so when I get out and I am finding that I am closing the door to the pantry and cabinet doors.  That was something that drove her crazy when I didn’t.  I am washing my clothes in cold water, even though I never thought that made any difference anyway.  There are still a number of things she wanted to do to the house, I will go ahead and do those, even though I am not sure I will even stay in this house.  I have committed to not making any big decisions for at least six months so I got a bit of time.

Being in the house is hard, because of all the small things.  In case you did not know, I was not the picker in our lives.  Not of colors on the walls, not of furniture, not of stuff hanging on the walls, and not the way any of the décor was arranged or anything else.  I would do the work, painting, hanging things, moving furniture, swapping doors or installing new moldings but was not the picker.   Every room in this house has a 100 reminders of her, and that is hard.  My only reprieve from that is here in my office, that is the one place I did get to choose.   I have done nothing, except hang a picture and the story of H.O. Studley’s toolbox, and yes I built that frame.  I first read about that in Fine Woodworking magazine and was simply amazed by his talent.  Here is a bit about that H.O. Studley tool box.

That is also where I am right now, pecking away on a keyboard typing about my Honey.  All the small things feel like death by a thousand cuts.  I am a woodworker and old car mechanic so I have experience with that, but these cut a bit deeper and seem to not be closing up as fast. 

I go to my first grief session Sunday that focuses on the loss of a spouse.  I am both terrified and hopeful at the same time.  As I have said, I recognize I am on a new path, and I have no idea where its heading, no idea of the terrain, no idea of how long the path is or where it will end up, so one step a time, three things on a list every day is helping.  I am trying to make sure at least one a day includes forward motion and not just motion. 

Fuckity fuck fuck!!  I sure do miss ya BB

 

 

The Power of a Box

This is a repost from something I put on FB on May 4th over to here.

Last night I received the text and picture below from a Brother from another Mother, we talked afterwards. Damn dude, thanks for the cry and I love ya!  ❤️❤️

The Power of a Box

It is not only the label on a box that describes what is in it, it is also the quality of the box that represents the importance of what is contained within.

This is a beautiful box inside and out.

Outside the craftsmanship is up to the Smitty standard.

Inside the box is pure beauty, dreams, memories, great times, kindness, courage, boldness, love, laughs and beyond the Smitty standard.

The Power of this Box is beyond words.

Sandy Smith, The Most Amazing Woman Ever

I posted this on FB, I wanted to include this in the story of my loss.  I wrote this the day after and I did not edit it for posting here.

Sandy, my Beautiful Bride, passed away Tuesday afternoon.  She was the most amazing and courageous woman I have ever known, and she was the ABSOLUTE love of my life.

From the moment anyone met Sandy, they noticed the light, the spark, the thing that was immediately noticeable and unmistakably her.  She showed up in the world to play, fully herself and without pretense or filters.  As she loved to say, she would tell anyone exactly “how the cow ate the cabbage,” If they needed it, and at the same time she could do it with honesty, warmth, and always with a twinkle in her eye.

Sandy loved deeply and without limits.  She loved spending time with me, with family and friends, and with all the people she held closest.  She adored her seven siblings with her whole heart.  She embraced life as an adventure, whether that meant moving to Oregon for a Pacific Northwest chapter or heading to Nebraska for what she simply said “A Midwest adventure, we don’t have one of those yet.”

She lived life full blast, pedal to the metal all the time.  Sandy never held back, never let obstacles slow her down, and never installed a governor on any aspect of her life.  She laughed easily, especially at the chaos and absurdities of life, at smart‑aleck humor, and at the simple happiness that dumb ass Larry O brought her.   We loved people watching, building a whole life story for each person, then passing judgement on that made up life, based on nothing more than a glance as someone walked by.

Sandy was the bravest and most courageous human I have ever known.  She faced immense challenges with strength and determination, overcoming addiction born from prescription pain medication after back surgery, battling bipolar disorder with the constant chasing for the right cocktail of medicines to make life work for her, and enduring a series of serious health issues in recent years.  Every day, she got up, faced what was in front of her, pushed back the demons, and refused to let anything stop her, or even slow her down, from living her life on her terms.  Her perseverance was equal parts quiet determination, loud obstinance and relentlessness.  And it was all inspiring to those who knew her.

We met while stationed at a small Navy base in Annapolis, Maryland.  From there we built a life together that spanned 38 years, a life full of movement, laughter, and love. I spent every one of those years doing my best to keep her on a pedestal, where she belonged.  To me, she was beautiful inside and out, my Beautiful Bride in every sense of the word.

Sandy made rooms brighter just by being in them. She made people feel seen, told the truth with heart, and loved without reservation. Her life was a reminder to live boldly, love fiercely, tell the truth, and keep going, even when the road is hard as hell.

She leaves behind a love that was expansive, an absence that is immense, and a legacy of authenticity, courage, and joy that will continue to ripple through everyone who was lucky enough to know her.  She made me a better man, husband and friend

I will miss ya BB, till my last breath

Sandra Schwab Smith 4/29/1957 - 4/21/2026

Nearly Three Weeks In - A Few More Firsts and a Couple of Decisions and Progress Forward

Nearly three weeks in and I have taken a few more steps, three a day, had some more firsts, and made a couple of decisions.  It all still seems surreal and feels so weird that BB is gone.  I have not been alone since the day after, thanks again for all the support, I cannot imagine what this would be like without that.  

Last week two of Brides’ best friends from Jacksonville were here and it was great.  We played some cards, rummy which Bride and I played all the time and some three handed spades, which I have never played with three hands and a ghost hand.   When playing rummy, I learned that some of Brides “house rules” were 100% made up.  We have been using them for so long I never even questioned them, and I am sticking with them.  She was really good at cards, regardless of the game.  We had her picture at the end of the table, watching over us.  We went to Sandy’s favorite breakfast joint, Cooks Café, a few times. 

I had a couple of firsts last week that seemed odd but that I needed to take.  First was a trip to Sandy’s nail place with one of her best friends.  I have never had a Pedi.  I have always done them myself, and truth be told, it didn’t suck.  I think I may make that a monthly routine.  Toes are done in two different colors of purple, a lighter metal flake and a dark purple.  My method, just cover the nails and not worrying about keeping it off my skin.  In a couple of days, all of that would just flake off anyway.  It was funny, it was almost like a 2-stage paint job on a car.  Primer coat, base coat and clear, never did that either, always been a single stage dude.  

We also went to the Omaha zoo, which is pretty damn amazing.  Largest in the country, which I did not know.  Largest indoor rainforest and largest indoor desert I seem to recall seeing.  It was on Bride’s list and it was nice to see it with two of her best friends.  If you ever find yourself in Omaha, make that a spot ya go see.

While my Niece was here we got the big bed along the fence seeded with 4 pounds of wildflower seeds, native to here and great for the pollinators.  I have been watering those twice a day and there are all kinds of things popping up.  Bride had a vision for that bed that I am committed to seeing that through.  I also planted a bunch of sunflowers back there, 12 footers, 7 footers and 5 footers.  They have not sprouted yet.  I also need to finish installing the sprinkler zone to ensure I don’t accidently kill all of them.  Everything lined up and measured, perfectly spaced and fully symmetrical, she was quite OCD about that sort of thing.

 So, I am going back to work this week, not sure how that will go.  I am a bit terrified as I suspect folks will want to say something, and I am not sure how I will react to that.   Could be fine, it could he hard and it might turn the water works on.  I just know it will be hard.  I think day one will be a half day, maybe even the whole week.  I have already had coffee with a few folks on my team and my boss to test the waters on how that will go, so we will see how it goes tomorrow.

I am also picking a date this week to have her celebration of life.  I am thinking it will be early in June but that it is yet to be determined but I am choosing when this week.  It will also be streamed online, which still seems weird to me but being so far from everyone that will work out, I think.  When I speak to them about that, I am also going to see if I can add a peace sign and the words my friend wrote about “The Power of a Box”

For those who read the blog about Sandy’s car title escapades, it is in here a few down if you’re interested.  Anyway, we finally got Nebraska tags for her car and she was mobile again, and pretty damn happy about that I might add.  She was on her 4^th or 5^th trip when on her way home a 20 something year old kid side swiped her car.  I took it to get quotes and was told almost immediately that it would be totaled.  It is a 2011 Ford escape with 100k miles on it.  It has been an amazing car since we bought it in 2013.  Insurance says if it costs more that $3,200 to fix, they will total it. 

We talked a lot about options, the repair was going to be $5,800.  We explored just not having a car and Uber’ing about, she HATED that option.  We also did not want a car payment or to spend the dough outright on a new one.  We also knew we could never find a used car that was cared for and in as good a shape as hers.  Ultimately, we had decided to fix it and I was due to drop it off on Wednesday, the day after she passed.  I did not do that.  Now I don’t need another vehicle, so I decided to donate it.  Lincoln public schools only have auto mechanics classes, no body shop classes.  SE community college on the other hand does, I have been working with them, and we are targeting Tuesday for actually handing it off to them.   That is the third vehicle we have donated to schools.

I sure do miss her, my heart aches nearly all the time.  Another thing I am doing this week is spending time alone, for the first time since all of this started.  I have been surrounded by friends and family since the day after and I cannot imagine what that would have been like without that, I will forever be in their debt.  I also have a list of others who will come in time.  I feel like the next step is spending time alone with my thoughts, while I have a great back porch here it is nothing like the ponder porch or the ocean.  The location matters little really.  This part is about sitting with it and sorting out what comes next in my life.  It feels a bit scary but I know these steps need to be taken, I am going to keep on going, not slowing down.  She modeled that so easily, like slipping on an old comfy tee shirt.  DAMN I miss that girl!

Oh, and I bought a gold chain necklace and have Brides rings on them, I have not worn a necklace since my Navy days when I wore a St. Christopher.  Every jeweler I went to wanted me to leave it so they could solder on a hoop so they hang straight.  I didn’t like the idea of that.  I do not want those rings out my sight, didn’t want anyone messing with them.  So, I just put them on the chain, they twist a bit, sit however they want to, at least for now.  Maybe I can find someone to do it while I wait, or maybe I wait until I can leave them for a day to get that work done.  They are where they belong and that feels right. 

Two weeks In, Trying to Make It Feel Real

So yesterday I thought I would try to make all of this feel real, it hasn’t yet felt that way to me.  It’s been more like a bad dream that I cannot wake up from. 

First of all, I cannot thank Y’all enough for the outpouring of love and support, the physical presence, the random texts, the emails, the DMs, we were truly blessed by the universe to have so many chosen and actual family and friends who cared about us.  

I mentioned that I have taken three steps every day, which seems now like a lot of motion but I am not sure if it was forward motion.  Yesterday I decided to take one small step that was unmistakably forward. 

I threw away her toothbrush, 4 different times. 

First, I tossed it in the bathroom trash can.  Then I immediately pulled it back out again, thinking she would kill me if I did that to her toothbrush.  Later, I tried again in the same trash can.  I left it there for about 30 minutes and pulled it out again, still unable to do it. 

Then I dropped it in the laundry room trash can, where it stayed for another 30 minutes.  DAMN IT!  I pulled it back out again, I was starting to wonder if I could take this step or not.  Then I remembered yesterday was the day recycling gets picked up, so I went out and tossed it in the recycling can, shook it so it would fall to the bottom and wheeled that to the curb.   Thankfully the truck came and gathered it up before I could run out and try to pull it out again.

Of all of my steps so far, I believe that one tangibly moved me forward, towards the inevitable acceptance that my Beautiful Bride is gone.  It is so weird to think about.  Even weirder to type or say out loud.  

This morning, I tossed her razor in the trash, and since today is trash day, I wheeled that to the curb.  It was hard but it was easier than that damn toothbrush, that needed replaced anyway.

I have said a number of times that I don’t even know who I am without her.  Last night, a Brother from another Mother shared a story when someone told him, over and over, after a life event hurt him, that he was going to be OK.  It was a beautiful story of his friend supporting him because the friend knew who he was, at his core.  His friend knew he had the strength to work through that challenging moment in his life and come out the other side. 

After telling the story, he said, “Duane is going to be OK” several times. 

Upon reflecting on those six words I realized, I do indeed know who I am.   Bride was instrumental in defining who I am, fundamentally, I am still her Smit.  And Smit is going to be OK.  I am going to find ways to honor the many parts of who I am that she helped define over the nearly 4 decades of hanging out together, I was but 23 when we met so that is a lot a definition.

I have no idea how I will make my way back to OK.  But I know, absolutely know, that I will and that comes as a great relief to my heart.  

I was reminded by a morning text I received, sometimes it’s three steps forward, one step back.  And most times that step backwards is needed for something.  So, the important thing for me right now is to just keep taking the steps. 

Maybe tomorrow I will throw out her deodorant. 

Weird, the impact of a stupid fucking toothbrush and a razor can have, it almost makes me laugh.  When we first moved into an apartment together, we had a weekly airing of grievances.  The very first week my very first grievance was that she did not always put the lid on the toothpaste, that drove me crazy.  So, our simply solution was to each have our own tube of toothpaste, problem solved.  From that day forward, we had separate tubes of toothpaste, even different brands. 

New Firsts, Entry Two, 12 Days in

 It has been 12 days since Bride passed and I am just starting to share bits of this experience, one step at a time.  This is the second one of what will most likely be a bunch of these related to my journey moving forward, without Bride.  I am optimistic that I will get to a point where I can share more about our 38 years of adventures and journey together but I am not ready to do that just yet. 

The things that stand out in each of those days so far is the new firsts.  Everything seems to be a first, first time doing pretty much anything without Bride.  It started when I got home from work on the 21^st when I immediately called 911 and began CPR, with the 911 operator on the phone with me, that was a first.  EMT’s, Lincoln police deputies, Lancaster county Sherriff folks, and County Coroner folks all being in my house all at the same time, that was a first.  Answering what seemed like an endless list of questions, some about Bride, some about me and a lot about what happened, never did any of that before.  Being checked out by EMT’s, temp, oxygen concentrations levels, blood pressure, something looking at my heart with little things stuck all over my chest and legs, while sequestered in my office, new firsts.

Being comforted for my loss by two Lincoln police officers, Margaret and Jeff, no idea what their last names were but they spent what seemed like a few hours supporting me and I hugged them both when they left.  I was also comforted by a Sherriff's office chaplain whose name was Julie.  I don’t remember much of what any of them said but I do remember them being present and sharing space with me, and that was very comforting.  I also remember Julie helping me make the first few very difficult phone calls I had to make.  She stayed with me, sitting on the back porch watching the sun go down until about 930pm.  I have watched thousands of sunsets, some with Bride some by myself or others, but that day, the sunset felt very different, another first without Bride.  I am so glad that I instinctively snapped a few pictures of it, and my first thought when I did, to share them with Bride, not being able to, another first.  

One of the questions I was asked was about which funeral home I wanted to use, being new to Lincoln, I had no idea.  I learned they have an on-call rotation of funeral homes for situations exactly like this.  On that day it was Roper and Son’s, and I remember Logan asking me lots of questions and he too was very comforting.   When Sandy’s Mom died, I recall how she jumped into action to get those arrangements made, it was important work  to do and it was important to Sandy to do them, even after just losing her mother.  I had also watched Bride make lists for all sorts of things, so I picked up a pad and started a list of things to do.  To do my best to honor her courage when her Mom passed, I told Logan I would be by the very next afternoon to make the arrangements, we settled on 2pm.   

After Julie left, and I was all alone there was a knock on the door, my neighbor Jacob and his wife.  We know each other and are starting a friendship, which I find harder to do the older I get.  He did not say a word, just wrapped me up in a big ole bear hug and did not let go.  I cried and cried and he held on until I started to let go.  That human moment was exactly what I needed in that moment, and I will be forever grateful he gave me that unexcepted and much needed gift.  We traded a few words, none of which I remember, and they headed back next door.

I was sitting in the living room by myself and could not get the image of finding Bride out of my head.  Not sure how I thought to go find a bunch of my favorite pictures of Sandy on my devices, but I did.  I uploaded them to Walgreens to print out as 8x10’s, thinking I would pick them up in the morning, wrong, I got a text 7 minutes later that they were ready, so I ran up and got them, along with a bunch of frames. 

I sat in the living room with those pictures of her scattered around the room.   I can no longer see the images of her when I found her, I can recall it happening, I can describe the event but I can’t see her that way anymore.  I don’t know if it was the pictures or my brain protecting me from the trauma of that event or both, I guess it does not matter because I can no longer see it, and I count that as a blessing from the universe.

I did not sleep well at all and got up super early and sat on the front porch waiting for the sun to come up.  Like the night before, this one felt different, it was the dawning of a new day, in so many different ways than all the others, another first. 

The house seemed so large and so empty, I kept moving to different rooms to try to shake that feeling, another first.  This is when I realized, or maybe it was just acknowledging that I must be in shock.  I was unable to even understand what was happening, let alone begin to process all the feels and all the emotions that were flooding into my brain.  Each going 900 miles an hour, colliding with each other making me unable to function. 

My best friend, Mark arrived at 10am from Rhode Island, we have been friends since the early 90’s and Bride loved him too.  By noon thirty Sandy’s best friend Kathy from Oregon arrived along with my Nephew Chad from Vancouver Washington.  Looking back now I am not even sure how any of them pulled that off so fast and I sure as hell am glad they did though as being alone that morning was difficult.

I also had someone to come with me to Roper and Son’s to sort through the details of the next steps.  Sandy has a big family in Texas, with at least 60 or 70 folks, 7 siblings, their kids, and then those kids kids.  Knowing that, I asked for the ashes to be split and put into two identical urns with one being shipped to her older sister Suzanne.  So, after all the details were sorted I came away with things that I needed to provide, music, pictures and a few other things, they went on the list.  I spent time calling folks, our actual and chosen families and those calls were so hard but I was determined to take three steps forward every day so I did not get stuck in hell. 

Those first few days were simply a blur, the only real things I remember from the second day was picking up my Sister Karen and a Brother from another Mother Scott from the airport, they had come in from Ohio and Florida.  Then came my Niece Amanda, and tomorrow Conny and after that, Judy.  I also remember feeling loved and supported more than anything else.   

With all the calls I made, I got advice and things to think about, they all went on the list of things.  One nugget I got from a few folks was to create a list of folks who want to come and time those out so you have a longer time before you have to be alone.  It is crazy to think about but that list has like 15 people on it.  Our dear friend Conny sent groceries to the house, she lives in Florida. 

Being surrounded by people we loved and that loved us was so very helpful.  I will forever be in their debt for just coming, without fanfare or question, just got a plane and came to support and comfort me in any way they could.  And they did, and I know they felt supported and loved by me and the others, some of whom had never met each other before.  There has been crying and quiet contemplation of what the world would be like without Sandy in it.  There has also been lot’s of laughter and telling of stories, so many shared experiences from everyone with my Honey.   

I am still writing down my three steps each morning, somedays I get more in but at least three.  Each day it seems a little easier, but I know I am only fooling myself.  I feel like I have motion but I am not sure each step is actually moving me forward, but I am going to just keep moving until it is moving forward.  I got two recommendations for grief support groups, it seems weird but I am going one of those a try, I plan on doing the in person ones vs the internet based ones.

Yesterday I got the large flower bed along the back of our property sown with Nebraska native wildflowers that are supposed to be excellent for the pollinators, that was Bride’s idea.  I bought a new bed yesterday.  I have also been chugging through the notifications and adjustments to business relationships, the credit union, the gas and water bills and what not.  I still have more of those to do but I am making progress.  It was very hard to mash a web site button that said “Remove Sandy” from this account.  As She would say, FUCKITY FUCK FUCK!!!

 

Bride would have been 36,266,400 minutes old today - Happy Burfday Beautiful

Today would have been Sandy’s 69^th burfday, and she has been gone 8 days, or 11,520 minutes.  They are the longest 11,520 minutes I have ever worked my way through.  They also have been the worst 11,520 minutes of my whole life.  I have been surrounded by, supported and loved by chosen and actual family since about 15 hours after she passed, and that has been a blessing and I will never be able to truly express my gratitude for being present for me, for those who have been already and to those who are still slated to come share space with me as I work through this.

This is going to be a string of consciousness blog, because that is all I have in me right now.  I am eight days into this and am still absolutely numb, unable to even begin to figure out how to begin processing this.  I am pretty sure I am still in shock or maybe stuck between that and denial.  Or maybe someplace else that is not identified on a stages of grief chart.  My brain is absolutely torturing me about it.  The engineer part of my brain is overanalyzing and overrevving on what I know about the grieving process.  Intellectually I know what this journey is supposed to be.  I know it will be hard, I know it will have ups and downs and all the other things we all know will happen.  The emotional part of my brain is over there going fuck you with both middle fingers up, unwilling to start.  Maybe trying to protect me or shit maybe to just torture me I don’t know and I can’t even tell.

I know I have to move forward, one step at a time and one day at time.  I feel in some ways I have used all the folks who have come to distract me from the reality that one part of me knows exists while the other that refuses to even acknowledge it happened.  Someone asked me if I felt angry, I don’t but I know that is one of the upcoming stages.  If my journey takes that path anyway.  I am not angry, I am not really feeling anything yet.  Don’t get me wrong, I have cried and I am profoundly sad my life partner in crime is gone, but I have not yet started feeling it.  I guess that can be normal.  I seem sometimes fixated on what normal is and then i remember, Bride and I were about as far from normal as we could get so this journey will most likely not follow the manual, but in the end I don’t really know.

I am reminded of a song from back in the 90’s about going through hell, the chorus was “If you're goin' through hell keep on going.  Don't slow down, if you're scared don't show it.  You might get out before the devil even knows you're there.”  That could have easily been Sandy’s mantra in life, I watched her keep moving forward through adversity and challenging parts of her life over and over again.  She always got back up and kept moving forward, getting out of it before the Devil even knew she was there.  In light of that, I decided to write down three steps I could take that would move me forward for each day, trying not to show how scared I am.  So each morning I wake up, before anything else I write down three steps I am going to take today.  Not tomorrow, or the day after, just today.  They have been as simple as picking someone up at the airport to making calls to let folks know.

Intellectually I know that this is most likely reinforcing my denial and putting off the inevitable work ahead.  And my emotional side does not care.  This is what my gut is telling me to do.  So, I am, as I have for my whole life, trusting what my gut is telling me to do.  Right or wrong I am not going to deviate from the thing that has guided me through my whole life, regardless of what the experts say about dealing with grief.  This will be a journey that I am not in control of and on top of that, I am an unwilling participant on this bit of the journey.  The ride cares little about any of that, it marches on.  I do know that accepting the path the universe has put me on has always been easier than trying to fight with universe about it.  So here I am, on my new path, no idea where I am headed, no idea how fast or slow I will go or even the route I am going to take.  I know nothing more than the three steps I am taking today. I only know I am going to keep moving and that I will eventually get out of the absolute hell I find myself in.

 

The Oregon Department of Motor Vehicles – you made this way to damn hard for me!!

So, as many of you know I am a technologist by trade.  A technologist is not just someone who writes code, manages servers and fixes transmitters.  A technologist is someone who thinks in systems, interfaces, handoffs, constraints and failure points.  We ask questions like, where does this system break down?  What happens when the edge case becomes the common case systems are built around?  And most importantly we ask which parts of a problem are human, and which are structural.  By default, we diagnose, not blame.  We look for root causes, not symptoms.  We know most outcomes are shaped by design, not intent, and good people will do good work when the systems around them allow it.

I say all of that to frame this blog, which is version 2.  The first version was pretty damn pithy as my Mom used to say.  Some might have called it full Karen, so much so the title was “oegon DMV is at the top of my shitlist.  After letting that rest a couple of days, I decided to pivot away from that approach, which was filled with assumptions and provided no path to resolution.  Just 4,498 words of my pitching a royal bitch.  So, version 2 is a different approach to telling this same story, one that I am filtering through the lens of being a technologist.

Back in June of 2025 we moved from Smithlandia, located outside Sandy Oregon to Lincoln Nebraska.  When we decided to do that, we had four vehicles, two daily drivers along with two old classics, a 58 Ranchero and 63 Galaxie 500 convertible.  The Oregon tags on the Galaxie were expired when we left.  It was scheduled for full modernization, new engine, overdrive transmission, disc brakes and suspension, so it was going to be on the road right away anyway.  I sold the Ranchero in Oregon.

We decided to wait until we were settled into a house before transferring titles, registrations, and driver’s licenses, mostly because I am lazy and didn’t want to change the address on all of that a few months later.  That plan worked perfectly for my truck, with me walking out in about twenty minutes with the deed done.  That same morning, I took Bride’s Escape in, and that’s when this saga started, August 11^th of 2025.

After only a minute or so, the clerk headed to the back, out of my sight.  She was gone for about ten minutes, the whole while I was thinking, this is not going to end well for me, little did I know.  When she emerged, her face confirmed my thinking, not good.  She told me they could not transfer this title to Nebraska.  I asked, why not?  The title did not have an odometer reading on it.  I was like, what?  And when I looked, sure enough, there was no odometer reading.

Naïve me thought it was fixable in that moment.  I said the vehicle was right outside, that we could walk out there, get the number, and move on.  That assumption was wrong.  Nebraska, as I later learned every state, requires the odometer reading to be printed on the title itself.  Zero exceptions.  The clerk informed me that she had contacted the Oregon DMV and that it was an easy fix for them.  All I needed to do was contact Oregon.

Once I got home, I called the Oregon DMV.  After navigating telephone hell, punching this number and then that number, hoping to get to the right person, I eventually did.  The person assured me this was indeed simple.  She walked me through the form I needed to download and explained the steps, even waiting to ensure I’d gotten it downloaded.  During that process, I noticed there was going to be a fee of $106.   I was a little confused. Why was I paying the Oregon DMV to fix an issue they themselves created by issuing a title without an odometer reading?  After another call, I learned the fee was non‑negotiable, pay it or stay stuck.

I filled everything out, included the check and a letter explaining my situation, and sent it all to Salem, Oregon, where the DMV is headquartered.  I didn’t know at the time that there would be five snail‑mail round trips in this saga.  But there were.  The shortest took five weeks to come back, needing something else, and after the twelve week turn around, they were still asking for more.  Bride’s tags had long since expired, and she was forced to either Uber around or rely on me to take her places.  She wasn’t comfortable driving my truck.  I lost track of how many calls I made or how many stamps I bought.

I did call, a lot.  In those calls, I learned that the people answering the phones are not actually at any DMV and don’t have access to DMV systems beyond a knowledge base.  Like calling the cable company, where someone types your question into a system and reads whatever comes up on the screen.  Only this wasn’t about cable, this was state government.  I spoke to representative after representative, all telling me how simple this was and that I should “just go into the DMV.”  That it would only take minutes to resolve. I was surprised to learn, or at least be told, there was no escalation path.  No way to route a call to something like tier‑two support.  No way to reach someone who actually issued titles.

The last packet I mailed back included two different forms and a release of lien letter I had to obtain from a Florida credit union I hadn’t been a member of for over ten years, shout‑out to Community First Credit Union in Jacksonville for saving the day.  I told Bride that if I got another fat envelope back, I was flying my ass to Oregon to deal with this.  When I left, I told her I was either going to get this sorted or she might need to fly out with bail money if I lost my shit over some unknown new requirement.

We were wheels down at PDX at 1:18 p.m, taxied to the gate and grabbed a rental car.  At least I had miles for the flight and points for the rental.  My appointment was at 2:30, and I arrived at 2:00 and was handed number A978.  That number made me smile.  It was the hull number of the first ship I served on in the U.S. Navy, USS Stump, DD‑978.  While I waited, I thought about those years, the chaos, the problem‑solving, and how even in worse conditions, systems somehow worked better than this.

At 2:38, A978 was called.  As you know, I count things, so I started the stopwatch on my phone. It was already pulled up.  I showed my title, with the release of lien from 2015 printed on it, and explained that it didn’t have an odometer reading and Nebraska wouldn’t accept it.  Dan told me no state can accept a title without mileage. According to him, transferring a title without it is illegal, and their system wouldn’t even allow them to print one without it.

I pointed at my title with a bit of a smirk and asked, if it’s illegal, how exactly did I get one?  He explained the system had changed in 2016 and mine likely slipped through before the safeguards were in place.  As he typed, I mentioned my call‑center struggles.  He apologized sincerely and said he had no idea there wasn’t a way to reach someone like him directly.  He asked me to sign the pad.  I asked if he had everything he needed to issue the updated title.  He said yes, and I signed.

Then came the words I expected but still spiked my blood pressure: “That will be $106.” I asked if there was a way to dispute paying for an illegal title that Oregon had issued.  He said yes, with a smile, but it required traveling to Salem.  I stopped him mid‑sentence and reminded him I’d flown in from Nebraska and was leaving shortly.  I paid. I wasn’t happy, but I paid.  When I stepped into the parking lot, the whole thing had taken six minutes and twelve seconds. It really was simple and easy, if you are there in person, at the DMV, in Oregon.

What this experience ultimately reinforced for me is that people are very rarely the problem in these sorts of things.  Dan wasn’t the problem.  The call‑center staff weren’t the problem.  Most everyone I interacted with showed up trying to do the right thing within the rules, tools, and authority they were given.  The failures I encountered weren’t personal.  They were structural, the predictable outcome of systems that make it hard for capable people to produce good results for the folks they are supposed to be supporting.

I am a technologist by trade, which means my instinct is to separate people from problems. When the same failure happens repeatedly, across time and across individuals, that’s not a character flaw.  It’s a design flaw.  Attaching problems to people gives the issue a face.  It brings in all the feels, all the emotions and makes blame easy, and solving the problem harder.  Once blame enters the room, diagnosis usually leaves, at least that is my experience.

My work, whether I’m dealing with technology, organizations, or bureaucracy, is about fixing systems so ordinary, well‑intentioned humans don’t have to rely on heroics to get reasonable results.  Good systems absorb mistakes, expose failures early, and make the right thing the easy thing to do.  When they don’t, frustration becomes inevitable, as it did here, not because people failed, but because the system and structures did.

Maybe I should offer to consult with the Oregon DMV on improving their systems and structures.  This is probably an edge case that will never receive a moment of investigation.  That’s the sad reality.  In the real world we must build systems to solve for the majority of things, not the outliers or exceptions to the rules.  I know that to be true, and it was way too hard Oregon DMV!