I guess the other thing that's hard to articulate as a positive is that last year was an important part of our marriage. That we spent so much time together on her treatment and traveling together. Long conversations. Tending to her.

It deepened our relationship. Trust and tenderness and working together through hardest trials.

Over a 20 year marriage you will have your ups and downs, but there were no doubts about who we were to each other in 2023.

There were two or three times when we were at the Sofitel Hotel in Beverly Hills, after I'd scrambled to handle one hurdle or crisis when she'd say: "I love you so much."

And I knew she was telling me she was grateful for me handling the bullshit.

But when I think about it now there was another layer there. Of just speaking to that deepening bond that we were feeling in the midst of her cancer care.

When we'd gone through hard, stressful times in earlier years and were having a fight she'd invariably say, "I don't even know why you married me!"

When she was at home during hospice, after she was past most talking but still present I would go in to the bedroom to see her, relieving whomever was on duty.

I'd lean down to kiss her and I'd say, "I love you so much."

And she would sweetly lift her face up to be kissed, completely certain of our love and bond and commitment. She knew why I had married her.

I can appreciate that.

It's all so heartbreaking.

Suela, I am so sorry. How sad.

That's lovely, Hec. I'm so, I don't know, something, that you can see and articulate all those things

Matilda wrote about Jacqueline yesterday too.

She was inspired, in part, by talking to a fellow student at her school who had lost his father earlier this year and whose mother was going into surgery.

She posted this on Instagram:

today is one year since my moms diagnosis. it feels like a time check to remind me how little time we had with her or as i’ve been calling it “the beginning to the end”. this year has been filled with so much heartbreak, loss, reconnection, grief and growth. i am eternally grateful to the loved ones who stepped up to support my family and i during this unprecedented year, even if they are no longer a constant in our lives. truly, i will never be able to fully show my gratitude. 

I know i always talk about my mammas external beauty, but on the inside is where her insurmountable beauty shown through most. i will never meet someone with such intense wit, humor, kindness and love. she was the most caring, supportive, and wonderful woman that i was lucky enough to call my mom. 

I feel so lucky to the point that i can’t even begin to have the vocabulary to articulate it. she was extremely adept in the arts and had such a wildly vast and creative mind. not to mention, her fiery determination to do anything in her power to make a change in the world when it came to something she was passionate about. the life lessons and tools she unknowingly taught me are the things i will randomly notice and treasure for the rest of my life. 

if you know how this loss feels, you must know that i cannot romanticize the ineffable emptiness that you feel when you lose a parent. i am not going to say you are “so strong” for making it this far because we already knew that. i want to say that it’s okay to be “weak”, you don’t need to isolate yourself to be “strong”, letting your emotions flow is the bravest thing to do for yourself. 

just please understand, that no one can dictate how long it “should” take you to pick yourself back up. grief of a loved one is completely not linear and at times feels incomprehensible. it’s okay to smile and laugh and i promise it’s okay to not know how to feel. just try your best to take things day by day, every breath you take is a step in the right direction. regardless of where you are in your journey, if the holidays feel like they are looming over you, please know that you are not alone, just making it to them is a feat in and of itself.

Oh, Matilda. She is wise like mamma.

Definitely JZ's daughter.

And Hec's. She got good things from both of you, clearly. She sounds like someone I'd like to be friends with.

THat is so lovely. Thank you for sharing it, Hec.

I have scarcely been able to check the board since Jacqueline died. I am so sorry. David/Hecubus and JZ's whole lovely family are the ones in real pain. I know this.

It's just that — remember how, after ita's passing, a whole lot of us couldn't do this?

That's how I feel about JZ. For me, JZ was the heart of who we (Buffistas) are. I am not discounting or even just skipping over ita, ginger, Frank, etc. ita was the reason we could do this, and she had that je ne sais quoi. Every single one of us has made this place this place. But JZ was this place for me.

Jacqueline was so lovely. She was kind. She was polite. She was literate. She was so smart. She was warm. She was funny. She put so much thought into everything. She was a wordsmith. She was artistic. She was just the best of us. Ever. She wasn't a Buffista spirit baby. She was the spirit of everything to which the Buffistas aspired. Plus, and I am saying this in hopes of pleasing her ghost — JZ was asstastic.

When I come here, and she's not here, the lack of JZ hurts my heart.

But David (Hecubus — I don't know which handle you search on), I read your beautiful, painful reckoning of your marriage during JZ's illness. I am so glad you wrote it. I am so thankful I got to read it. I am so glad, so grateful JZ had you during her hardest moments. Thank you for being a good husband. She loves you so much. (I said "loves," my friend, because love doesn't die.)

I ugly-cried through the whole thing. I couldn't really let it sink in, but I let in what I could. Thank you for loving her the way she deserved. I am so angry (and sad) that you don't still have her in the flesh. I'm so angry we don't all have her.

Reading Matilda's tribute is what killed me, though. Her words read just like her mom's words. I felt like I was still reading my friend JZ. I am having a hard time breathing after reading her.

This is so embarrassingly overwrought. I know it. I just don't know what to do about it.

So I will just leave this here:

So you might think that all I have to say about 2023 is: Fuck it. Drop the calendar in the middle of the room, douse it with lighter fluid and drop the match.

But that's not how I feel. I will take every painful moment of 2023 because it's the last year I had with Jacqueline. She won't be in any of 2024 or any year after that.

I would take 2023 in all its stress and shock and pain and loss for one hundred times in a row to spend that time with her.

Word.

Also...

P.S.

JZ - Jan 02, 2007 3:45:47 pm EST #7757 of 10001

[tag] See? I gave everybody here an opportunity to tell me what a bad person I am and nobody did, because I fuckin' rule.

Also, if we're putting in obit vocabulary requests, I want "gumption" or possibly "stick-to-itiveness."

Oh, our JZ, you had gumption. You had stick-to-itiveness. (And oh Mr. Grant, you had spunk.)