There was a time that I would have met another young-ish widow, and after hearing her say that it had been four years, I would have assumed that she had most things figured out. I rarely feel that way, and I should warn new wids that while we move forward and develop new patterns and traditions, it never becomes easy. I struggle with second guessing a lot of decisions I make. Without having your spouse to talk with about everything (finances, activities, vacations, parenting, appliances) it all falls on one set of shoulders. I used to tell Aaron all of the funny things the kids said and did, and we would laugh so hard. Nobody else really cares to hear daily stories like that. When one of the girls does something awesome in school, sports, or other things, they just have one parent celebrating. Not knowing if I am making the right choices can be hard, but I have learned to trust my gut and use my heart as a compass as much as I can. Loss is hard for us. I see it easily with my kids. They cry when the school year ends, when their grandparents leave, and especially when they learn others have died. We have stuff that we will have to work on more than others. The part that I hate the most is the math- it just really sucks sometimes. At four years out we have been in our home longer without him than we were with him. Layla has lived longer without her dad than with him. And this summer, I’ll celebrate our anniversary for the 5th time alone, exactly half as many as with him. I hate that the further away we get from 2018, the more and more distant some of our memories become.

Looking back, there might be a few things that I have kind-of figured out. I can easily mow the grass, shovel the snow, and start a fire (on purpose.) I have figured out how to budget pretty well. I have an idea of who to call for help in various situations, and I would say the normal ins and outs of parenting often come somewhat naturally to me.

Sunday, February 13th, 2022 marked four years since Aaron died. Normally when the 13th falls on a weekday I take the day off and do whatever feels right to me. I almost completely unplug, and honestly just follow my soul for the day. Aaron loved that part of me: spontaneous and free. I don’t get to honor that as often as I once did. I am a teacher, a mom, and a mostly responsible adult. This requires schedules and a lot more organization than I prefer. This year the 13th fell on a Sunday. The kids had a 4-H meeting and later the Superbowl game. Other than the game, we unplugged for the entire weekend. I am not sure if the girls would admit this or not, but life is usually a lot more meaningful when we aren’t connected to devices or tv. They completed a 500 piece puzzle, they played together, they read, and I heard so much laughter that it warmed my soul. Of course, I cried. I remembered. I laughed.

I took the next day (Valentine’s Day) off from work. I need the day to fall apart without the girls around. I can swear loudly if I choose, the cat doesn’t really care. I brought the kids to school, and followed my soul. It turned out to be just a really cool day. I sprayed some cologne on one of Aaron’s shirts (today: a pirate shirt from a visit to St. John or St. Thomas, and Paco Rabanne Invictus) and went for a drive. I have done this before. No destination, and sometimes nowhere important. Maybe a tool store where we went once, an antique shop, a restaurant that we visited often, past old dives and haunts, or places we used to live. The plan is typically to see where the day takes me.

This year it took me to to Diamond Jo Casino in Northwood, IA. Aaron and I went there just once in 2016, and when we arrived we realized the Marshall Tucker Band was playing. We were excited for a casino buffet, and were somewhat underwhelmed- I think we had spent too much time in Las Vegas buffets to compare to small town Iowa. Anyway, we laughed and danced and had a good time.

This year, on my solo trip, I smiled at the memories. After arriving I wandered around inside for a while. I love the slot machine lights and sounds, and although typically I am not a fan of the cigarette scented air, it does seem to fit in with the rest of the casino ambiance. I found a machine to do with fishing that I was willing to pay my gambling dues to and I sat down. I played for a while and walked away with a loss. I found another one, called Pirate’s Loot or something like that, and took a seat. I won a bit, I hit the “extra bonus” a few times, and I cashed out at a really good time. Way up, but not enough to pay taxes on. I found another machine, and this one spoke right to me, too. On the screen was a mustached Latino fella with milk-chocolate eyes and a goofy smile, who would play the guitar, and his donkey would kick some bonuses at me. I played there for a while, and walked away with more than I started with. I left with a happy soul, and drove back to MN.

I approached the city of Albert Lea, and although I had no reason to stop, went to the “mall” there. There was only one store that I went into- Dunhams. Aaron and I had been to one in Red Wing once many years ago and bought some ski accessories. I didn’t buy anything this time but had fun looking at stuff. Then I drove toward Austin. I pulled off the interstate, and remembered a really great place that I hadn’t thought of in years. I didn’t know the name of it, nor exactly where it was located, but those are small things on a day without destination and plans. I drove almost right to it: Kenny’s Oak Grill.

I must have gone there with my family many years ago, because I have a very faint memory of all of us being there. Some years later, Aaron and I went to visit my aunt/Godmother, Margaret, and she requested Kenny’s for dinner. We loved the small town- family owned business, and the décor was so fun. Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, and other jukebox-esque décor lined the walls. Aaron and I talked about how if we ever hit the jackpot, we would open a roller rink in Rochester and showcase the same theme of yesteryear. There is just something about it that is good for your soul.

In 2007 when Aaron’s mom (Sue Dubé) was battling cancer, she asked us to bring her to visit Margaret, who was also battling breast cancer. Margaret had already tried a few different treatment options, but decided that she was done fighting. As we visited, she happily told us all about the meal she had chosen for after her funeral, and she smiled as she spoke of her late husband. She laughed as we talked about the Vikings, and she told us about how much fun she had at our wedding earlier that year. She hugged us all a little extra tight as we left. We all knew that our visits were numbered. After we left, Aaron drove to Kenny’s, and I think we all had shakes. Sue talked about how much she admired Margaret and her decision to enjoy her last days, instead of fighting.

In February of 2013, we attended the funeral of one of Aaron’s grandfathers, Jim Schuster. By this time, Margaret and Sue had both been gone for about 5 years. We had a beautiful new addition to our family, our sweet little Maizy, who was less than 2 months old. The funeral was in Wells, a small town not far from Austin. Aaron was so proud, as family members were meeting his baby girl for the first time. She giggled and cooed at everyone, and radiated the magic of new life. Aaron truly beamed with pride. His dad (John Dubé) had ridden with us, and although the roads were questionable, Aaron brought us all back to Kenny’s again. It was worth the risk. He knew his dad would enjoy the nostalgic ambiance, and he was right. The simplicity of the good old days is such to remember. I brought Maizy to the restroom to change her diaper, and had to ask another gal to watch her for a quick second. She was on the changing table, and had a massive diaper blow out. It was at least a 2 man job, and I had to run out to the dining room to request assistance from Aaron. He held our wiggly gal down in the ladies room and distracted her while I took care of business, then ran to the car to for a change of clothes. Good times.

This year I walked in and was seated in a booth by a sweet gal named Cara. There were older men drinking coffee at the stools who were talking about the football game. One didn’t understand why his guy didn’t win, and the other was trying to explain that the Chiefs weren’t actually in the super bowl. An older gal sitting near them was cackling with laughter. Hearing didn’t seem to be in their favor, and I enjoyed their banter. I assume the whole place did. The smell of grease, the charm, and the noise was the medicine I needed. After ordering food that turned out to be enough for three meals, I waited and listened. There are moments that I can feel Aaron’s spirit, and this was one of them. Two songs played while I waited. The first was a favorite of both of ours. The Beach Boys “God Only Knows.” We played a video with photos of us together as our wedding reception, and this was the song that played. The next was James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain,” (but I always thought that I’d see you again.). I felt goose bumps and tingles, but I didn’t cry. I just appreciated the moment. And gosh, I love that song!

Just after I paid (a very low price for three meals) I went to use the ladies room. I looked at the changing table where Maizy had been as a tiny baby 9 years ago, and I felt the sting in my eyes. It was too late to stop the sobfest. So many that I remember eating with at Kenny’s have died. Margaret, Sue, John, and Aaron. I thought of all of them, laughing, smiling, and living. I buried my face in my hands and convulsed for a few minutes. And I remembered that it has been a really, really long time since I have cried like that. But four years ago, I was sobbing like this regularly. Many times each day, and for a very long time. I’m grateful that the acute pain has lessened so significantly in the last few years.

We’ll always miss Aaron. We talk about him, we laugh about how loud he was, and we keep pictures up on the walls. I’ve worked really hard to build us a good life, and despite more loss in life than I would prefer, we do have an amazing life. We are warm, safe, incredibly well-fed, loved, and very happy. I have an incredible tribe of family and friends, and I am in a really good place with those relationships. I know that Aaron would not want anything but every joy and happiness for us, and I choose accordingly.

Aaron’s cologne I sprayed on his t-shirt is called Invictus, apparently after a poem by William Earnest Henley. I didn’t know the poem until a few hours ago. Here is the last stanza:

“It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul.”

Thank you, Mr. Henley.