Today marks five months since Stephanie's accident. Every month, on the 7th, I add another month to the one before, marking the time progression since her accident. Every month, on the 12th, I take another deep breath, because it marks yet another month since her heart stopped beating.
But, tomorrow, June 8th, marks the first birthday that Stephanie has missed. And it would have been her 40th.
In my experience, Stephanie was not one to celebrate birthdays. She always asked me not to do anything and I never listened, although I did become less obnoxious about it over the past couple of years. She would always remember my birthday though. When I asked her why she always celebrated my birthday and not her own, she said, "Your birthday is important to you and mine isn't!" (And, being selfish about my own birthday, I was okay with that.)
We did talk about her turning 40 at one point. It wasn't a long conversation, but more of a realization on my end.
It has been a tough five months. From the dull ache that I feel when there's something I want to tell her to the sharp pain when I realize again that she's not coming back, grief is persistent. As they say, it comes in waves... from shocking bursts of tears to quiet sadness; its ebbs and flows have become a part of me.
There has been joy and comfort too. Milo walked and my mom came to visit twice and friends came to her funeral and I heard from those who loved Stephanie and were impacted by her and those who love me and knew how I was impacted by her. Our patients and community shared their love and memories and my coworkers have walked beside me in our collective grief. And Randal has been a consistent comfort and solace as he has also grieved the loss of his good friend too. The terminal winter finally ended and it is finally warm in Klamath.
But, damn. It's hard. I miss her. Life moves on, as it must, but I can't help but resent it for doing so. Stephanie remains in the forefront of my mind - every day - and sometimes, I want her to stay in everyone else's mind as well. She played so many roles in my life that I didn't even realize initially. I could bike more, because she would lend me her car for meetings. She filled allergy prescriptions for Randal. She was the person with whom I shared my secrets and when I have a juicy piece of gossip, I always want to tell her first. She checked me in staff meetings and gave me communication advice. We shared presentations and letter of support requests. Everything that I write is a little poorer quality, because I lost my editor. I go to all of our work meetings because we can't divide and conquer and I know, without any ego or insecurity, that my insights during those meetings are never as insightful as hers would have been. And no one sends me quotes of the day anymore.
With distance, this event does not make any more sense. Karma. A better place. Work to do elsewhere. I don't accept any of those reasons. My only comfort comes in knowing that Stephanie told me once that she thought she would die young and, in retrospect, that helps explain her manic work ethic during her life. But, as I try to pick up the pieces in her professional life, I can assure you that her work here was absolutely not done. It still isn't.
Tomorrow, Randal and I will honor Stephanie by watching one of her (most recent) favorite documentaries - "Fully Charged." On Saturday, I will go on a hike and reflect on her, from giggling about the funny things she said ("That car is really riding my bottom!") to how I can best honor her. And I will miss her.
As I always do, every day.
But, tomorrow, June 8th, marks the first birthday that Stephanie has missed. And it would have been her 40th.
In my experience, Stephanie was not one to celebrate birthdays. She always asked me not to do anything and I never listened, although I did become less obnoxious about it over the past couple of years. She would always remember my birthday though. When I asked her why she always celebrated my birthday and not her own, she said, "Your birthday is important to you and mine isn't!" (And, being selfish about my own birthday, I was okay with that.)
We did talk about her turning 40 at one point. It wasn't a long conversation, but more of a realization on my end.
"Oh my gosh! Stephanie! You'll be 40 this year!"
"I know!" And she smiled broadly.
"What are you going to do? We should do something big to celebrate!!"
"Maybe..." (Translation: Not a chance, Katherine.)
It has been a tough five months. From the dull ache that I feel when there's something I want to tell her to the sharp pain when I realize again that she's not coming back, grief is persistent. As they say, it comes in waves... from shocking bursts of tears to quiet sadness; its ebbs and flows have become a part of me.
There has been joy and comfort too. Milo walked and my mom came to visit twice and friends came to her funeral and I heard from those who loved Stephanie and were impacted by her and those who love me and knew how I was impacted by her. Our patients and community shared their love and memories and my coworkers have walked beside me in our collective grief. And Randal has been a consistent comfort and solace as he has also grieved the loss of his good friend too. The terminal winter finally ended and it is finally warm in Klamath.
But, damn. It's hard. I miss her. Life moves on, as it must, but I can't help but resent it for doing so. Stephanie remains in the forefront of my mind - every day - and sometimes, I want her to stay in everyone else's mind as well. She played so many roles in my life that I didn't even realize initially. I could bike more, because she would lend me her car for meetings. She filled allergy prescriptions for Randal. She was the person with whom I shared my secrets and when I have a juicy piece of gossip, I always want to tell her first. She checked me in staff meetings and gave me communication advice. We shared presentations and letter of support requests. Everything that I write is a little poorer quality, because I lost my editor. I go to all of our work meetings because we can't divide and conquer and I know, without any ego or insecurity, that my insights during those meetings are never as insightful as hers would have been. And no one sends me quotes of the day anymore.
With distance, this event does not make any more sense. Karma. A better place. Work to do elsewhere. I don't accept any of those reasons. My only comfort comes in knowing that Stephanie told me once that she thought she would die young and, in retrospect, that helps explain her manic work ethic during her life. But, as I try to pick up the pieces in her professional life, I can assure you that her work here was absolutely not done. It still isn't.
As I always do, every day.
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| We toasted the completion of a big grant application. She hadn't showered in several days, so wouldn't let me take a better picture of her. It was a good night. |
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