September | 2023 | FiftyFourandAHalf

Crap.

I owe you an explanation. You, who may vaguely remember me. It’s been a while.

In fact, I’ve been working on my explanation for ages. Because I disappeared. Vanished from the ‘sphere. Went blogger-AWOL.

But honestly, I get bummed out every time I start telling you what happened. That is poison for a humor blogger and storyteller.

So I haven’t told the story here. I hope this time is a bit different. That I can tell the story. That I can get it out, so the Ziggy cloud over my head becomes more identifiable. More understandable. Well, I am going to try.

You see, I lost my straight man. My partner. My best friend. My personal Google. My husband, John.

And can I just tell you that I’m pissed? I was supposed to die first. After all, if you remember me, I’ve been sick all my life. Since I was about 15! I’m not going to set any longevity records.

John? Healthy as a horse. Ate well, exercised, timed himself brushing his teeth. Until he wasn’t. Suddenly, in the spring/summer of 2019, John was diagnosed with cancer. And not one of the good kinds (as if there are any good cancers). A cancer with poor treatment options and poorer outcomes.

Pancreatic cancer is evil. And relatively quick.

So my wonderful husband passed away last summer.

https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/washingtonpost/name/john-kingery-obituary?id=36024672

Jacob and I held a wonderful send-off for him last fall. We held it at a favorite Pizza/Brew Pub, with music provided by a Scottish duo – bagpipes, fiddles, guitar. A great group of folks came from all over the country and even from Europe: family, friends of ours from all times of our lives, colleagues. It was a party that even my introverted husband would have loved. I wish he’d been there in more than just spirit.

Jacob and I spread John’s ashes in the Cove in Maine.

That night we looked out over the Cove shimmering in the moonlight.