Although its been over 10 years since the sudden death of Don Shepherd, and although most times Im more than okay these days, there are moments where the guilt and regret of things past starts to overwhelm me. I know its silly and I know that I shouldnt waste my time torturing myself with these things, but I honestly cant help it, it just comes flooding into my mind on some days.
Like Valentines Day, and Superbowl weekend. Usually they are not on the same weekend, but this year, they are one day apart. If you have followed my posts here, you know by now that Superbowl Sunday in 2005 was the day that Don traveled his entire life in a Penske truck (including his cat Isabelle), and drove from Florida to New Jersey to move in with me and begin our life together. It was February 5th, and that year, it happened to fall on Superbowl Sunday. My memory of that day is a calming one – eating homemade lasagna and meatballs while surrounded by all of Don’s “stuff” in boxes. We may have even used one of those boxes as our eating table that night.
About a week later, it was Valentines Day. Our first one living together. Im still not sure what I was expecting, but apparently ,it was more than what he did. He had JUST moved in a week before, was still getting his bearings, hadnt found work yet, was still unpacking, and still figuring out the awful NJ roads and parking rules. It seemed like every time he moved his car, he would get a ticket. (eventually we would pay monthly to have a spot at the indoor parking garage across the street, but at this point we were still on the waiting list.) So on that first Valentines Day together as a couple who now lived together, Don went out and braved the stores to go in search of some sort of gift for me for the Hallmark holiday, as some call it. I remember he came back with a card that he had quickly signed while sitting in the car, some chocolates, a single rose, and those little conversation hearts. He held it behind his back when he walked into the apartment, smiled his cute crooked smile at me, and said: “Happy Valentines Day, Boo! I love you!”
My reaction was ridiculous. The worst part is, at the time, it felt like I literally could not control my ridiculous reaction. It just happened. I looked at the small box of chocolates and the hurried card, and I started crying. I somehow spat out an unappreciative “thank you” as I ran into the bedroom and threw myself onto the bed like some ungrateful teenager who didnt get her way. Don was clearly confused, and most likely thinking of turning back and driving to Florida rather than deal with this crazy bitch – but he sat on the bed next to me and started stroking my hair. “I’m sorry, Boo. Are you upset at the Valentines gifts?” I looked at him like he had just murdered my family, and said through my overdramatic tears: “I guess. I just thought there might be more, its our first one together.” He was so patient with me. Always, always so patient, even when I was acting like this insane and priveleged Valentines Day Queen. “I’m really sorry”, he said again. “They were out of flowers entirely at the grocery store, and didnt have much else. So I got the card there, and then tried the gas station store, no flowers there either except these cheap-ass single roses that are probably half-dead, so I got one. I’m sorry I waited until last minute. Ive just been so busy with getting settled in and everything, I forgot. ”
I remember sitting there crying, and while I was crying, I was simultaneously thinking: “what the hell is wrong with me? Why am I so upset?” I didnt even know. I think it was because, in my mind, he had “forgotten” about Valentines Day, and if he could forget about that, what else would he forget about in our future life together? I don’t know, but at the time, it was upsetting to me. Then I said something that I still regret. I said: “You’re just not very romantic.” When I said that, he almost laughed out loud. He raised one eyebrow as if to say: “Really?”, and then, he responded: “Not romantic? I just put my entire life into a Penske truck and walked away from everything I knew including a really great job, my friends, my mom, , Florida weather, everything – so that I could start my new life IN NEW JERSEY of all places, with the woman I love more than anything. If that’s not romantic, i don’t know what is! ” Then he paused and said for a third time, and very sincerely: “Im really sorry I couldnt get you real flowers.”
After I pouted a bit more, we went out for dinner that night together, and all was well, and the gas-station rose and the crappy chocolates became a private joke with us for years to come. I think I apoligized to him several dozen times later on, for being such a jerk that day. He, of course, took it in stride and laughed it off, and said: “thats okay, Boo. Your majesty deserves more than gas station roses, and in the future, she shall have more.” On Valentines Days after that, he would always get me TWO bouquets of roses, two cards (one from the kitties and one from him), really nice chocolates, and a card that he would write in, and he would try to write something romantic. He was able to laugh off my ridiculous behavior AND do better, even though he really didnt need to and I really didnt deserve it.
And then there is me – sitting here all these years later, feeling guilty and feeling like an asshole for being such a jerk that day, and on a few other days. Don Shepherd was so damn kind and patient and loving with everyone – with me. He did not deserve my temper tantrum, nor did he deserve to feel like what he did or what he was , was not enough. I STILL feel so incredibly bad that I made him sad on that day, and on other days, because I was not adult enough to understand REAL pain, so there I was crying about conversation hearts and candy.
Don was so good at just letting things go. He didnt hold onto feelings of guilt or anger – I dont think I ever saw him even get angry, unless it was at someone who was mistreating animals, women, or children.
I wish I could learn to let go of my guilt and my feeling like an asshole. I wish I could remember the many, many days that I was a great wife – instead of having the small handful of times where I was not at my best, stick in my mind over and over, on replay. I wish I could forgive myself as quickly as Don did. Actually, when I apologized a million times for it, he would just say: “Nah. Theres nothing to apologize for.” Then he would add with a laugh: “Ill tell you one thing, though. Im ever forgetting Valentines Day ever again, thats for sure!” And he didnt ever forget. He went above and beyond, and always with the patience of a Saint.
I love you, Don. And I’m still sorry.
Whenever I see cheap gas station roses, I think of you and laugh.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
I think I’m a much better wife the second time around. I would never dream of being upset over something so incredibly stupid. Im very thankful for my husband Nick, and all the ways that he loves me. I just wish you didnt have to die in order for me to be better at this. I wish you got this “better” version of me, instead of the naive and sometimes bitchy one.
Sometimes the lessons of life are learned at an incredibly high price.
Much higher than gas station flowers.
