At 7:00 on the morning of December 3, 1999,
in the bed we shared, Julie Showalter,
my beloved, fiercely smart, wickedly sexy wife,
died from cancer diagnosed the week
of our wedding nearly 20 years earlier.
I miss her every day.
And, After 14 Years, …
This annual post on December 3rd, the date Julie died,1 is the only recurring ceremony marking her life and death.
I don’t visit her grave. I long ago fulfilled her wish that her ashes be scattered in a number of distant locations important to us – a task that required significant travel and, as it turned out in more than one case, some illegal activity.
As far as I can determine, our sons, both of whom greatly miss their mother, don’t commemorate December 3rd – nor do I urge them to do so.
Julie’s mother and my mother, both of whom helped care for Julie in the weeks before she died and both of whom would call on December 3rd to lend their support, have themselves passed now.
I am, however, not alone. I am profoundly, unabashedly, recklessly in love with Penny, who became my wife two years ago. Nonetheless, I remain in love with Julie, and, indeed, I still miss her every day.
Now, Penny misses her, too.
The remainder of this entry is from the 2012 commemoration post. I can’t find a way to improve it.
In My Not So Secret Life
There is a certain cognitive dissonance implicit in posting a video called “And We’re Still Making Love In My Secret Life – A Video For Julie” as a public video on YouTube – and then writing blog entries about it.2 Nonetheless, the underlying theme – my passion for Julie since the moment I met her – remains valid. Beside, “In My Intrapsychic Life” doesn’t scan as well.
The following excerpt is from And We’re Still Making Love In My Secret Life – A Video For Julie, a post about the making of this video:
In fact, Julie was a vital part of the core of my interior reality from the day I met her, although she was, during the first eight years of that time, a singularly chaste component of my private universe, as I pointed out in the first part of Julie’s Story, This Is How A Love Story Began:
And, starting then, we spent time together, at first studying together, sharing lunch, and, most often, just talking. It was all quite innocent, because, as I would glibly but accurately note when retelling our story to friends — at that point, Julie was still married, and I was still Christian.
But all that was to change.
That change included not only the two of us living together for almost 20 years in an outrageously happy marriage but also her continued presence in my thoughts in the years since her death.
I’ve Missed Julie For For A Long, Long Time
- Same Date, Same Song, Same Memories Of Julie
- And Then She Was Not
- A Lifetime Together Will Not Be Enough
- This Is How A Love Story Began
- Kept In My Heart
- Dying is simple, What’s worst is the separation
- Now, We Both Miss Julie
- Madeleines – And Hong Kong Egg Cakes – From Reading About Alice By Calvin Trillin
- Reading Julie’s Letters On Our Anniversary
- Julie Liked Yellow Roses On Her Birthday
- Making Seared Tuna
- Julie, 11th Century Chinese Poetry, And “Build Me Up, Buttercup”
- Carol Shields On Living, Writing, Cancer, and Julie
- Madeleines From Reading Back When We Were Grownups
- Julie Showalter was a spectacular woman and, for far too brief a time, the center of my life. The strange and wondrous story of how Julie and I met, fell in love, and – 9 years, 2 husbands, 1 wife, and 2 careers later – got together to spend a magnficient20 years together before her death, her prize-winning writing, and the life we shared are featured in many posts at this site. See Julie Showalter FAQ. [↩]
- Of course, the same notion of cognitive dissonance applies to writing and then performing “In My Secret Life” all over the world to thousands of people, but Mr Cohen and Ms Robinson would, I suppose, claim artistic license. [↩]