Wednesday, February 3, 2010


I spent the day yesterday at a work off-site in San Francisco, as part of a team planning an annual internal conference. I've been involved in this conference for a number of years, as an organizer or committee member or participant. This year my role is to manage a piece separate from the main event, so much of what we talked about yesterday wasn't all that interesting or necessary for me, but the dinner following was quite nice. Great Italian food in The City is never a bad thing!

The conference alternates locations between San Francisco and San Diego. This year it will be in San Francisco, in the same place it was two years ago. And two years ago, on the second day of the event, T died.

I've got a long post written describing everything that happened on that terrible day, and perhaps I'll publish it on the second anniversary. But in short, I had been feeling ill on the first day of the conference, so I stayed home. The second day, I woke feeling much better, so I got up (quietly since T hadn't stirred when the alarm went off) and showered and dressed, planning to drive up to The City. When I went to see why T hadn't gotten up, I found him still and cold in our bed. I never made it to the conference that year.

Last year the conference was in San Diego, and I was happy to participate on the periphery. It was a week or two after the death anniversary, and much of the time leading up to the conference was dedicated to planning and nervously anticipating the interment event I organized. This year, I don't really know how I'll feel, but I do know I was a bit stirred up yesterday. During the social part of the day, I had an overwhelming urge to talk about what had happened -- remind those who had been around two years ago, or tell one of the newbies. I managed to keep myself in check until I was carpooling home with a good work acquaintance. I just really needed to talk about it, and he was a good listener. He shared his experience of painful loss also, so it didn't feel like I was completely dumping on him. I felt better after having shared, and it was a reminder of how helpful it is to talk, to be heard. Thank you, Justin, for listening.


  1. I cannot imagine what that day must've been like for you. Finding your husband had passed away while you were sleeping.

    I'm glad you had someone to listen to you when you needed to talk. You're so right it's helpful to talk and more important to be heard.

  2. We must live fairly close to one another ... I live close enough to drive to SF hour north!!!!