Under the best of circumstances, and particularly since being under lock and key for Covid, I’m notoriously calendar challenged. It’s even worse when I’m deep in writing a book. For instance, while writing UJB #22—UJB=Unnamed Joanna Brady)I’ve been living on August 29, 2024 for the past couple of weeks.
As a consequence I was surprised to learn that Father’s Day is on June 21. For some reason I thought it came earlier in the month, but it turns out this year we’ll have more than one reason to celebrate.
In June of 1985, I was invited to do a poetry reading of my book After the Fire, which had been published in 1984, at a widowed retreat at a YMCA camp on the Hood Canal. The woman who issued the invitation was Diane Bingham, a Vietnam Widow, who was one of the movers and shakers behind WICS—Widowed Information Consultation Services of King County.
After the Fire tells the story of my eighteen-year relationship with a man who died of chronic alcoholism at age 42. If you happen to have any first-hand knowledge of living in an addictive relationship, you have some idea of what that life was like.
After five years of dating and thirteen of being married, I finally called it quits and got a divorce. My husband passed away a year and a half later. The problem is, that piece of paper doesn’t make all those years of feelings go away—a reality many of the poems in After the Fire make abundantly clear. As for some of my co-workers in the insurance business? I remember one of them telling me, “What are you upset about? You divorced the guy, didn’t you?”
So I was worried about going to the retreat. For one thing, this would be my first ever public reading and signing because the first Beaumont book wasn’t due to be published until later that month. For another it was a WIDOWED retreat. All the other people who would be there were still married to their spouses at the time they died. I was divorced.
When I arrived at the registration table, I expressed my misgivings about being there to the hostess checking me in. She said, “Honey, if you feel like grieving, this is the place to do it.”
That evening one of the few people I actually did know at the retreat invited me to sit at her table, and during the course of diner I was introduced to a whole bunch of people. The next day at lunch, still at the same table, I sat near a male friend of hers. My reading was scheduled for early Saturday afternoon, and I thought he might show up for it, but he didn’t.
That evening there was a choice of activities—an outside egg race or an inside support group gathering. Remembering my hostess’s advice, I opted for the latter. When I entered the room, there were probably forty people seated in a circle. Still uneasy about having my ticket punched for being there, I grabbed a seat next to the facilitator.
First we were supposed to say our name, our spouse’s name, when they died, and what they died of. I said, “My name is Judy, my husband’s name was Jerry, and he died of chronic alcoholism a few minutes before midnight on New Year’s Eve 1982-83.
As the introductions continued, the next guy up who was seated at approximately ten o’clock in the room, happened to be the same one I’d met at both dinner the night before and lunch that day. He said. “My name is Bill, my wife’s name was Lynn, and she died of breast cancer just before midnight on New Year’s Eve, 1984-85. Whammo. We share that same date! I thought.
Then we were supposed to give a little personal background. I said that I’d been on my own for five years. Since no one was ringing my doorbell at my downtown-Seattle condo, obviously my life as a woman was over, so I was raising my kids, writing my books, and making the best of a bad bargain.
Then I waited to hear what Mr. Ten O’clock would say which turned out to be ZIPPO. As in NADA. So by the time the support group was over, I was pissed at him and went looking for him with blood in my eye. I found him out by the bonfire where people were roasting marshmallows.
I marched up to him with a huge chip on my shoulder and demanded, “So what are you, the strong silent type?” He looked at me and said, “No, it still hurts too much to talk about it.”
Within FIVE MINUTES, I was literally weeping on his shoulder and thinking, “This is so stupid but it feels so good.” Meanwhile he was standing there with one hand around my waist while trying to figure out what to do with his other hand.
Why that momentary confusion? Because we had both married the first person we ever dated and were about the marry the second! We met at dinner on June 21, the first night of the retreat, and married six months later on December 21. Our first actual date turned out to be the grand-opening signing for the first Beaumont book which occurred the following week.
So on Sunday, we’ll be celebrating Father’s Day, yes, but we’ll also be celebrating that fact that 41 years ago we were both brave enough to take that bold leap of faith and accept the idea that love really could be lovelier the second time around.
It has been, and that’s why that signing is truly my best book signing ever even if Bill didn’t actually show up for it.
PS. If you happen to have one of those first editions of After the Fire, the one with the brown cover, you really do have a rare book. Only 500 of those were ever printed.
Thank you for sharing your story. It’s beautiful.
That is like having PTSD. We would get togeather after a call when had lost a patients The first question was did so do enough we don’t always remember the ones we saved. We do remember the ones we lost. We have to live with that from now on. It is not easy. Especially it was a close personal family member.
I don’t remember what color my copy of After The Fire is, it is packed near the bottom of the bin it is stored in. When it is time to re-read that bin, I will be sure to check. Happy Fathers Day to Bill and Blessing to you both.
That was bravery at its finest for both of you! And I will now be on the lookout for the brown covered book. The copy I have is white, or maybe off-white.
Beautiful, Judy and Bill…God does work in mysterious ways.
That was a very touching story.
Hope Bill has a nice Father’s Day.
Glad you and Bill are still together.
I think it’s time to go read After the Fire again (no, I don’t have the one with the brown cover), even though I’ve never had a spouse, alcoholic or otherwise.
I have the lavender cover edition…
I discovered it probably 20+ years after my alcoholic marriage ended…but, the feelings remained, they remained, along with regrets for not ending the marriage sooner. Sooner, so, my four kids could have had childhoods minus the ups/downs, hopeful elations, then, the inevitable disappointments and fears that I now see marred their lives. Watching our parents is how we learn what love is…
Now, I know: LOVE IS SHOWING UP AND HOLDING FEELINGS IN HIGH REGARD. FEELINGS MATTER!!
Your wisdom in giving your children a more positive childhood is one attribute I most admire about you!!
A friend I used to work with just shared on Facebook that her ex had died (he was only 52) and that even though they’d divorced after 12 years, she still felt sad and hurt. I copied one of the paragraphs from your blog to send to her to let her know that what she was feeling was normal, and told her the name of your book, in case she wants to read it (not sure why they divorced). I really appreciate that you share details like these in your blog, and I look forward to reading them every week.
Judy, I met my husband at a tavern in Ballard where I had gone to listen to some old-time rock and roll. When it was time to leave he needed a ride home because his buddies had left. But as chance would have it, his place ended up being literally right next door to me. He had been housesitting for a friend there. We met in June and were married in November. Tragically he died six years later of an aneurism. But in that short time we had three beautiful sons. I’ve been widowed for 33 years now. Of course I’ve moved on raising my kids, working, etc, etc. But grief comes at unexpected times. It’s not linear. Dan was my 2nd husband and the love of my life. I had gone through an abusive relationship with my 1st. I guess by the second time around it doesn’t take long to know when you’ve met the right person. It seems to me that you and I have a lot in common. One of the many reasons I connect with you so much. Thanks for sharing your story.
Lovely result with a sad beginning
Congratulations! I am happy for you and Bill for having experienced those years of love, and I wish y’all many more healthy, happy ones.
David
June 21. What an auspicious date.
As you wrote, it’s Father’s Day this year (and the final day of the U.S. Open golf championship). Nominally the beginning of astronomical summer. Generally the longest day in the northern hemisphere. Barbara and I decided to marry while standing on a since-demolished bridge over a lake at her alma mater, Saint Mary-of-the-Woods College. And the date, in 1914, when my father took his first breath on this planet.
I’ll have to check my copy and see if the cover is brown–I don’t think it, however, is.
This will be our families first Father’s Day without my husband. And, we would have “celebrated” our 60th wedding anniversary on June 17. Our son and his family were present and will be for Father’s Day but my daughter says she just can’t “celebrate” either one this year. I was and will be present as I don’t want to be by myself.
Love your blogs.
Best first date ever. That is very nice
Great blog as usual, love the reminder of how y’all met! I have the kindle version of after the fire now.
I became friends with Diane through WICS back in the early 1980’s. I went through the group therapy twice as the first time I was still in shock. My second husband, Al, died suddenly, at work, no prior medical problems, a sober alcoholic through our 13 years of marriage at the age of 62. That group saved my sanity, and I ended up doing some co facilitating later. Kept in touch with Diane for many years. Later I took a 80 hour course, non-denominational, to become a Stephen Minister with my goal of assisting others through the grief process. It has been rewarding in many ways. Made the mistake of marrying a practicing alcoholic that kept it well hidden until the ring was on my finger, then turned into a verbal abuser. So, now I am blessed in my aging years with a terrific guy and a stronger faith. One can eventually find peace if they keep on keeping on, even after several let downs. Your books (especially Beaumont as I’m a native Seattleite and can visualize wherever he is in his adventures) have helped take me away from reality in a good way over the years, as I can’t put them down until all done. Thank you for your blog and sharing yourself with us fans.
My first husband, my first love, father of my daughter has only days to live. Cancer is taking him. I was surprised at how much grief I was feeling. I searched in line for help and found the term Disenfranchised grief. It’s a grief that no one thinks you should have. Divorced for 40 years but still shared a daughter. I never fully recovered from the loss of our marriage. But the grief is real and should be recognized.
I love that story. Happy first date anniversary and Happy Fathers Day to Bill. I feel you were destined to be together and I’m so happy you found eachother. I have read After the Fire and it was very powerful and very helpful to me.
Oops, this one almost missed me, but I’m glad I caught it!
You and Bill were meant to be together. Just so you know, I am very frugal with offerings of this magnitude. So it must be true. ?
Happy Father’s Day to all dads everywhere. And
Best Wishes to you and Bill, JA. <3
I so enjoy your blog. Until I happen to send you a note one day letting you know of all the books of yours that I’ve read and so far I think I’ve caught almost all of them at least for Joanna Brady and JP Beaumont, there was one I could not finish. You told me that it was going to end OK and I trusted you and now I read your blog every week and I absolutely love it. I’m going on a cruise and I was looking for a book to read so I was looking through all of your books trying to find one available for borrowing that I hadn’t read yet and I have found an old Joanna Brady one, shoot don’t shoot, and I believe that’s going on the cruise to Alaska with me. Thank you again.
Annie