It has been a month since Tom died. Exactly a month. I have moved through that month with a foggy brain and at the same time learning how to do things that I have never done before: visit the accountant for the taxes. I said to him, "This is what I want--I want you to fictionalize my tax return and I will pay you money." It turned out he didn't have to fictionalize anything, because our lives were in his computer already. I was out of there in 20 minutes. I paid him, of course, but not nearly what he was worth to me.
I had to have the oil changed in my car. Never have had to do that. I was like a queen bee sitting on my marital throne. They laughed at my Fiat 500. One of the guys came into the waiting room and I asked, "Why were you laughing at my car?" He replied that they hadn't been laughing at the car but at themselves. One out of four of these guys knew how to drive a stick shift. Ha.
I have to to deal with robots on the phone and listen to gaggy music while I wait for a human being to help me. I hate these phone calls. I'd rather go in person than deal with robots. But guess what? No one works in the office anymore. They work from home on their computers.
The guy at the bank was lovely to me. So was Cynthia from DMBA.
Tonight, I rummaged in Tom's closet and found an unopened box: an Intex Challenger I blowup kayak with one seat in it. For fishing on a lake, I thought. He bought a blow up boat. Maybe it will flood in downtown Salt Lake this year, and I'll blow that thing up and paddle down Main Street. Tom would like that.
I've been following you since the Apron Stage (and used to have my English 115 students read an essay by you) but we've never met and you have no idea who I am. But even so, I wanted you to know that I'm so sorry to hear about Tom. I wasn't expecting this post, and I gasped when I began reading (and, rather perversely, hoped it was some sick joke?). If I can be so sad about someone I never knew and only knew about from your blog, I can't imagine the depth of your sorrows.
ReplyDeleteI too, have been following you since the Apron Stage. I searched you and Tom and found out all kinds of delightful things about you and your lovely family. I became Facebook friends with Tom and your granddaughter A., just to keep you all in closer orbit. You and your family are wonderful people.
ReplyDeleteTom became an editor-ish for my book, and I bought a copy of his colorful chicken painting. His painting is in a point of pride place, it hangs in our guest room for our visitors to stare at before they sleep.
I am sorry Tom has moved on. He is missed.
Another longtime follower here, also so saddened to read this news. I always enjoyed reading about Tom; he seemed to have a true zest for life.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry for your loss.
Rest well, Tom.
Another very long-time fan here (I read The Unlikely Romance of Kate Bjorkman every Christmas until I was married, as a student teacher had my junior high students list everything they had in their backpacks like in Thoughts of a Grasshopper). Also, I took Memoir and Imagination from Tom in the Fall of 2005 and learned how to both write and live better from him. On one occasion, I had written an essay that was self-pitying like an insecure 19 year old can be, something like--"I've lost my chance--I will never amount to anything," and Tom wrote in all capital letters, "Of Course you Can!" And I still think about it often, when I have to keep trying to make things happen. Of course I can! So, I was very sad when I heard that he passed, and I shared with my family the blog post that he wrote on The Apron Stage about woo-ing you after a trip you took to show what them what delightful person he is. Though we only met once briefly, I have learned so much from you and your husband, and I hope that you may find comfort and strength and things that help you feel better, even if writing doesn't.
ReplyDeleteLast Thursday, I hosted book club in my small home. I purchased fresh flowers for the table, and when my well-meaning friend promptly removed them to the counter to see, I was immediately incensed. And then I chuckled when I thought of you. Louise, as my password hints will testify, you were my favorite professor at the Y. You brought such a joy to creative writing and made a tall, awkward teenager feel seen. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteWhen I read your news, I was so shocked and saddened. I can't get over it. I want you to know that you are in my heart and prayers.
Much love, Sherrie Cook Markman
I'm saddened by this news. I've also followed you since The Apron Stage days. I have loved logging on and seeing your posts. This one took my breath away. I'm very sorry for the loss of your love. Sending light and love to you and your family. Melody
ReplyDelete