May 5th
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May 5, 2004 was a Wednesday. It was quite possibly, the longest day in my life. It was certainly one of the worst. I hope you'll read about it here
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I'm struggling on the memory front tonight. I have so many, but they all feel blurred together. I'm scared that I'm losing my memories of him. Instead of a memory, I think I'll write a letter to him. Please, if you have a memory, will you share it? Please?

Dear Joe,
You used to have the most amazing voice. It was so deep. Al never met you but she spoke to you on the phone a few times and used to call you Mr. Sexy. You had what I called a radio voice. You were meant to be on the radio. Not only did you have a great voice but you were a great commentator. You were quick, and witty, and super funny. I miss your voice. I have it saved in two places. Our old answering machine, and one scene of video. I haven't played either since you died. I'm afraid of how I'll react upon hearing your voice. Sometimes I hear it in my dreams, but it's not your old voice. It's a scared voice; the voice you had in the hospital. I hate that your voice was taken from you. I hate that I never got to hear it those final days.

Do you remember when we went for pre-marital counseling? The whole time the rabbi was talking to us, and asking us questions, you were pacing the room. You never sat next to me, never held my hand. You were a wreck. I was sure the rabbi would say that she wouldn't marry us. But despite your pacing, you gave really good answers about me. When asked why you wanted to marry me, you told the rabbi that you knew I would be a great mother to our future kids. You told her that I was a good cook, and that you loved being around me. She married us despite your pacing. My sister has said that you walked down the aisle with the biggest grin that she had ever seen. You were that happy. The rabbi officiated your funeral as well. She shared the story of our pre-marital counseling, but in her version we were sitting snuggled together on her couch. I like the real version more. It's more you.

Do you remember the day I miscarried? Strangely enough we had discovered that I was pregnant on May 6, 2002. We were so excited and told everyone we knew. At the end of June I had heavy bleeding, and we both knew something bad had happened. We came home from the hospital that night and lay in bed together and watched a marathon of House Hunters. We snuggled, and cried, and planned to plant a rose bush in honor of the baby that wasn't, and in between we debated which house would be picked. 13 months later Jacob entered the world, and the year after that you were dead. When Jacob was born I remember us saying, "If only we had known a year ago when we were so sad that we'd have this amazing baby a year later." And then when you died I kept thinking, if only we had known when Jacob was born that a year later you'd be gone....

You came to me last night in my dreams, Joe. It wasn't a good dream. I ended up crying all night. Send me good dreams tonight, ok? Four years ago tonight was our last night together. I know you knew that I was there with you. Tomorrow I will go to work and the boys will go to school, and then we will come visit you at the cemetery. Joshua had an interesting theory of how the rocks that we leave at the cemetery get to you. He said that storks pick them up, and fly them up to heaven. Jacob quickly corrected him by saying, "Actually, aliens come down and fly in their spaceships up to heaven, right mommy?" You sons are so ridiculously cute, Joe. I hope you know that. I hope you are still watching us. I hope.

Tomorrow will likely be bad. But that's ok. We will get through it like always. I will cry and share memories with those that will listen. We haven't forgotten you Joe. You have not been forgotten.
love,
b

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May 4th

May 4, 2004 fell on a Tuesday. It was the first time I saw Joe since he was hospitalized on Saturday. It was a bad day. To read about it, (and who wouldn't want to read about it after that lead up! :O) ) click here.

May 30, 1997

During my 8 year courtship with Joe, we broke up twice. The first time was the summer before his senior year of college, and my sophomore year of college. It lasted for about 3 weeks. The second time was when I was a senior in college and he was out in the real world.

I had been pressuring Joe for a ring (hmm, I am noticing a pattern.) During Christmas break Joe told me through tears that we needed to break up. He was worried that we had been together so long that maybe we were only together because it felt safe and comfortable. He was worried that we would get engaged and married and then realize that it was a mistake.

To say I was heartbroken would be an understatement. I felt like my world had fallen apart. I cried for days and days, and then I decided to stop feeling sad, and live a little. I figured if Joe and I were destined to be together we would be together.

I moved in with my friend Suzy who was going through a divorce, and we nicknamed our house the "judge me not house." Many mornings we would look at each other and say, "Judge me not." I was having a blast, and was greatly enjoying my freedom as a single woman.

I have no idea what Joe was doing during this time. We never discussed it later. I assume that he was out there dating/sleeping around a bit. This was our chance, and I like to think that we both took advantage of it.

Two months after we broke up we saw each other for the first time. When we broke up, we set the date, and agreed not to speak during the time in between.

I remember nervously pulling up to his townhouse the cold February morning. I was wearing a super short dress from Express (I had gotten very skinny after the break up, and had to flaunt it.) and I remember Joe looking me up and down as I walked towards him.

We hugged hello, and it felt like I had come home. Being single was fun and exciting, but Joe was my home. You know how when you go on vacation it's great, but getting home afterwards feels even better? That's what it was like.

We spent the day together, which led to spending the night together, which led to the day , which led to the night....You get the idea. We both knew. This was it. We were meant to be together.

Once we announced that we were officially back together (although I don't know if Joe told anyone that we had ever broken up. Brett? I know his family never knew.) it was clear that we would be getting engaged. Joe knew that I wanted to be engaged before I graduated college, because I knew I would never see most of my classmates again, and I wanted them to know that I would be marrying Joe.

Two days before graduation was a beautiful Sunday. Joe asked me if I wanted to go to the Swan Boats, one of our favorite spots when we first started dating. We arrived to find a very long line of families waiting to ride. There is little that bothers me more than waiting in a long line, so I told Joe that we should do something else, but he said he was going to talk to the people that run the boats.

He came back and told me that he inquired about us being extras in a movie that was being filmed at the Public Gardens, and that they were contacting the movie producers. He said we might as well wait in line, because we needed to wait to hear the answer anyways.

When we got to the front of the line the workers said that the movie didn't need any extras but that we could board the swan boats for free. We got on, and despite the line being super long, our swan was almost empty. There was no one in the two rows in front of us, and no one behind us. I remember thinking that it was odd.

Halfway through the boat ride Joe dropped his camera onto the floor of the boat. He got down to pick up the camera, and stayed down on one knee.

"Elizabeth Ellen S...., will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?" Joe pulled a ring box out of his pocket and presented me with a perfect round diamond. He handed his camera to the people in the front of the boat and they took pictures of us.

Even though I knew it was coming, it still managed to surprise me.

Of course I said yes, and was able to show everyone at graduation that I was engaged. (Engaged at 22, what was I thinking????)

One year later we were married.

Today I feel so freaking homesick.

-b

May 3rd
I just sobbed in temple after standing for the Mourner's kaddish (a prayer you say at anniversaries.) I had to walk out and go into the bathroom. The Rabbi's wife followed me and talked to me until I was calm enough to return. Very sweet. I can't believe how grief just takes over me. I miss him so much right now. It feels like it was yesterday, not four years ago. To read about May 3, 2004, click here. To read more about Joe alive and well, read on.

On September 26, 1995 Joe and I attended the Bruins game at the Boston Garden. It was the last even to be held at the Garden, as a new building had already been built in its place, and it was to be torn down the following week.

I was glad to see the new building, but Joe had a love for the old Garden and was sad that it's time had come to an end. He wanted to keep a piece of it with him always.

So he brought a saw with him to the game. Yes, you read that correctly, Joe carried a saw with him into the Bruins game. (Can you imagine this happening post 9/11? Would never be possible. But back in 1995, there were no body searches walking into a stadium, and so Joe kept the saw tucked into his jacket.)

We sat down in our seats and the game began. Every time the Bruins scored, or were close to scoring, everyone would stand up and cheer them on. Joe took those opportunities to saw the back of his seat. The first time he did it he got quite a few stares, but by the fifth or sixth time nobody paid any attention.

The whole row of seats would shake every time he would saw away, and I was worried Joe would be arrested if anyone turned him in. I kept yelling, "You'll get arrested! Stop!" And Joe would reply, "It'll be worth it!"

By the end of the game Joe had successfully sawed the back of his chair. (You know the part with the number on it?) Our whole row cheered for Joe, and I took his picture with the back of the chair in his hands.

We later framed the chair, along with the ticket, a picture of Joe holding the seat, a poster, and a special puck they gave out that night. We still have it hanging up in the playroom.

When I look at the framed "art" I always smile. It pretty much sums Joe up. He never did things half-assed. It was all or nothing in his world. That was how he lived, that was how he died.

-b

May 2nd

To continue reading Joe's hospitalization story click here. I hope it's getting read, but I am liking posting memories of Joe this week. It's kind of strange to me that so many of you never knew Joe. I feel like everyone knew Joe. That's the kind of personality he had. Everyone knew him.

Pregnant with Joshua
(I looked through the archives to see if I had posted this story before. I felt like I had, but I couldn't find it. I apologize if you have read it before.)

When Jacob was four months old, we conceived Joshua. It was not a planned pregnancy by any stretch of the imagination. We were planning on spacing our kids a couple of years apart. We were watching a Red Sox game on our porch, Jacob was napping in his room, it was a commercial break, Joe and I looked at each other, decided to seize the moment, ran upstairs, and were back down for the bottom of the inning.

I was still nursing exclusively, and had not yet gotten my period (sorry Brett, Patrick, and Owen. I think you're the only guys that read this...) The likelihood of me getting pregnant seemed slim, and we did nothing to protect against it. But we both knew we were taking a risk that afternoon.

About a month later I was taking a walk with my neighbor, Chris, and our boys. I mentioned to her that I hadn't been feeling great, that I had been a little nauseous, and was throwing up a few times a day. "It feels almost like I'm pregnant," I said.

Chris looked at me wide eyed and insisted that I buy a pregnancy test from Walgreens. I told her I was sure that I wasn't pregnant, but I would buy one just too be positive.

We got to my house and Chris waited outside with the boys while I ran upstairs to the bathroom. You know how some tests take a few minutes to get the two lines? Well this one turned immediately. Two dark lines staring at me in the face.

I ran downstairs and showed Chris but was convinced that the test was faulty. I drank 3 quick glasses of water and ran upstairs to take test number two. Two more immediate dark lines.

I was undeniably pregnant.

I called Mel on the phone and told her to come over immediately. She thought something was wrong with Jacob and rushed over. She found me sitting in the corner of my living room, two positive tests sitting on the couch. She tried not to laugh at my misfortune but had great difficulty because I had been giving her a very hard time for purposely getting pregnant with #2 when #1 was only 6 months. And here I had beaten her crazy record by 2 months.

At this point I was having a bit of a breakdown. Me, having a breakdown? Impossible! My biggest concern was telling Joe. How in the world was I going to tell him that I was pregnant again? I was sure he would turn around, get in his car, go to a bar and get drunk. I knew that it took the two of us to get in the mess we were in, but I expected him to blame me.

Melanie took off before Joe got home, and I began pacing the house. I was trying every technique I knew of to calm myself down, but nothing was working.

Joe's car pulled in the driveway and I sat at the dining room table, tetst held tightly in my hand,

Joe took one look at me and knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Something really terrible happened," I answered.

"Are you pregnant?" he guessed. (I still don't know how he guessed it so quickly.)

"Yes."

"That's not terrible," Joe responded.

"It's not?"

"No! It's great, actually."

"It's great?"

"Yes. It's great. Who knows, b, maybe in two years you wouldn't be able to get pregnant. Maybe I wouldn't be able to get you pregnant. You never know what will happen in the future."

Neither of us could possibly imaging how true his words were. Neither of us could have possibly predicted that Joe wouldn't be alive that summer when Joshua was born. But whenever someone asks me if Joshua was planned or an accident (and believe me, people ask that all the time!) I say that he was a planned accident. Joe and I may not have planned him, but something bigger than us did. (I'm not getting all religious on you, but I do believe in fate.)

Joe was thrilled to be having a second son, and never once called him an accident. He was proud of his super sperm that beat the odds at getting me pregnant at a time when we didn't think it was at all likely. He told all of his friends that we were expecting again, and never once showed any doubt that it was a good idea.

Joe was a great dad. One of the saddest things about him dying four years ago was that he never got to meet his second son.

-b

Brett's (BCA's) story for the day
(mine will be posted later along with a link for today)

One day during high school times/age, Joe and I went down to the market near my house to buy some food to cook on the grill for that weekend. My mom was never a (good) cook, but his mom made her look like Rachel Ray, so he ate at my house quite a bit.

I was driving my mom's 5 speed Audi GT Coupe, a truly hideous car that had red leather interior (sad, I know), and as I parked the car on the side of the grocery store and we got out, we noticed that the car I parked next to (which was unlocked and with open windows) had a barrel keg in it's back seat.

Joe's eyes lit up the way only people who knew him know that they could. I talked him off the ledge and we went into the store to shop for grillables. We were in there for at least 30 mins, a reasonable enough time for the owner of the car to have come and gone, taking their keg with them. But when we came out, the car was still there.

Joe reached in and shook the keg, "It's full!" or something like that, he said. And so in a moment that will forever be blurry in my memory, in approximately 15 seconds time, Joe and I, weighing in total probably no more than 275 pounds ourselves, lifted this over 200 pound and awkward to carry full-barrel keg of beer out of this person's backseat and into the trunk of my mother's car. It didn't even really fit, so we had to push and wedge it down into the small sized trunk.

And then we were gone.

We took it back to my house for our newly planned weekend festivities. I called another group of friends to join us, who I knew had a pony pump we needed to extract the beer from it's aluminum jail.

And while I don't remember his exact words, Joe said something to the likes of, "we can charge everyone $10 per cup." I squashed that one as fast as he uttered it and we all had a grand time that weekend. Oh, and we also got the $50 "back" for returning the empty keg on Monday after school.

May 1st

Four years ago today Joe entered the hospital never to return home again. To read a detailed account of that day, click here. Now for a memory of the day.

Owen's post below got me thinking back to my high school days with Joe. We began dating when I was 15, and he was 17. he had a car, but lived an hour away. Typically he would come visit me on Saturday mornings, and spend the day, but within 6 months or so of dating he started spending entire weekends with me. In the beginning my mom made him sleep downstairs, but soon gave up and let him sleep in my room.

My first year of dating Joe I was a bit of an emotional mess. I had a lot going on in my family, and I hate to complain about it because many others went through similar upsets in their families, but I just took it very hard.

Owen mentioned in his entry that my mom was hardly ever around, and I think that's a pretty accurate account. She wasn't neglectful or anything. She was just busy living her life, and kind of left me to live mine.

Joe was my rock. Even at 17 he was my rock. I would call him in the middle of the night sobbing, and he would drive an hour to be with me. I would fall apart on a date, and he would just hold me in his arms. He was very protective of me, and tried his best to help me through my emotional upsets. (Again, nothing crazy, just family upheaval that many others faced.)

One morning I had a fight with my mother. I don't remember what it was about, but it was big. I called Joe from school all upset. Within an hour he was at my school (He was a senior and was already done for the year. It must have been early June.) He waited for me to finish my classes then we got in his car. I asked him where we were going, and he wouldn't tell me.

We drove north to New Hampshire and ended up at Canobie Lake Park, a local amusement park. He led me to the biggest roller coaster there, and he told me that my life was like a roller coaster right now, with lots of huge highs, and lots of low lows. He promised me that he would ride them out with me, the highs and the lows.

We got on the roller coaster and held hands tightly as it went up and down, up and down. "I'm with you, Betsy," he said each time it reached the top and we were waiting for the descent. "I'm with you."

And he was. He stuck with me through some really hard times. He was a good man, even at 17.

-b

Owen's memory of Joe
Thank you for posting Owen!

Owen said...

My story about Joe (per your request - but it is somewhat long so feel free to remove it): The first time I met Joe was in your old house. It was a few weeks after you had started dating. For some reason, one of the first things you did together was buy a tremendously huge stereo. You were 15 or something and you and your new boyfriend had just bought a tremendously huge stereo together.

Anyway, I walked into your house (it was a summer day, and that whole summer it seemed like you owned the house because I never once caught a glimpse of your mother). You and Joe were sitting on the couch in the living room, toying with the gigantic remote for your tremendously huge stereo.

You seemed like a middle aged couple; you had a giant house all to yourself, a giant stereo with a huge remote control, and you were teenagers. You introduced me to Joe, and he immediately starting showing me all the functionality of his gigantic remote control.

Someone else might have done this and it would have come across as boring and as small talk. But with Joe, it wasn't boring and it wasn't small talk. It was him being very excited about his remote control and feeling totally comfortable sharing his excitement with me, his new friend. He was a very very easy guy to become friends with.

(my memory for today will be posted later today. -b)

April 30th

Tonight marks the four year anniversary of the last night Joe and I spent together at home. The last night I lay in his arms. The last night we had a normal conversation. To read more about that night click here.

If you read the story, please leave a comment on this post.

I have decided to share links to Joe's story each night, as well as share stories of life with Joe each night. If you knew Joe, please post a story in the comment section, or in an email to me. I will add them to the main posts. Please help me celebrate Joe's life, as well as remember the tragic way he died. He deserves it.

My Wife Is A Dirty Bird
(Story suggested by my sister)

On a rainy Friday afternoon in September, 2000, Joe and I headed to Logan Airport. We were flying to Detroit to visit friends. We were excited that we were not only seeing them, but we were going to see the Red Sox play against the Tigers.

When we arrived at the airport we checked the boarding sign and read that our flight was cancelled. Not delayed, cancelled. We went up to the check in person and inquired about our flight. Due to weather elsewhere, the plane we were supposed to take was unable to get into Boston. They put us on a new flight scheduled to leave five hours later.

We were frustrated but decided to make the best out of the situation. We headed over to the Northwest Business Club. Joe walked up to the counter in his jeans and baseball hat and informed the woman working that due to our cancelled flight, we wanted to relax in the lounge while we waited five hours. The woman looked Joe up and down, and concealed a laugh.

"The lounge is for members only, sir."
"Okay, how can I join?" Joe asked, not batting an eye.
"It's a $250 annual charge." (I don't really remember the cost, but it was something like that)
"It's open bar, correct?" Joe inquired.
"Yes. It's a self service open bar," the lady responded.
"All the better," Joe said, as he handed her his credit card.

Joe then proceeded to drink $250 worth of alcohol while we waited to board our plane. He insisted that it was like an all you can eat buffet. he had to get his money's worth.

For five hours I sat in the fancy lounge filled with businessmen waiting to go home, watching my husband get more and more drunk. Those that knew Joe, know that he was not a quiet drunk. He started to sing, and to flip his baseball cap high in the air. I was getting nervous that we wouldn't be allowed to board the plane.

Joe excused himself, and I assumed he was going to the bathroom. He came back a few minutes later with a giant stuffed bear with Northwest gear on him.

"This is for you, baby," Joe slurred. "You're my little teddy bear, and you looked nervous so I had to buy this for you."

Just then then called our flight. Filled with relief I pulled Joe up, and started walking us to the door. That's when the yelling started.

"MY WIFE IS A DIRTY BIRD!"

I looked over at Joe in horror. He screamed it again, "My wife is a dirty bird!"

"Joe!" "They are not going to let us on the plane! Stop!" I begged.

"My wife is a dirty bird," he whispered, grinning ear to ear.

We boarded the plane and I managed to get Joe settled in next to me. The smell of alcohol permeated the air, and I knew it was all due to Joe.

"Just so everyone knows, my wife is a dirty bird!" Joe yelled one more time. Then he put his arms around me, laid his head on my shoulder and promptly fell fast asleep. Somehow he managed to wake up in Detroit completely sober.

I'm not even sure where he got the dirty bird thing, but he laughed every time I shared the story with him. He of course had no recollection of any of it, but my proof to him that he was drunker than drunk was when his credit card showed that he paid $300 for a stupid stuffed bear.

-b