Widowish: A Memoir(27)

As a writer and entrepreneur, I was underqualified and overqualified for most jobs. I had no experience in the retail or service industry, and yet I didn’t have the right kind of skills for an office job. Trying to get a writing job outside of TV and film was also challenging. I spoke screenwriting fluently, but I wasn’t up to speed on writing content for online platforms, where a background in marketing was a qualification I didn’t have or even understand. Not only were my options limited, but I wanted to be available for Sophie as much as possible. I wanted to take her to school, and I wanted to be there when she came home, have dinner together, help with homework (if she would let me).

Joel had been the co-owner of a small music marketing company. His friend Ben was the other owner but was a silent partner who left Joel to run the day-to-day operations. Joel had two other full-time employees working underneath him.

I remember calling Ben early one morning while Joel was still at the first hospital.

“I think we’re going to transfer him,” I said. “His doctors think there’s a better chance at recovery if we get him to his MS doctors.”

“OK.” Ben considered. “Well, I’m pretty sure the crew at the office can handle things this week until Joel gets back.”

Tears poured out of my eyes. I shook my head. How can I convey what I need to?

“Ben,” I said. “I don’t think you understand. I don’t know when Joel will be back. I don’t know if he’ll be back. Whatever this is, it’s serious.”

“OK.” I could hear Ben’s mind spinning through the phone. He took a breath and said, “Let’s think positive. If anyone is determined to bounce back after a setback like this, it’s Joel.”

Ben, like everyone else, couldn’t grasp the gravity of the situation. It was too surreal. Ben and Joel had known each other from the music industry long before they went into business together. Joel had been the best man at Ben’s wedding.

With Joel now gone, Ben and I had to discuss the future of their business. With Ben’s time being spent on his other professional endeavors, could the company continue without Joel? Because the music industry had changed so much since they started the company, their once robust enterprise was now earning half of what it used to. Closing shop would mean Joel’s two employees—his close friends—would be out of a job.

After much consideration, we decided to keep the business going. In large part this was to ensure that I could receive a stipend that would allow me to be as present in Sophie’s life as I wanted to be. It was the move of a true mensch, and provided me with a financial cushion that gave me room to breathe. Joel’s friends were determined to sustain the business, not just for their own benefit but for mine and Sophie’s as well. It was Joel’s legacy.

Still, I put a tremendous amount of pressure on myself to continue living my life without Joel. He liked that I was a strong and independent woman. But his love and support are where I got so much of my strength from.

“Hun,” Joel said one night. “I have an idea.”

He had just arrived home from work and was planning to walk the dogs. Meanwhile, I was staring into the fridge, stressed out. I had no idea what to make for dinner.

“So do I. Why don’t you do the cooking every night?” I was angry. I hated cooking. I made the same three things until we got sick of it. I’d find something new but Sophie wouldn’t want to eat it, Joel was always trying to eat healthier, and I couldn’t reconcile our different preferences. Cooking took time and effort, and it was always met with some disappointment.

“I can’t take it!” I said.

“Here’s my idea. I know you’re going to hate it, but hear me out.”

I started to make a frozen pizza. “Sorry. It’s the best I can do,” I said as I put it in the oven.

He put his hands on my shoulders. “Breathe,” Joel said.

“What’s your idea?”

“Let’s do something like Taco Tuesdays or Pasta Thursdays? Maybe Salmon Sundays every week. We can plan meals so you don’t get so stressed out about dinner all the time.”

“Salmon Sundays?” I smirked.

“I think a schedule will take some of the pressure off of you. Believe me, if we could afford to hire a personal chef, I would. Mostly for you.”

I was good at being a wife and mother. I loved our little family. I just couldn’t stand the cooking part. I sighed and pulled Joel into a hug.

“You’re delicious,” I told him. “I should make you for dinner every night.”

“Trust me,” Joel said. “Taco Tuesday will make life easier. For all of us.”

If I could barely manage dinner without him, how was I going to do anything?

And more importantly, how was I supposed to raise Sophie on my own? I worried over my ability to give her the skills to be a well-adjusted, happy, and successful person. How was I going to be the one to guide her in choosing the right friends, the right kind of life partner, the right profession? Where was the guarantee that she would be able to function in the world and be fulfilled, productive, and again, happy?

I was left with this precious being, who had lost the most important male figure of her entire life, who made her feel loved and special and important. And he was gone.

Sophie was an only child. I was now an only parent.