Ricochet is the best place on the internet to discuss the issues of the day, either through commenting on posts or writing your own for our active and dynamic community in a fully moderated environment. In addition, the Ricochet Audio Network offers over 50 original podcasts with new episodes released every day.
Her Name Was Janet
Janet Lardas. You knew her as Quilter.
She died yesterday. Cancer claimed her after a three-year fight.
She was my wife. She was also my closest friend, my lover, my confidant, my biggest cheerleader, and my most trusted advisor.
I loved her. Very much.
Now she is gone. I am bereft. I will miss her terribly.
We were married for over forty years. Over that time we had three sons and watched them grow into productive adults. We built a home together. With her support I built a career. She made things – everything from quilts to furniture.
Her guidance saved me from disaster on several occasions. She pulled me back to earth when my dreams went too high, but let me follow them when they were not folly. She understood the difference.
She was absolutely fearless, except for one thing. She was afraid of being noticed. I don’t know why, but she was. When we joined Ricochet we originally used our real names. That was okay because Ricochet was a forum behind a paywall. Then she saw our names turn up on a web search and asked me to use a handle. She suggested the names. I became Seawriter and she became Quilter. Then at her request Seawriter and Quilter became just Seawriter.
I tried to talk her into commenting. That was the reason I ended all my comments with Seawriter. When she commented she would end hers with Quilter. But she never commented. She did not want to be noticed. (I guess I can skip the Seawriter from now on.)
We met when she was fourteen and I was seventeen. We married when she was nineteen and I was twenty-one. We had a choice of wedding dates: the last weekend in April or the first in May. We married in May because that date was after her nineteenth birthday and her mother did not want her daughter to get married at eighteen.
They say May marriages are unlucky. They say marriages made when you are in your teens don’t last. They were right. Right on both counts. This marriage was far shorter than it should have been. We should have grown old together, but we got unlucky.
If you are married, do me a favor. Today give your spouse a hug, a kiss, and tell them you love them. For no particular reason – just because. You will never regret having done that. After you no longer can, you will regret every opportunity you passed up doing so. That hour might arrive sooner than you think.
I do not know what the future holds for me. If I avoid bad luck (or perhaps if I am unlucky enough – today I cannot decide) I could easily live another thirty years. My dad is in his nineties, and still going strong. My grandparents all reached their late eighties. But it will be a life without her.
Whatever the future holds I know this: there will always be a Janet-shaped hole in my heart.
Published in General
My sincerest condolences. May God comfort you and your family in the coming days.
I cannot imagine your grief. Prayers for you and your peace. I am married to my college sweetheart. She is my everything. God be with you.
So sorry to read this, Seawriter. My condolences to you and your family. You should continue to sign off with Seawriter as kind of a tribute to Quilter.
You are in my prayers. I am so sorry you have experienced this devastating loss – words fail me.
Oh, Seawriter! Like everyone else, I was crying from your very first words . I pray for your peace and comfort.
I’m sorry for your loss, you have my deepest condolences.
Gloria and I send our deepest condolences. Our prayers are with you and yours.
Dear Seawriter,
May you be comforted. What a beautiful tribute to what sounds like an amazing woman. It appears from the comments thus far–many of them eloquent beyond my ability–that you are mourning with company and supporters around the world.
There is nothing more delightful in life than the right mate. But the loss…devastating. There really aren’t words to help or even to express (though you did Janet due justice). Surely you are being thought of and prayed for by the whole Ricochet family. Don’t worry about getting back to us; just know that we’re there, quietly, in the background.
So sorry for your loss, Seawriter. Words fail.
Of course I know who you are and have enjoyed reading your posts. I don’t recall seeing Quilter on here much so I guess she succeeded in not being noticed much, at least by me. I always wondered why you signed your comments.
My wife taught me this so now we do it often. Sound advice.
You are surrounded in love and prayer by your Ricochet Family. We all grieve with you.
I am so very sorry for your loss. Three years ago I lost my best friend and husband of 48 years. Although I still miss him every single day, the initial sharp pain of his loss has become a dull ache over time making life a bit easier to bear without him. Trust me when I tell you that you will find comfort in your sons as they are a living testament to her life.
Cancer is a despicable, dirty, evil, rotten, [CoC] thief!
Celebrate and remember your JOYS with your dear Janet as you tread through the grief. Bless you and your sons and all of Janet’s family and friends. Peace and comfort to you.
That was a beautiful tribute and I’m just very sorry for your loss. May time ease the grief and leave you only the memories.
I’m so sorry, Seawriter. Thank you for telling us about Janet.
Seawriter, I am so sorry for your loss.
Thank you for sharing this with us, including us. Means a lot.
And now we can share your grief.
Condolences, my friend.
I am so sorry you lost the love of your life. She will be waiting for you when you are ready. May you soon find peace and comfort.
So sorry to hear of your loss. May you receive all the prayers, blessings and support you need as you honor what has been and grieve what has been lost.
A word of hope for your future days: my dear beloved died (also cancer, a four-year battle) 11 years ago, just a month short of our having been together 39 years. The loss was devastating, and our dreams for our later years never came to fruition; yet the new reality gradually led to a deeper connection with our child, my one remaining sibling, and also opened my life to many others who’d never have come our way. So, I wish for you hope, and I am confident that a day will come when the sunshine will again warm you as you recall your precious time together, and rejoice.
All my sympathy and prayers for your loss.
Too short indeed, my condolences.
So sorry for your loss, Seawriter. My prayers are with you and your family.
You have my heartfelt condolences, Seawriter, but I know that those are cold comfort indeed at this point. I pray for you and your sons, that the bitter sting of loss will fade, even as the memories of Janet grow sweeter and sharper with the years.
I write with tears after reading your wonderful tribute and all the kind responses. I have nothing profound to offer, just our condolences, thank you for sharing, and best wishes to you and your sons. I will strive to follow your advice.
“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.”
― Edna St. Vincent Millay
“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”
― Robert Frost
My God’s peace be with you and may your Janet rest in peace.
As your loss is, quite simply, incomprehensible to me, as I cannot even imagine the anguish you must be in, all I can say is that I send our prayers for you and yours at this time of such deep pain. I also echo those who have related their feelings in terms of their marriages, as that is certainly our case as well.
“Rest eternal to her, O Lord:
And let light perpetual shine upon her.”
Our prayers are with you.
Sincerely, Jim
Rest in peace. My prayers for Janet and the repose of her soul. My prayers for you that He may bring surcease to your anguish.
Please don’t. Continuing the practice would be a great but subtle and indirect in memoriam to the lady that didn’t want to be noticed.
I suspect a Janet-sized hole is bigger than the Grand Canyon, but a good Quilter can repair even that with enough time and love to work…. (That second thing doesn’t disappear, you see. Love is eternal, as is your wife’s spirit and your memory.)
I’m so very sorry.
She didn’t want to be noticed, but look how many people your beautiful bride has touched here. She will live through your sons, the home she built, and your extraordinary love, which will never die. So many prayers. Especially mine.
My condolences, Seawriter.