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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.
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I add my condolences. It was much too short of a time to share your lives together. God bless you, and your family, and I hope that you will feel His comforting love.
Not much I can write to add to such a heart felt post. The two of you were fortunate to find each other.
Hugs and prayers for you, @seawriter. I am so sorry for your loss.
@gldiii, if you and your wife have the means to “bow out” soon and enjoy each other’s company, please take my advice, and do so when you can. You won’t regret it.
I’m so sorry.
Your wife and I were on my prayer list for a couple of years. You will remain.
I wish I knew something that helped more than saying that does. But I know Someone who does know. I’ll talk to Him about it.
Finally a little time to respond.
First, please add one like from me to each comment. I read every one. At this point I don’t have the energy or time to thank each one of you individually.
Please know her memory is a blessing to me. I am deeply, deeply saddened by her departure, but I am not prostrate. She died peacefully surrounded by those who love her. I am also secure in the knowledge she is with God and at peace. The series of events that allowed me to care for her in home hospice were so improbable I cannot believe they are coincidence. Rather I take it as evidence of a subtle and benevolent creator (with a truly wicked sense of humor). He exists, which means she is with Him.
I also feel at peace. One of her greatest fears was that she would die alone, unloved, and forgotten. It was not a rational fear, but few fears are. Which means for the last six months I have lived with my own fear: the terror that I would fail her. It would have been so easy to walk away. It was so difficult to take care of her. I have been fighting that fear of failure the whole time, especially as my task grew increasingly difficult. Maybe my fear was not rational – but it was there the whole time. The good news is, unless you are Lazarus Long, dealing with losing a spouse after a 45 year relationship is literally a once in a lifetime event.
I did not do a perfect job, but I corrected the errors, and in the end what I did was good enough. That mission has been accomplished. I did not let down the most important person in my life. A great load has been lifted from me. (I suspect the military guys know best what I mean about fear of failing to complete the mission.)
While several have urged me to continue the practice, I am going to drop appending my comments Seawriter. I did that to encourage her to post. It was a private joke between us. What I will do is continue using Seawriter as a handle. I took it up because she wanted me to. I will keep it as my tribute to her.
Finally, I have not posted earlier because I have been incredibly busy. There are a tremendous number of things, from major activities to trivial details which need attending following the death of a loved one. On top of all that, I found myself roped in as chief cat herder dealing with all the friends and relations trying to help. They really are helpful, but often you have to untangle things. I have to do a post on that later.
God’s peace be with you and your family. I hope you will find comfort in the company of those who also know Janet and love her and will miss her. I hope your Home will fill with memories of her laughter and love and your grief will be held at bay.
As with so many others here I am so sorry.
Seawriter,
I’m so sorry for your loss.
Indeed a hole in your heart, and the world as well. My heart breaks for you all as well.
May G-D Bless you with Peace, and bring comfort to you, your sons, their wives, your grand children, and all the rest of family and friends who surely loved Quilter, and will feel her absence forever.
I’m sorry for your loss. Adding my prayers.
Such a beautiful tribute. You are a seriously good man Seawriter.
I am so sorry for your loss.
This is a beautiful tribute. Thank God she had your love.
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I am so sorry to hear this, Mark. My deepest condolences.
My deepest sympathy on your loss. Thank you for the beautiful heartbreaking eulogy.
I did what you asked.
“If it’s any consolation – ” It isn’t.
You were robbed and I am truly sorry. Please don’t be alone.
I am so sorry for your loss. It was incredibly heartbreaking to read this.
@seawriter I had no idea of you/your wife’s three-year battle with her cancer. These words you wrote in your original post paint a picture of a woman who knew what it was to be together in the best and truest sense of the word, was much loved, and will be remembered for life:
Peace and comfort to all who Janet loved and loved her in return.
You have my deepest condolences. Sadly, I’m very familiar with the process — I lost my wife to cancer a couple years ago.
God Bless you and all your loved ones.
My sincere condolences, and I am thankful to hear that you can take comfort in knowing you successfully completed this most important mission.
My heartfelt condolences and prayers of comfort for you and your family. I am so sorry.
I selfishly avoided reading this post, knowing I would likely cry sitting at work, but Hypatia’s post today brought me here and I finally read the grim news. I’ve been married only 26 years and simply can not imagine my life without her, so being honest I can’t fathom your fear of having to go on alone after 40 years together.
If it helps, I will share that my father buried my mother 2 years ago after 59 years of marriage, and what helped him move on after a couple months of depression was getting out of the house. He started attending church again, he does things with his friends, and he even found an elderly lady friend that like to go with him to Bob Evans to eat his favorite – biscuits and gravy.
Try to be strong Seawriter, know that you’ll see her again one day. You have some life left to live, don’t be afraid to go out and live it. My deepest condolences to you, and you have my prayers for healing.
As I pray for you and your family in this season of grief, I offer two thoughts:
Your beautiful words assure me that your remembrance of her will be ever present, like the rhythm of the waves that remain after you walk out of the ocean, and the salt in the southeast breeze whenever you walk out your door.
We met in HS and married the August after Mrs. OS graduated, a week after she turned 18. That will have been 50 years ago this August. Don’t tell her but I’ve always known that I married way, way, up. She’s smarter, better looking (not hard), wiser, more accomplished than I could ever be. We’ve been through rough patches, usually due to my blundering about, but we worked through them. A few years ago I finally realized that I needed to start each day with a passionate hug and kiss almost as much as she does. I try not to miss a day unless I have a cold (we don’t like to share everything.)
Mrs. OS is a 20 year breast cancer survivor. She was fortunate to have it caught early, had surgery, chemo and radiation. Then we started eating better, exercising more and she’s been healthier since then. I’ve always been the ‘healthy’ one, never sick much and so on, so I’ve always figured I’d outlive her. I tell her we will go out together (that’s my plan but I think I might not really be in charge here.) I dread outliving her for any substantial time but even worse would be leaving her alone. As I see long married couples who are widowed or widower (?) the pain is just something none of us would ever choose. But the time together is, has to be, worth any price.
My sympathies, such as they are, are with you in your loss. Thanks for the reminder to show my love for my better half, not just feel it, that’s always appropriate. My prayer for you is that family and friends will do what they can to be a comfort and support as you grieve. Don’t let anyone tell you how to grieve or how long, everyone takes their own path in this and there isn’t a wrong way.
No answer is required to this rant. If anything I’ve said is helpful, please take whatever is useful to heart. If anything is hurtful, please erase it from memory with my apologies.
OkieSailor, we have a lot in common. My dad says the same thing about his wife (my mom), and said the about me and Jan. (I told him it was proof the fruit never falls far from the tree.)
There are no adequate words. G-d bless.
Words fail me. Janet is the love of your life. I am so very sorry.
Your words are reassuring to me. Re-read them when all of the busyness is over.
You both were and are so talented. She will be missed. You will continue to inspire us.
I’m sorry for your loss. I hope the blessing of a long, productive, marriage will overshadow your grief one day; for your story should be one for your family and friends to reflect upon for inspiration in their own lives.
Our deepest condolences. May you and yours be comforted, and take profound solace from all the good years and memories.