The Real Adventure of a Lifetime
Recently we lost Allyson to cancer. She was my wife, our sons’ mother, her parents’ daughter, and her brothers’ sister. She was loved by many and I’m touched by the outpouring of support.
While she was fighting to recover in the hospital, I had a lot of time to reflect during those lonely car rides.
This is what I have to say.
I met Allyson in September 1997 while working for the US Army in New Jersey. I had just graduated from their Masters of Software Engineering program. I was now an instructor for Allyson’s incoming class of students.
She instantly caught my eye. Tall, beautiful, cute short blonde hair. I noticed in her computer code that she was naming variables after me, so I summoned the courage to ask her out on a date. We went to the mall to see this new hyped-up comic hero movie called Spawn.
We had simple salads at the food court for dinner. When we got to the movie theater, it was packed! We sat in the first row, all the way to the right. We watched the entire movie with our heads cocked up and to the left. And to make things worse, the movie was terrible!
That was our first date. The worst movie date in history. Cheap food, bad movie. And yet, she agreed to a second date, and we’ve been together ever since. Years later, Allyson revealed to me that on the first day we met, she told her friend that she found her future husband. She knew. Love at first sight.
When I wanted to leave the Army to work in New York City, she supported me. When I moved to Seattle for work, she followed me. We got married and had two beautiful boys, Jack and Alex. When I joined Google in California, she packed up the house and we went. Same thing when we moved back to Seattle and settled down in Sammamish. When I decided to retire from Google, she had my back, as always.
She was there every step of the way. All the good things that happened to me was with her and because of her. I hope she knows, and if not, she knows now.
I read something recently that made me appreciate her even more. You know that feeling when you’re home for Thanksgiving? The excitement on Christmas morning? Fireworks on New Years Eve and Fourth of July? Turns out it was never about the turkey, the gifts, the parties, and the BBQs. It was always about being with her, my wife, my soul mate, the center of our family.
Allyson was the magic of the holidays. She was Christmas. She was home.
After I retired, Allyson and I often talk about the things we could do once we become empty nesters. We thought about downsizing, moving to Taiwan, and traveling all over Asia. Japan, Korea, Singapore, Thailand, and more. First class everything. No expenses spared. You know, the social media version of the adventure of a lifetime.
But you know what? While our dreams of lifetime adventures are often exotic places far away: Machu Picchu, Maldives, Tahiti, Bali. The real adventure of a lifetime are your loved ones at home. They may be sitting next to you right now. It’s not just about going places and doing things. It’s really about going places and doing things with them. They are the real magic that makes the adventure of your lifetime.
My urge to travel the world has suddenly diminished. My main focus now is supporting our boys the best I can into their adulthood. I’ve got two dogs, Nicky and Berry, to take care of at home. I have a big house that suddenly feels more empty.
Following the funeral service, I will bring Allyson’s ashes home. I will still be able to see her all the time and tell her about my days. Where ever I go later in life, she will always be with me. It is my wish that we can be together at the end.
Will I fulfill my promise to Allyson to travel the world? I can’t answer that right now. But if I do, I will carry her in my heart to those destinations. When the mood is right, I will find a quiet place and sit.
I will talk to her.
I will tell her about the beautiful sights, the wonderful food, and the warmth of friends old and new.
I will tell her that I miss her, and that I love her.
I will tell her that she’s the real adventure of my lifetime.