StephMemorial: Can't wait!

It was shortly after she moved to Frisco, before she even found us an apartment, while we were still living in the rez hotel, that I first recognized this weird new feeling of "Can't Wait to Get Home to Her." It was like looking forward to a date with a woman I was nuts about, but having that feeling every single day of the week.

One afternoon around this era, I was working an evening shift, but my boss had sent me on an errand to get something at an office supply store. So I was waiting for the bus, and who came walking toward me on the sidewalk? My own lovely wife. It was borderline surreal, actually. Steph was walking to Walgreens to buy something she needed, and I was a mile from home in a city of 750,000 souls, and my soulmate said hello.

Moments like that became ordinary. When I woke up in the morning I'd usually be in bright spirits, because I'd be seeing her before leaving for work, or better yet on the weekends, spending the day with her. Running errands I'd be in a better mood, in general, than I'd been in the past, because when I was done with the errands I'd be coming home to her. At work, I'd be anxious for the shift to end, so I could hurry home to her. Always, every day, a smile and a kiss awaited me, and that meant that always, every day, no matter how crappy the day might be going, I always knew that things would be better as soon as I came home.

I don't know, is it normal that married people have this giddy feeling toward each other every single day? We had that feeling every day, in San Francisco for four years, Kansas City for three years, and Madison for almost fourteen years. Every day, both of us.

And yet, we didn't talk about it often, didn't ponder it much, and after a while we took it for granted. I never took Stephanie for granted, but that marvelous feeling, that perpetual undercurrent of optimism and "looking forward to seeing her" — that feeling became second nature. It just seemed like an ordinary condition of life. Until it was gone.

Welcome to StephMemorial

Stephanie Webb was my wife, my closest friend, my angel. We were together from 1997 until 2018, and for all that time we were head-over-heels in love. She was the best thing that ever happened to me, or ever will.

Who was Stephanie? She was complicated, and sometimes difficult. She was brilliant but insecure, eloquent but introverted, strong-willed but soft-spoken, tough as titanium but always vulnerable, a dreamer but utterly down-to-earth. Sometimes she was deeper than the Marianas Trench, and other times so silly you'd be giggling for hours.

She wasn't famous, and she was never arrested or made headlines. She worked ordinary office jobs, but after hours and on the weekend she was adventurous — oh, the places we've been (though always on a budget). She developed major medical problems toward the end, but other than a few dark days she generally kept an optimistic outlook. She was 26 when we met, and 48 when she died.

This domain was created to post her obituary on-line, so old friends who'd been out of touch could Google her name and know that she'd passed away. After writing the obituary, though, there was more to be said. And then, more still.

I don't want to forget any of the moments we spent together, the things we did, or the promises we made, kept, and broke — but I'm old and sometimes forgetful, and it's not likely that my memory will improve with age. So I'm writing it. Almost all of it. I reckon that's going to take the rest of my life.

I can't tell you everything about Stephanie, of course. As well as I knew her, there must be many stories she never told me, and many stories she told me that I've forgotten. There are also, of course, some stories that I'm not going to share.

She didn't often speak about her childhood, her adolescence, her first years of adulthood, and her answers when I asked were usually brief. She got the recipe for Stephanie exactly right, that's for sure — but I wasn't there while she was creating herself, day by day and bit by bit, so my focus will be on the time we had together.

It was delightful and never dull spending those years with her, and it's my hope to convey some small smidgen of the joy of Stephanie. Of course, her spirit can't be captured and posted on-line, and there's no doubt that I'm going to fail. But I am going to try.

I am under no illusion that this site will be popular. That's not the point. When I write about Stephanie it's like spending more time with her, or re-spending old times with her, and that's the best thing left in my life.

My name is Doug, and I'm (still and always) Stephanie's husband. If you knew her, or have something to say about the website, or if you've spotted a typo, you can reach me via the form below.