How crazy it seems to have been. Ridiculous. In 1996, who had ever thought about the internet? Us, that’s who. I, busy running a small internet service provider in rural Kansas — dialup with amazingly fast 33.6 speeds, and Natasha, known by her online handle with AOL of Caltha, interested in so many of the things I was interested in.
We would talk, trade messages. And, every so often we would see each other at a concert or a gathering. The first time I met her parents, a few years later in 1998, we had a different announcement: we were getting married! I had never met her parents before, and the internet, well, in 1997 it wasn’t a thing. Natasha was so confident of the outcome that she had booked us into a bed and breakfast in Fort Lauderdale to attend a concert the night before we would visit her parents.
We traveled together to see Tori Amos more than two dozen times over the years. When RAINN was young and barely a thing, we joined with others to help raise funds and awareness, and the RAINN auction was born. In 1998, we were among the first winners of a major item donated to support RAINN, tickets to see Tori Amos at Madison Square Garden.
There would be joy and hope, political challenges and battles we would fight together. The strategy we would consider, children to raise. And, at the heart of it all, there would be us.
This morning, at 1:15 AM, a large chapter of that story ended, as my partner passed in her sleep, ending her suffering and struggle.
In the weeks following her surgery, Natasha would talk about the adventures we had together or adventures we had planned. Feb. 13 marked our 20th wedding anniversary. We had planned a cruise and some travel. It wasn’t to be. Our wedding was strategically placed to compensate for the fact I would often forget dates. It would be hard, we thought, for me to forget our anniversary when it would be one week after her birthday on Feb. 6, and the day before Valentine’s day.
On our anniversary this year, and her birthday, I spent my time dashing to cover our children and making my way to visit her and share some of those memories.
I’m writing on Daily Kos, though, because one thing that united us, especially in the last few years was our work and shared goals around political activism. As I write this, I’m reminded I won’t see any more postings from her .. ahem.. more bomb-throwing sock puppets online. I won’t get to hear her thoughts on political races, where we should go and what does and doesn’t need attention.
What we came to know after our scans was that this situation was building for years, and was simply missed by doctors who chose to look at unrelated items that could be treated through pharmacology rather than run the tests that might have found answers. And during all that time, I cannot imagine the pain her condition may have caused her.
It never, not once, stopped her from pushing me and others to do better, every day. To work harder, every day. And to fight harder, every day.
In the ICU and first facility of treatment, in mid-December, Natasha would often ask: “Did we win”, referring to her work on behalf of now Representative Sharice Davids and Laura Kelly. Knowing what I know now, it is shocking to me that she had the energy to push as she did for those things. That she had the energy to push and support my travel and urge us to “do more”. She took on so many things in her last year, things she wanted to accomplish.
Every day when she would ask that question: “Did we win”, I was able to tell her: “We did. We did everything we could.”
When you are 44, and 23 years of your life are shared with one person, there is far more of your life in that shared relationship than any life before it. It comes to define a big part of who you are, and the person you hope to be.
Daily Kos for both of us was a place of solace when we needed it, joy when we needed it, funny times when we needed it (admittedly, she was a big fan of the pootie diaries), and it was a place for anger where it was warranted. It was a part of our family.
I cannot tell you how grateful I have been for the support of the family here, and my fellow members of staff.
Love, hold my hand
Help me see with the dawn
That those that have left
Are not gone
But they carry on
As stars looking down
As nature's sons
And daughters of the heavens
You will not ever be forgotten by me
In the procession of the mighty stars
Your name is sung and tattooed now on my heart
Here I will carry, carry, carry you
Forever