Thirteenth Anniversary

Today marks thirteen years since I married Stanley Arthur Coombs. Thirteen was our number: We met on a thirteenth and married on a different thirteenth the following year. We mentioned, at the very least, that it was our day on the thirteenth of every month we were together. 

I wrote some solid things that are still true for our tenth anniversary on this blog, and I don't want to repeat myself. I'll use this space to say that Stanley died in 2016, so this anniversary marks a moment in time when I've survived him almost as long as I was married to him. We only missed celebrating our seventh anniversary together by a month and half, so the marriage still wins by a few months at this point, but the symmetry being so close on "our number" anniversary seems significant to me.

If you know that Stanley was twenty-four years older than me, you might wonder why I was so blindsided that he predeceased me by so many years. 

He always seemed healthy and youthful. The world was a place of new experiences and ceaseless wonder for him. He was never old. His parents also both lived well into their eighties, and I figured he must've inherited some longevity, and we had at least twenty more years ahead of us in 2016. 

I'd forgotten that he'd smoked a pack a day for forty years before he met me. 

It was easy to forget because as soon as I mentioned that I didn't appreciate smoking, he quit. I never saw him with a cigarette. 

If only the cells in his lungs could've forgotten so easily! 

Our short years together compacted an insane amount of love and joy. We did everything right, from finding each other at long last, to not waiting long to marry, to wandering all around the United States and Spain, enjoying life on Earth in all its complexity. 

Our relationship changed to the nonphysical realm too quickly. Tobacco companies stole some two decades from us. Stanley always said, "You gotta die from something." It's true, but I can't help but think that something so stupid and preventable was unworthy of my wonderful husband. 

It was too late by the time I met him. 

It may not be too late for you. 

The present moment is all we have. 

Announcing Our Lady's Troubadour, Historical Fiction from My Heart, with Cover Reveal

I've been pounding away at the keyboard, seriously. You can hardly see the letters anymore, my nails have been scraping them off so much! This has been almost all to bring you a book that's really important to me: Our Lady's Troubadour and Other Miraculous Tales from the Cantigas de Santa Maria in Honor of Alfonso X, el Sabio. 

Alfonso X is my favorite king because he has a reputation for loving learning. His legacy includes histories, astronomy, legislation, and his masterwork, the Cantigas de Santa Maria, which is the largest collection of Marian miracles ever set to music. They survive in four deluxe manuscripts that emphasize how important these songs were to the king. 

November 23, 2021, marks 800 years since the birth of Alfonso X. There are a few conferences, concerts, and plays scheduled in places such as Toledo and Sevilla, but for a while there, the pandemic made it seem none of that would be possible. So I ramped up a project I'd started years ago, adapting some of the stories from the Cantigas into a short story collection. 

With a last push during confinement (lockdown), and the go-ahead from my publisher, Encircle Publications, years of love, devotion, writing, and editing, have resulted in Our Lady's Troubadour, ten short stories set in an ideal medieval Spain with problems and perils, but always happy endings. It will release on November 17, 2021, in hardcover, paperback, and ebook. 

November 17 was the birthday of my beloved husband, Stanley, so I'm touched to be able to add that small tribute to this project that's so important to me. 

The cover is based on one of the miniatures in the most important Cantigas codex. In it, Alfonso X himself points out to St. Mary and attendant saints and an angel all the wonderful ways he's sung her praises. Alfonso is shown to have direct access to St. Mary many times in the Cantigas, and this (unorthodox, bordering heretical) close relationship is unique in medieval European art. I always love something wonderful that much more if it's unique. 

More about this joyful new book coming soon!

Este tributo desde el fondo de mi corazón sale el mismo día 17 de noviembre en castellano con el título de Trovador de Santa María. El 3 de diciembre, habrá en Zamora una presentación del libro con música, y con un poco de suerte, también en Toledo.

(This heartfelt tribute will appear simultaneously in Spanish as Trovador de Santa Maria, and I'm planning an in-person book launch in my medieval city of Zamora, hopefully with an appearance to follow in Toledo.) 

Tenth Anniversary

The last time I wrote about my wedding anniversary, I made the announcement on this blog that my beloved husband had died.

It's been three years, and I've survived and put together some semblance of life. He was taken from me far too soon, but I've mostly accepted that the summer of 2016 was his time. The thing about this kind of grief is that it always hurts. It's not something you get over. It's something you live with. Or not.

The death of Stanley Arthur Coombs is the worst thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't care who knows it. With amazing help from beloved friends and family, I've moved forward. (Moving on is not the right phrasal verb because it connotes leaving things behind, forgetting. Forgetting is the last thing you want to do when all you have of the love of your life is memories.)

Even so, a world without Stanley still feels sudden and verging on unbearable. Is it worth living in such a world? It's exhausting to have to answer that every morning before I get out of bed.

I've taken measures to make this question easier to answer yes to. Every day, I read a few pages of a book my husband and I had read together. I meditate, a new practice we had discussed many times before he passed away. I live with a friend because although I needed space to grieve when I first arrived here, by my second year, I needed the kind of human contact only living with someone provides. Most dramatically, I moved to Spain.

Moving to a foreign country far from friends and family might not seem like the wisest self-care option. For me, it's the only way to make a world without Stanley tolerable. We had discussed moving to Spain together shortly before he died, so coming here has been, in part, keeping a promise to him. I tried to arrive on our wedding anniversary to ensure that his spirit would stay with me.

Spain is where I've always wanted to live, where I feel (ironically) at home. I keep up with American friends and family through the magic of technology. I go to Manolo Garcia concerts (the best thing anyone can do!). I eat delicious food. I do things I never imagined, like sing in a choir in the Teatro Principal or go on a pilgrimage. I take trips to see the kinds of amazing sights I've always wanted to, sights that make me want to write novels. If I'm feeling down, I can step out into the street and see Romanesque and Modernist architecture, hear beautiful Spanish used to express all manner of feelings, smell the aromas from the bakeries or the burgeoning life in the river, or watch the birds fly home in the soft, changing colors of the sunset over the castle.

These small things don't necessarily make life worth living in and of themselves. But pausing to appreciate them honors what Stanley taught me about what's important in life. These things make getting up in a world without the love of my life a bit less of a burden.

I'm also working on long-term goals, such as ensuring my continued residency in Spain, getting my writing translated into Spanish, and writing new surprising works. All of these activities require enormous optimism I think has always been a part of me, but found its raison d'etre in Stanley, and took a nosedive at the end of July 2016. The optimism is coming back up now, though it may need extra coaxing.

Of course, I always imagined I would celebrate my tenth wedding anniversary with my husband. The tenth, and many beyond that. Perhaps we would watch the now-antique video below and marvel. "That doesn't seem like ten years ago!" Or "We thought we were in love then, but we had no idea! It just keeps getting better! How can this be?" But here I am, with only a blog to mark this special occasion.

Look, my love. Look at those two starry-eyed kids. That was us! 
Start at 57:00 to skip the raw footage and view only the edited cut. 
Knauss & Coombs Wedding from Frank Breen on Vimeo.

The Most Romantic City

Boston from Mount Auburn Cemetery, Cambridge
Photo 2009 Jessica Knauss 

In 2008, my future husband, Stanley, was living in Boise, Idaho. The Universe arranged it so that his job required him to fly in and stay in a hotel in Boston four days a week. I was living in a Boston suburb and offering guided tours of my favorite American city.

2009 Jessica Knauss 

On February 13, 2008, ten years ago today, under a cold rain, Boston became the most romantic city in the world when I met the man who would quickly reveal himself as the love of my life. 

The photo includes some of the Fenway, Fenway Park, Comm Ave with
the Citgo Sign and Boston University, and some of the Charles.
2008 Jessica Knauss 

Here's to you, Boston, city of history, city of heavy accents, city of terrible drivers, city of true love. 

The Green Line is the United States' first subway.
2009 Jessica Knauss 

The teapot at Government Center really steams!
2009 Jessica Knauss 

The 'aba (Boston Harbor)
2009 Jessica Knauss 

At the De Cordova Sculpture Park
2009 Jessica Knauss 

On our wedding day with Boston Common, the Hancock Tower, and
Boston Harbor visible from the Top of the Hub. 

Stanley is gone. He left the physical world a year and a half ago. That's nothing in Boston, founded in 1630, 388 years ago. And 388 years can't hope to compare to how long our love will last. Even though only one of us is left, our love remains unbounded. 

Seventh Anniversary

The insane happiness of true love 

Today is our seventh wedding anniversary. If I were to write down everything that is wonderful about my husband, no one would ever believe it. It seems impossible that so many cherished qualities could reside in one person. Just take a look at this guest post he wrote about love on the occasion of Valentine's Day, 2014, and you may get some notion of how close he comes to perfection in human form. For the purposes of this blog, it's relevant that he's my biggest fan and proofreads everything I write, from epic novels to correspondence. I couldn't have kept up this blog, written two novels, and had them published without his unflagging support.

I wish I didn't have to report that the love of my life passed away at the end of July.

Forgive my writing if it's less than perfect these days.

I dedicated Awash in Talent to him, and he was very proud to have had a part in my little book. I also wrote a big thanks to him in the back of Seven Noble Knights, but I'm sorry to say I was saving that little gift for "later," so he never got to see it.

He was ill for a long time and we never knew. He always seemed like the picture of health and youthful vigor until that last nightmare week. Even then, covered head to toe in tubes and wires and restraints to keep him in the hospital bed, when doctors would ask how he felt, he responded, "I'm fine." Maybe he was sticking to social convention, but I prefer to think he was responding on the basis of the health of his soul. It was always unencumbered and beautiful. Never had a sick day in its life, even as his body gave out.

I wrote a blog post for each of our anniversaries. Some are all about how great our marriage was and some are more tangential. Some are long and detailed and others are short for lack of adequate words.

2015   2014   2013   2012   2011   2010

As I read these over, I'm struck by how little time was required for our love to become exponentially truer, bigger, and better. The love of your life is the love of your life, no matter how little time you get to spend with him. It's appropriate that time never seemed to touch my husband. He was always as fresh and new as the first bloom of springtime.

Believe me, I appreciate that not everyone gets even a chance at something as great as our marriage. I don't know if it's possible, but I hope the slight inconvenience of death won't stop our love from continuing to grow and improve the world. It is my greatest achievement that I love and am loved by such an extraordinary human being.

Love in the Air

This weekend marked the sixth anniversary of my husband and me.

Time is such a bizarre construct. We're still newlyweds, and yet when we look at our wedding video, we appear to be children. Maybe it's because we had no idea of the adventures that awaited us. Maybe it's because our love has only grown. It seemed infinite on our wedding day, but our love is much bigger, wider, deeper, and stronger now.

True love grows and develops. It occupies the world without detracting from it.

Look out, world! One day, love will be so enormous, it will obliterate all the hate.

All The Small Things: A Guest Post from My Husband

Our wedding day in 2009.

My dear husband had some musings about the meaning of love, and since it's so close to Valentine's Day, I'm letting him take over the blog. Thanks, sweetheart!

Why is one day a year, Valentine’s Day, designated to show love to your significant other? Is this all that the most important person in your life deserves? One day of the expression of your love and devotion? What about the rest of the year? The other 364 days? I would suggest that Valentine’s Day be an everyday occasion and I make every attempt to make it so. 

As we all know, “love” is a concept – a notion that is not well defined and, in all likelihood, has a somewhat different meaning for most everyone. As with the “meaning,” you most likely exhibit love to your “special person” differently. I try to exhibit how I care about this most special person in my life in many ways – each and every day. It’s not always about the big things – boxes of chocolate, greeting cards, flowers, trips and such. It’s more about finding small ways to make your partner’s day-to-day life special. Recognizing that everyone is a product of their childhood conditioning, you must find what’s important to them and do things for them that they enjoy or treasure – the smallest of things.

Jessica and I go out of our way to take care of each other all year long. Openly and truly taking care of each other – not because we have to, and not out of habit, but consciously doing these things in the present moment. We celebrate our anniversary more than once a year, acknowledging it each month at least.

I love to make her happy in doing chores around the house, making her breakfasts, opening the car door for her, being a good listener, doing the “heavy lifting” around the house and keeping things clean, telling her “I Love You” frequently, that she’s the most beautiful woman I have ever known and thank her for choosing me as her life partner. She loves chocolate, so I make sure she has plenty. The list could go on for pages.

There are many, many small things we do for each other with no expectation that the kindness be returned but – magically – it is. Of course, we both have our occasional “off” days and we strive to provide the support to help those days pass without any additional trauma.

I never take Jessica for granted. She has fulfilled every dream that I had for a partner. My only regret is that we did not meet much earlier.

Thank you darlin’ for everything! Happy Valentine’s Day.