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Family

My Friend Abbi

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360idev 2009 crowd shot

I posted about losing Abbi on Facebook, but haven’t talked about it here. Mostly because I’ve been processing it in the background, all this time.

I first met Abbi (Bottom left of the photo in the jacket) at 360|iDev San Jose, in 2009.

He was a fixture of the Mac community long before I met him, and up until the end. Ever the consummate entrepreneur, he was always looking for an angle. We argued a lot around this point, as I generally dislike what entrepreneurship has become in the valley. Abbi was Silicon Valley through and through.

He was the first to market with outlets with USB sockets in them but got beat out by bigger players. He built the first iPhone battery case, but well, Mophie.

No matter our disagreements, he was my friend. We didn’t get to hang out very often, he wasn’t a big traveler, so I only saw him when I went to San Jose/San Francisco for WWDC. I cherished our time every year. I’d have to drag him kicking and screaming from a loud party where no one could hear anyone else so we could eat a regular meal, and speak in normal volumes. One of our last hangs was during WWDC. He drug me to a party I didn’t want to go to on the promise we’d leave shortly after and grab a bite. We went to a pizza place that’s a staple in the area. We enjoyed pizza and a beer and talked about business.

Often I’ll be working on something and the thought, “Abbi would love this” or “This would drive Abbi nuts” will spring up. We loved sparing on ideas and business. Our approaches couldn’t have been more different.

most recently he and I were helping a friend with an app idea. We were essentially the idea pool. We had a weekly meeting where we threw out ideas, helped refine things, came up with next steps etc. It was fun, if not frustrating when Abbi and the rest of us butted heads on where this app idea could/should go.

Abbi was always the reacher. “Let’s take on Stripe! Let’s redefine what the cash register is!” etc. He never thought small, or even regular-sized. I loved him for that, even when shouting at him, LOL. He never settled. There was always something more he wanted.

Despite our differences, Abbi was invaluable, as a friend, and mentor. His thoughts helped shape mine. His friendship was unwavering.

When Winston passed, Abbi called me. He knew I was in pain, said he didn’t want to keep me, but to know he was there if I needed him, and his thoughts were with Nicole and me. I almost didn’t answer the call, because I hate phone calls. I’m so glad I answered.

Abbi passed in early November. He was, well, himself until the end. We were on a team call for the app idea. He nonchalantly said. “Sorry if it gets noisy. I’m in the hospital.” We pressed him for details, which he grudgingly shared before everyone else joined, then said. “Ok, let’s do this. This isn’t about me.”

That was Abbi. It was never about him. It was always about how he could help. Business ideas, rides to the airport, mac repairs, or discounts on repaired stuff. If he could, he would, for anyone.

Sadly, he never left the hospital. Complications, his age, and diet all lined up against him. We thought we’d see him pop onto slack any day with an “I’m better now. I had an idea about the app”

He never did.

I miss him still.

Grief

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I’ve been thinking a lot about grief the last few days. Winston’s sudden and unexpected passing was a gut punch like none I’ve ever experienced.
I’ve been lucky (as such) that my grandparents all passed expectedly. They had health issues, were old. The grieving process was protracted. Months in most cases. So when the end came, it was a mix of sadness and relief. Their suffering had come to an end. My parents are healthy and well, and I look forward to many more years with them.

Terrance and Philip, my best buds, each passed similarly. Both grew old, though not old enough IMO. Health issues came upon them, and when they passed (with an appointment at the vet), the grief wasn’t as sharp. I’d prepared myself. I’d said “goodbye” and “I love you” a lot and knew both were not having a good life any longer. Their ends were as much a relief as anything else. Their suffering was over, they were one with the Force.

Don’t get me wrong. I cried in all these scenarios, a lot.

Winston was different. Earlier that day, he and his brother were piled on my lap for cuddles and petting. That night he laid on his pillow near the kitchen island and watched us eat dinner. As we were watching TV he got up and went outside to potty, and came back in. Then he died. In the span of two minutes, he went from getting comfortable next to Nicole to making his last noise, a drawn-out groan/whine. Then he was gone. We still raced to the ER, but he was gone. I was next to him on the couch when his last breath came. My heart shattered.

The next day was the worst in my life (to date). I suppose second worse, given the night before. I cried, a lot. So much I gave myself an allergy attack or something so I was crying and sniffling and my nose was a snot faucet. Good times. It wasn’t pretty.

That night I turned the TV on, and the episode of Bull we had started the night before started playing where it left off. When Winston made his noise, I hit pause, and the rest of the night was a blur. By the time we got home, the TV had turned itself off.

Winston wasn’t that old; as far as we knew from his vet, he was healthy. His departure wasn’t planned or hinted at. There was no mourning him in advance. I never said my “goodbyes” and “I love yous” in advance. I know he knew we loved him. He had a good life full of treats and hugs. But still, I’d give anything for 5 or more years so I could say it a lot more.

The second day was better so far. I still expected him to walk by my office on his way to lay in the sun on the back patio to zip out and back in from going potty as fast as he could because it’s cold out. He hated being outside in the cold. His food bowl is still next to the water dispenser thing. It might be there a while.

This post is about me, writing about it helps get the pain out. I know it’s worse for Nicole. Winston was her little man.

I know with each passing day that will fade. My mind will get used to his absence and no longer expect to see him; I both look forward to that time and dread it because then he’ll really be gone.

Goodnight, Winston

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We met Paco and Winston about 10 years ago when we became their forever parents. Pet ownership is never without challenges but it’s been an amazing 10 years with two delightful little souls. Their energy and curiosity have lead to a lot of laughs.

Brothers, we adopted them both when we met them. How could we not?

While we had to rush to the vet once or twice when they decided to re-enact their favorite scene from Mad Max, I wouldn’t trade the time we had with them, even though Winston was great at starting shit he couldn’t back up.

The boys in their forever home

He loved his brother mostly, but in the words of their daycare, he was “Socially selective” with other dogs. But offer a lap and he was yours until you got bored, because he never got tired of sitting on laps.

Last night, Winston passed away. It was sudden and without warning. We were watching TV, he came in from outside, hopped up on the couch to snuggle with Mom (Nicole), and just… just died.

We’re going to miss him a lot. With Terrence and Philip they grew old and we had time to see their decline and be with them. When their times came we were ready, so were they. Winston was there, snuggling, then gone.

I’m glad that earlier in the day both little monkeys as we call them wanted ‘dad time’ joining me in my chair for a dog pile of kisses and wiggling. Well, kisses from Paco.

Winston was our little gentleman. He was stingy with kisses. Any day with more than one kiss from Winston was a banner day. He’d snuggle all day long, burrowing under the blanket with you, but kisses, those were for special occasions.

Winston being his regal self

Winston’s ideal day was sitting curled up next to Nicole on the couch. He hated getting dirty. He hated leaving our side, well mostly Nicole’s I was optional most of the time.

Winston had no interest in being alone, unlike his brother who we think might be a cat dressed as a dog. Every night Winston came upstairs with us and waited for his teeth to be brushed before jumping up on the bed. He was Nicole’s “little spoon”. He’d sleep between us, his cute little head poking out of the covers between our pillows.

Sometimes he’d wake us up in the middle of the night while having a particularly awesome chasing a thing dream.

Winston was an awesome road trip buddy even though he hated the idea of leaving the house. He would lay down with a resigned sigh, like, “Fine, I’ll go. Let me know when we get there.”

I’m going to miss you a lot little man. Like a lot. Paco misses you and doesn’t understand why we ran out of the house last night in a frenzy, leaving him all alone, let alone why you didn’t come home with us, or why we were crying so hard.

I’ll never forget your goofy underbite or how angry you got about being expected to fetch things just for us to throw them again.

Goodnight, Winston

15 years

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Nicole and Winston

I’ve had the pleasure to be married to my best friend for 15 years!

We’ve shared adventures around the globe, the loss of friends and family, job changes and home renovations. I can’t wait to see what and where our next adventures lie.

We met, married, and left CA in just over a year. We moved to CO for a job, and it’s the only place we consider home now.

We started a software consulting company, closed said company, changed job roles, and more.

She’s my biggest supporter and cheerleader, often pushing me to reach past my comfort zones to further my writing career.

I love you punkin, you’re my forever lobster.

Buh bye Bubba Phillip

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Yesterday we had to send our dog Phillip to doggy heaven. He’s playing with his brother Terrence (Yup, that was their names) who passed two years ago.

It was tough, I’ve had them both since they were about 6 weeks old, Phillip was about 12 years old. They were my campanions thru relationships, moves and more. They even moved across country with me and Nicole from CA to CO.

Yesterday was hard. Just as hard as the day we took Terrence to the vet, maybe a little more, we knew there wasn’t anyone at home waiting for us, to help us grieve and adapt to life without a dog. It’s funny how you get used to their presence, even when they’re just sleeping behind your office chair or down in the living room looking out the window.

In the end I know it was the right decision, he was old in big dog years, and his health was failing him, even though he didn’t always like that. He had a hard time getting on the couch (his favorite place to sleep) and food stopped being appealing (if you knew Phillip, you’ll know how serious things were), he had gotten anemic and there was probably internal bleeding too from who knows what :( He was on IV fluids and tons of pills just keep him from being nauseous :(

Our vet Dr. Graf is awesome! She was very supportive of our decision, even confirming that we were really sure, since there’s no take backs, she loved both bubbas almost as much as we did. In the end his big heart gave out, just with sedation, before she even administered the pink stuff. So we knew he was holding on for us more than anything else, and was more than ready to let go, and move on.

Dogs are so incredible. When they pass it makes you realize how short our time with them is, even small breeds don’t live that long compared to us. Being a dog owner means coming to terms with death, but it never gets easier. I have no shame admitting I cried like a little girl much of yesterday (and for that matter as I type this now), in front of the vet and the tech, Nicole and strangers in the cars next to us at lights. I’ve said goodbye to many dogs over the years and it’s never gotten easier. I don’t expect it will.

I’m certain we’ll get another dog. I almost wish we had gotten a puppy for Phillip to play with and be with at the end, as much for him to have a companion when we travel (I hated leaving him these past few months even for just a few days) as for us to help grieve and move on and focus our energies on someone else. We’ll probably wait a while since we’ve got travel or conferences every month the rest of 2010. There’s never been a doubt in my mind there’d be dogs after Terrence and Phillip, but it’s tough to say goodbye to a lifelong friend and then steel yourself for doing again in 10-15 years with your next friend. I sometimes wish Tortoises were more cuddly.

Goodbye Phillip, we love you and miss you.

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