In Heidi's Magical Memory

Heidi and I met at the late Jewish-Mexican Ball in Austin on December 12, 1992. She was wearing an electric green dress. She was dancing all night long, and all I could do was watch her. Thank God she came up to me, told me she was leaving town soon so I should call her. I called her three days later. I picked her up with a rose at 4:30 am for our first date on December 15 at Magnolia Café on Congress. Heidi caught her flight to vacation in Albuquerque at 7 am that same day. Three days later, I was in Albuquerque. My mom bought me a plane ticket and gave me $100 extra cash so I could go be with Heidi (because I begged her – I used my birthday, Christmas, every holiday I could think of to convince her to help me make that happen). I just had to see her eyes and her smile, didn’t want to be without her. I stayed out there for a week and we came back together. We dated for a couple of weeks and I moved in with her in Austin. We dated for seven years before we got married and rarely spent any time apart. We chose each other over and over again for thirty years, learning to be with ourselves and learning to be together. She was such a bright light in my life, in this world.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Heidi had just finished a nice round of snuggles with two of our endearing furbabies, Jimmy Choo and Isabelle, and was in the shower when she lost feeling to the left side of her body. I called 911 and they sent a specialized stroke and heart attack unit that works with first responders. Heidi was still conscious when they picked her up, joking and keeping everyone laughing, like she always did. They wouldn’t let me ride with her so before they took her away in the ambulance I told her, “I love you. I’ll see you in a little bit.” The last words that she said to me were, “I love you. Okay.” Five minutes before she arrived at the hospital, the aneurysm at the stem of Heidi’s brainstem that had caused her stroke exploded and she became unresponsive and was intubated. As I frantically gathered all of our documents so I could be with my wife at the hospital, I called Ruthie and Anja. They both dropped everything to rush to be at our side. Anja and her newlywed husband, Matthias, were able to beat me to the hospital and greet me with the hugs I needed in that moment. The neurologist waited for me to arrive at the hospital before he shared news of the CT scan that they had done immediately upon intake. He told us about the aneurysm; told us it was not operable, not survivable, the longer she was on life support, the longer it would take for her to pass when we took her off. With heavy hearts, many family and friends bolstered us up with their silent presence as we were taken into ICU room 232 to be with Heidi. Ruthie and her son, Daniel, made it in from Alpine to be with us as we watched them remove the ventilator. We spent Christmas Eve sharing stories and sitting in silence around her. Matthias, Anja, and I stayed the night at the hospital. We were all awake towards the tail end of the witching hour on Christmas Day as our beloved Heidi took her finishing breaths. She was pronounced dead at four am. Our nurse, Kai, treated Heidi with the utmost respect and love the entire time she was in her care, making sure she was comfortable in her last moments and beyond. The whole thing was so fast, but I know she went peacefully and gracefully, like the Queen we all know her to be, on a bed of blue lotus flowers and rose petals.

She got to spend her last weeks surrounded by people she loved and that loved her. The final week was so blessed. Heidi got to be with her sister, Shaeri, whom she hadn’t seen in four years. She got to hold her fairy grandbaby at her baby’s wedding (Anja and Matthias just got married on December 21) and spent the whole night with the biggest smile on her face. She even drove me home in the wee hours of the morning.

Reflecting on Heidi, I can’t help but think about how many countless lives she touched. She went out of her way to make everyone feel good, whether that was simply through her warm presence or by changing people’s lives when she met them in a world of pain. She was such a driving force in our CBD business, which may even be how you met us. Maybe Heidi lured you in with her authenticity or her bubbly nature. It’s going to be tough figuring out how to keep our CBD baby, Hempferu, going with half of my team gone. I plan on finding a way, although I think it will take me at least a couple months. I am already missing her, in life, in business, in love. I know the hardest part is yet to come, as I begin to go through all of her things. I’m going to have to sell our 2018 Honda Odyssey because I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep it. We haven’t even received the hospital bill yet, and although Heidi has insurance, I’m still going to have to cover 40% out of pocket. Even in death, though, I know she won’t leave me. She’ll be working some Heidi magic wherever she is. Right now, my priority is taking care of myself, our two dogs, three cats, and fish. We are all missing Heidi. I’m so grateful for these furry children and the plants that Heidi loved so much that she left me with, for the friends and family that have been by my side around the clock, because I’m not ready to be alone right now.

It is hard for me to ask anything of anyone right now, because I am still figuring out what I need. To say I am processing a lot, well… I would say that’s fair. I wouldn’t have made it this far without all of you, and there’s no way I can continue without beseeching your help, in whatever form you are willing to offer it. So here I am, begging you to help me as I maneuver my new life without Heidi in the same way I begged my mama thirty years ago when I asked her to please, please, please help me go see that bewitching, dazzling woman. I’ll pull out any card I need to: Christmas, New Years, my birthday, Heidi’s birthday. I need your help. Please and thank you.

I love you and so does Heidi. She was such a unique being, absolutely magnetic. She savored every moment of life and it’s hard to wrap my head around the idea of living it without her. Heidi, you will forever be in my heart. I will never forget how much fun we had together. I love you for always. I’ll see you later.