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Epic Eric

Last week my husband Eric shot a 69 at the Texas Rangers Golf Club. It had been many years since he broke 70, and never in the time that I have known him.

If you aren’t familiar with golf, just know this is a rare score for most amateur golfers, even for those as skilled as Eric. Although his personal best is a 66, this score is . . . Epic!

This is to be celebrated! But knowing him, I can count on one hand the number of people he shared it with, including me. He is not on social media and I’m not sure he would tell anyone at work. Nor would he be texting all his golf buddies back in Seattle. He feels no need to let the world know. Because, he’s . . . Eric.

Me on the other hand, I am so proud of him, I can hardly stand it! But I’m so proud of him for so many reasons.

Friends and family will ask, as people often do when you are catching up with them, “How is Eric?”

I always say, “He’s fine. Because, you know . . . he’s Eric!” And they do know. Anyone who knows Eric, knows exactly what I mean.

I came across this card at Starbucks about four months after we met, when they still gave away free iOS apps and music. Coincidence? Like many other aspects of how Eric and I encountered each other in this life, I think not.

I grabbed the card. After I shared it with my friends the Joneses, they coined Eric’s nickname: Epic.

In the beginning of our relationship it was indeed a puzzler, as I sorted out my complex feelings around opening my heart to a new person in the midst of my deep grieving process. But our life that we have created together feels like a fairy-tale ending.

He truly is Epic Eric, my unsung hero.

Eric stepped into my world as though he knew intuitively that he was meant to be there, with his steady kindness, deep strength and unabashed love for me. He would hold me as I sobbed bitterly, still in the midst of grieving, knowing there was nothing he could do except allow me to work through the process. He understood that it wasn’t about him, if he was ever impatient hearing about or being reminded of what I had lost, he never let on—even to this day. He gamely and happily met every single client (sometimes at 6am in the gym!), friend and acquaintance of mine, and the second he left they would look at me and nod approvingly, won over by his good nature and friendly energy. It was . . . Epic.

Epic is the steadiest person I have ever met in my entire life, with a quiet confidence few have. If I could bottle what he has and sell it, I’d be a gazillionaire. I believe he is truly content and secure within himself. His calm demeanor soothes my endlessly analytical and questioning mind and soul. I am continually amazed by the support and understanding he offers me. He’s unbelievably easygoing. His enthusiasm is contagious, and his ability to find joy and excitement in the smallest things (for example, he made sure we bought a house here in Texas with a deep pool so he could jump in!) is one of the many things I love so much about him. He’s just . . . happy. But don’t mistake happiness for weakness, he will not hesitate to speak up when and if he needs to protect people he cares about. If he is in your corner, you will never feel more secure and supported. He is indeed . . . Epic.

He’s had four holes-in-one and his best golf score ever is 66 (which he shot twice.) But just last week, he shot a 69.

And he loves me so much that it takes my breath away.

Because . . . he’s Epic Eric. A puzzler with a fairy-tale ending.

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