48 M a r i n o c t o b e r 2 0 1 0 m a r i n m a g a z i n e . c o m
first person
Thisiswhereitallstarted—Tennessee
ValleyBeach.ThedayafterErikand I
movedfromFloridatoCalifornia—both21
atthetime—wehikedtwomilestoreach
thismagnificentNorthernCaliforniacoast-
line,andIwasimmediatelyfilledupwith
thepowerofauniversalforceIhadnever
experiencedbefore.
WefellinlovewithTennesseeValleythat
day.Then,aswemarriedandbeganbuild-
ingourfamily,wefellinlovewithourlifein
MarinCountyevenmore.
My children’sphotographybusiness
quicklygrewtoinclude2,000BayArea
familiesandworldwidepublications,while
Erik climbed themanagement ranksat
IndustrialLightandMagic.Wefoughtlike
mostcouplesdo,butwehadfinallyreached
thepointinwhichtheplayfulgestureofa
middlefingercouldendmostarguments.
Isn’tmarriageaboutlearningtoseethe
perfectionineachother’simperfections?
OnEasterSunday,2003,Ireachedover
myseven-month-pregnantbellytohelpour
one-year-olddaughter,Tatiana,findcolorful
eggsinthebackyard.Ourgirlswouldbe19
monthsapart.
AsIcaughtEriksmilingatus,Isaid,“Do
youthinkabouthowluckyweare?”
“Yes,”Erikreplied.“Ithinkaboutitat
leastfivetimesaday."
Wehadeverythingwehadeverwanted.
AfterourcasualEasterdinner,Erikgot
uptomakethecoffee,andTatianaandI
watchedinhorrorashesliddownthekitch-
encounter.
“Erik,getup,”Isaid.
ThenInoticedthebloodonthesideof
hismouthfromwherehe’dbithistongueon
thewaydowntoourwhite-tiledfloor.
Oneminutehewas laughing,and35
minuteslaterhewaspronounceddead.
Heartattack,at29yearsold.
Justlikethat.
Istoodoverhismotionlessbodyinthat
sterilehospitalroom,kissinghiscoldeyelids,
asheavingsobsrolledthroughourunborn
daughter.Mymouthtracedhislips,wishing,
morethananything,thatIcouldblowlife
backintohim.
ButErikhadtakenhislastbreath.
Iwantedtolieontopofhimanddie.
HowcanIdothiswithouthim?Howcan
ItellTatianathatherdaddyisdead?
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My Drop Dead Life
By Hyla MolanderGustsofwindshoutthroughthefogover
TennesseeValley, slappingmy long brown hair in all directions. I
holdmylegssteadyonthecliffsideandwatchthe10-footPacific
wavesdevourbitsofredearththreestoriesbelow.Thebushesmake
arustlingsound,suddenlyremindingmeoftherumoredmountain
lion,butwhenIturnaround,twodeerspringdownthehillinstead.
m a r i n m a g a z i n e . c o m M a r i n o c t o b e r 2 0 1 0 49
Careforanotherbaby?How?Why?
Theonlywaytogetpastthis, Iknew,
wastowalkstraightintomypain.Ivowed
totakeholdofmysadness,wrestlingitlike
awildrattlesnake,sothatIcouldeventually
beagoodmotheragain.
Ididn’twantmyhearttobebrokeninto
pieces.Iwantedtobebrokenopen.Ineed-
edtofindmeaninginthistragedy.
Aftershuttingdownmyphotography
business,Istartedeverypossibletypeof
therapy:traditionalgriefcounseling,mas-
sage, energywork, a spousal loss sup-
portgroup,hypnotherapy,EyeMovement
DesensitizationReprocessing forPost-
TraumaticStressDisorder,andvigorous
exercise.Allofithelped,butIcontinuedto
searchforanswers.
Wordspouredthroughmyfingers,de-
scribingthehammeringangst.Againand
again,mymindreplayedthatEasterSunday.
Iwroteabouttheblood,Tatiana’sscreams,
andthenherfrequentreenactmentofher
daddy’sdeath.Eachexcerptpeeledback
anotherlayer.
SixweeksafterKeira’sbirth,Erik’smoth-
ersaid,“Sweetheart,youneedtogetback
outthere.Erikwantsyoutofindloveagain.”
Shesawmyloneliness.SheknewIlonged
forwhatI’dhadbefore.
So,even though I felt likedamaged
goods,Ienteredtheworldofonlinedating.
IwroteandrewrotemyMatch.comprofile,
whichfinallyread,inpart:“Thereisaplace
wherehappinessoverwhelmsyou,where
youfeelyoumightburstbecauseitfeelsso
good.Ihavebeentothatplace.Ihavebeen
thereandtasteditsrichnessandIknow
thatIwillreturnthereonceagain.Ihave
tobelievethatthosecapableoflovingwith
suchintensity,oflivingeachmomentcom-
pletely,mustdeservetoloveagain.”
ThenextmorningIhad10e-mails.The
mendidn’tevenseemtomindthatIwasa
30-year-oldwidowwithtwobabies.
I starteddating,butknew Iwouldn’t
settleforlessthanErikwouldwantforme,
forlessthanIwantedformyself.Icouldn’t
bringhimbackorreplacehim,butErikhad
taughtmehowtolove,andIknewIwould
recognizethatfeelingwhenIfounditwith
someoneelse.
Timepassed,andafteracoupleofsix-
monthrelationships,twoyearsofworkshop-
ping sections of my
writing,andtheeven-
tualresurrectionofmy
photographybusiness,
alongcametheseren-
dipitouse-mailthrough
Match .com. A long
cameEvan.
WhenIintroduced
TatianaandKeira to
Evan and his eight-
year-old son, Jason,
theconnectionwasinstant,andinlessthan
twoyears,weweremarried.Soonafter,at
thecourthousewhereEvanlegallyadopted
thegirls,Tatiana,fouryearsoldatthetime,
said,“Mommy,doyouthinkDaddyEriksent
Daddytous?”
“Yes,mylove,”Itoldher.“Ithinkhedid.”
Erikhadalwayspromisedtotakecareof
us,andIbelievethathesentEvantousso
thathecouldkeephispromise.
OnlymonthsafterImetEvan,he’dsaid,
“It’sallrightifyouneverlovemeasmuchas
youloveErik.”
ButwhatI’vediscoveredisthatbecause
oflovingErik,becauseoflosinghimwithout
notice,IamabletoloveEvanevenmore.
I’mabletoloveTatiana,Keira,Jason,and
ournewbaby,Julian,evenmore.
Now,onthisTennesseeValleycliff,where
IscatteredErik’sashes,Ihavefoundthe
meaning inmytragedy.Erik’sdeathhas
taughtmetolivelifewithtwicetheinten-
sity.Throughmymemoir,Drop Dead Life: A
Pregnant Widow’s Heartfelt and Often Comic
Journey through Death, Birth, and Rebirth,I
hopetoremindotherstodothesame.
AsIadmiretheseundulatingmountains,
Irealizethatevenbehindthemysterious
fog,thereisalwayslight.
The only way to get past this, I knew, was to walk
straight into my pain. I vowed to take hold of my
sadness, wrestling it like a wild rattlesnake, so that
I could eventually be a good mother again.
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