MARIA ROUGVIE: 1965-2024

I’m very, very sorry to say that, on Sunday, July 28th, Maria Rougvie made what she described as her “Irish Exit” from this plane of existence.

If you’re a friend of Maria’s and you’re finding out about this here, I am so sorry. I tried my best to call and / or create phone trees to let everyone I could think of know before this post went up. I’m sure I missed some of you, but it has been a chaotic time. Please forgive me.

There is no service planned at this time, per her wishes. If you want to do something in her memory, please read on. Nash and I are trying to think of a celebration worthy of her, but that’s a tall order and not imminent. We’ll do our best to let you know when it happens.

If you knew her, I hope you’ll read this all the way through (it long). It may help answer the many questions that are no doubt flooding your brain.

Without question, she was the best person I ever knew. If you knew her, you get it. She was always looking out for others, taking burdens from people, trying to help. She was the best mom who raised a fantastic son. She did everything in her power to show him the world and was the best example of how to be in it. She loved every minute of that journey. She took on every challenge, no matter how weighty, with fierce determination – and she always figured it out. She was always remarkable and resilient. Imagine the comfort of having a person like that at your side.

Unfortunately, her knees were not as strong. They both should’ve been replaced a decade ago. The docs didn’t want to do it because she was so young, and replacements wear out. Replacing a knee replacement at an older age has a perilous recovery.

She’d gotten cortisone shots that briefly helped, but finally her cartilage was gone in both knees and the docs agreed it couldn’t wait. Then the pandemic hit, so everything was on hold.

During that time, her father was declining so Maria was flying back and forth from Boston to Minnesota, spending weeks at a time helping her family. During that span, she worked at three different advertising jobs, one of which was ridiculously demanding. She rarely complained, internalizing what we now understand was debilitating pain.

She had the worst knee replaced in October of last year. The docs said she’d be back to full normal function in time for Nash’s graduation in December. It didn’t work out that way. She couldn’t extend her leg fully. We saw specialists. Docs just shrugged and said her range of motion was acceptable.

She was angry but still talked about replacing the other knee. She dreaded it being as bad or worse than the first.

Nash moved out in February. She started a job at 21grams right after, which was far less stressful. Her beloved dog Ginger passed in April. All of this is part of life, but it was a lot of upheaval in a relatively compact period.

We’d talked about moving back to Minnesota, about vacations. But we never booked those fall trips. In retrospect, for a mega-Virgo like my wife, that was a sign. She never gave a hint this was in the works, but, according to her note she had it planned for a long time.

I was at ComiCon. The first night it felt like I shouldn’t be there, that something was off. I didn’t know what was wrong, but the feeling was strong. I called her and said I might fly home. She said, “stay, you’ll get into the groove.” In the letter she left, Maria said, “that’s how close we were, you knew something wasn’t right.” She's right, we were that attuned.

I’m not beating myself up. If I’d come home, I may have delayed her decision, but wouldn’t have prevented it. As I said, she was determined.

Within a day of seeing each other for the first time, we knew we belonged together. We kissed for the first time in March, got engaged that June and were married by November. In the 28 years we were married, we had maybe two moments of conflict. We never had a fight. Ever.

In the end, she didn’t think her quality of life was ever going to be what she wanted it to be. She didn’t think she’d be able to travel. She hated the state of the world, social media and Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Rather than decline and become a burden to anyone (she never would have been a burden, but this was her thinking), she decided to go out on her own terms. With all my heart, I wish that wasn’t the case, but I understand and respect her choice. Even if I’d have known 28 years ago it would end like this, I still would’ve enthusiastically taken that ride.

Of course, Nash and I are shell-shocked and devastated, but we are together and leaning on each other, and that is working. We appreciate all our friends and family members who have offered help. We have people checking on us, making sure we eat, etc.

We are processing this together, on our terms. We especially appreciate everyone respecting our privacy. Rest assured, we will need your help and take you up on your very kind offers when we are ready. If it seems like we’re pushing you away now, don’t take offense. We are doing what is best for us. Thank you for understanding.

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading. I’m sure many of you have more questions and I’ll do my best to answer them when I’m ready.

I understand the impulse is to leave a “so sorry for your loss” comment - please don’t - Maria would’ve hated that.

We understand how hard this has hit everyone. We are sorry for ALL of our collective loss; it doesn’t need to be stated.

If you want to like the post, great. If you want to leave a story about her or pictures, even better.

We will all be sad for a while, but in the end, what matters are our memories of the time we shared with her. I urge you to think of those memories, that laughter, and most of all, that love.

She was a goddamn magical unicorn, and we were lucky to walk the earth with her.

PS: In lieu of flowers or anything in that vein (which Nash & I don’t want or need), Maria asked that people to donate to Act Blue in her memory. I hope you’ll consider that for her.