Abel Wang Death – Obituary | Abel Wang Has Died

The most special person in the world is gone. My twin flame. Some of you knew him as Abel or “Microsoft’s Abel Wang.” Some of you knew him as my Mr. Nina. About 15 years ago, I walked into a coffee shop with some friends from aerobics’ class. I saw the back of this guy who was standing at the counter and went “Whoa! What’s going on here?” He wasn’t dressed like all the other men I saw in Cypress, Texas. Instead of a ball cap and a golf shirt, he was wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants, a long-sleeve white t-shirt and combat boots. His nearly black hair flowed down past his waist. As usual, I was in the middle of making a joke when I walked in with my friends. He turned his face toward me, and I saw that he was laughing at my joke. His smile was dazzling, and his dark brown eyes shown in a way that made my breath catch. As we started to become coffee shop friends over time, I assumed he was much younger than he actually was. I figured wearing his hair that way with all those teenagers (and recent teenagers) coming in and wanting to talk to him, he was about 21. He was the kind of guy who could wear a silver ring on every finger, a bunch of metal and leather bracelets, and a pair of John Lennon sunglasses and look like that was exactly what he should be wearing. Anyway, that’s how our friendship started and, within days, I was wishing he would sign some kind of Friends Forever contract saying he would never move away, never be gone from my life. Whenever I went to the coffee shop and he was there, I left with a huge smile on my face. Over time, I learned he was a 30-something father and software developer who played with a rock band for fun. And eventually he did end up signing a contract with me. A few actually, starting with a marriage certificate. To say he was a soulmate feels like an understatement. I would sing three notes of a song (from any part of the song) and he’d join in, knowing exactly what I was singing. I could tap out or slap out the rhythm of a melody on him without singing it and he could identify the song. We had lots of silly and dramatic catchphrases. When I told him “no” about something or acted irritated with him, he’d yell, “But I stole CHEESE for you!” (The cheese was free in the airport lounge when he went on trips, but he liked to think of himself as an outlaw.) I would get after him for throwing his dirty socks absolutely everywhere in the house. Always mischievous, he would leave a pair for me to find under my pillow when he left for a business trip and when I mentioned it on the phone, make me admit how sweet that was. (Lucky for me, he had no foot/body odor.) When I pushed on his nose, he would beep. If he was thinking or talking about something else and didn’t think to beep, I would say, “Oh, no! You don’t love me anymore!” He would tell me to push it again and, when I did, he would BEEEEEEEEEEEEP at the top of his lungs. He didn’t just love me in spite of my weirdities. He reveled in each new quirk he discovered. I’d never felt so loved for my nutty little self. When we got married, I’d been worried about how he and my daughter would get along living in the same house. They liked each other a lot but living together is something totally different and she was just entering junior high—when girls are the most fearsome. Abel somehow figured out how to set the perfect tone with her. He made himself useful to her by being her 24/7 overqualified tech support, the guy who ran to Walmart at midnight to get printer ink for the school project she needed to turn in the next day, and her coconspirator when she wanted to talk me into going for frozen yogurt. They shared their music with each other, so she became a fan of heavy metal along with her teen pop. This is also why I often found Abel working in his office to the sounds of the Cheetah Girls and Disney soundtracks. His son came to see us on the weekends and I was surprised at how well everyone got along. My daughter, who was three years older, would often quote the unique things her new stepbrother said many times the following weeks. By the time my daughter got to high school, she had gradually become more and more our daughter. He helped her study her math and science–algebra, geometry, pre-Cal, calculus, physics, and chemistry. They sat at the kitchen table where I could hear them. I often wondered, “Why are they laughing? What’s so enjoyable about calculus?” Abel was also responsible for her career choice. After working with her on math for a few months he said, “I don’t know if she’d be interested, but she has the kind of brain to be a software developer.” That never would have entered my mind, but he was right. She happily followed in his footsteps. When his son moved in with us, he was about to enter his freshman year of high school. She was about to be a senior. I held my breath thinking the peace we’d all enjoyed on the weekends would probably end when they were forced to share the same house every day. Luckily, I was wrong. The kids kept being great to each other, and we ended up with a fun, quirky family dynamic we could thoroughly enjoy. Both working from home much of the time, Abel and I were joyfully codependent. Throughout the day, we’d have to tell each other in real-time what was going on in the news, or his office politics, or my writer’s groups, or my book. He wanted me to go to dinners with him and his techie friends even though I didn’t know what they were talking about, and, often, I did. I also became his chauffer and maker of all personal appointments. He became my knower of all things (even the least bit) technical. He bought me computers (because the one from just 2 years before was SO outdated now). He also kept me in 5 different colors of Comfy Feet slippers to protect my cold, hurty little feet because I had an obsessive need for them to match my clothes. If we met at a restaurant, I never had trouble finding him. I just walked up to anyone who worked there and said, “I’m looking for my husband…” They’d give me a questioning look. Then I’d say, “Long-haired Chinese guy.” Without fail, they would smile broadly (clearly remembering him) and say, “Right this way!” I’m so grateful to have experienced the passionate love of my entire being by such a unique and talented person. I’ll miss him in so many ways. nBut he didn’t want a bunch of sad stuff happening in relation to his dying, and I don’t want to read a post full of “I’m so sorry,” comments. However, I do invite you to share a picture of Abel you like or what you enjoyed most about him or a story, even a story I told about him that you remember if you didn’t know him personally. (I’m serious. I’m deleting any depressing comments.) I need to hold onto the happiness he gave me in order to move on without him. I’ll start with some of my favorite pictures. *If you have my address, please don’t send flowers. I’m allergic and I’m going to need to move things out, not in, anyway. In lieu of flowers, please make donations to Girls Who Code | Home. Abel was a great supporter of women in computer science as well as a wonderful mentor to our daughter.