A Year Later

I'm feeling it necessary to write something here today, but my words seem inadequate, and after writing and deleting, writing and deleting, I'm just going to say this: Jeff is missed everyday by many, many people. The positive effect he had on me and our little boy will be forever felt, and partly because of the strong relationship we shared, I have slowly been able to put my life back together. If you knew Jeff, please take a moment to remember him today.

JD

I've been neglectful with my camera this summer, but I'm going to buy some new batteries and turn over a new leaf. This first picture is from May, and the second from July.

On My Mind

Jeff has been on my mind a lot lately, which has caused an especially intense spell of grief. Negativity has been swarming around me like a pack of fruit flies, and I can’t seem to shake it. I just wanted to point out that I’m not always happy or positive or upbeat, and that there are days when I’m furious at the universe for dealing us such a crappy hand. But, as much as I’m stymied by this whole ordeal, I can’t even begin to describe how badly I feel for Jeff and JD.

After Jeff got sick, and he realized that his time here on earth may be short lived, the only thing he worried about was not having the chance to watch JD grow up. I can’t tell you the how painful it was to listen to him try to talk about it. Jeff never got the chance to be the Dad he wanted to be, and now I only get to imagine the joy that I know would be on his face if he had the chance to hear JD say that his “name is Jeff David Eckert.”

Despite the fact that JD has several father-figures in his life, my poor little boy will never know the love that only a father can give his son. What do I do about that? How long will it be before he figures this out? JD already understands about family, and he knows that there should be a Mommy and a Daddy, but I don’t think his 2 year-old brain comprehends what has happened. I’m trying not to give too much significance to Jeff’s absence because I don’t want him to feel more slighted than necessary. If I can concentrate on teaching him to embrace what he has instead of mourning for what he doesn’t have, then maybe, just maybe, I can protect him from some of the pain that comes with losing a father. Of course, for me to teach him that, I have to stop mourning for all that has been lost, which is easier said than done.

I am whining today. I know this, and I guess I need to say that most of the time I’m still okay. I am loving the closeness that I have with JD, and he has many people in his life that love him with a fierceness that is obvious to me when I watch them with him. I know I am very lucky for my family and friends, including some people I’ve met or reconnected with since Jeff’s death. Hopefully, I can continue moving forward, without too many more days of feeling that I’ve come undone.

I’ll have to go back and read some of my blog. Sometimes I think I’m just repeating myself. Oh well, I guess if I need to write things more than once, then that’s what I need to do.

Saturday Morning Musings

I have the urge to write this morning, and it's probably because I just read the introduction to our next book club selection, "October Light," by John Gardner. It's my first book by this author, but the introduction, written by Tom Bissel, has me rather intrigued. BUT, that's not what I'm getting the urge to write about. The book is prefaced by the following passage from a letter, written in 1822 from Thomas Jefferson to John Adams.

To turn to the news of the day, it seems that the cannibals of Europe are going to eat one another again. A war between Russia and Turkey is like the battle of the kite and the snake; whichever destroys the other leaves a destroyer the less for the world. This pugnacious humor of mankind seems to be the law of his nature, one of the obstacles to too great multiplication provided in the mechanism of the Universe. The cocks of the hen yard kill one another; bears, bulls, rams do the same, and when the horse, in his wild state, kills all the young males until he's worn down with age and war, some youth kills him.

I hope we shall prove how much happier for the man the Quaker policy is, and that the life of the feeder is better than that of the fighter: and it is some consolation that the desolation by these maniacs of one part of the earth is the means of improving it in other parts. Let the latter be our office: and let us milk the cow, while the Russian holds her by the horns, and the Turk by the tail.

First, let me say that I am not a history buff, and if Jeff were here, he would be laughing at me, for attempting to write about such a prominent figure from the past. Really, though, all that I want to say is that I've often wondered what makes certain people stand out in historical terms. Is it because they were really great, with progressive ideas that changed the world; or was it because they were in the right place at the right time? Of course, the little history I do remember, reminds me that Thomas Jefferson had all sort of ideas about all sorts of things, but after reading this portion of his letter to John Adams, I just have to say "WOW."

Unfortunately, it seems that his Quaker ideology has not caught on quite like he hoped, and that the laws of nature he speaks of, are just that; AND despite humans thinking themselves the superior species on this planet, humankind as a whole is really no different than the rest of the animal kingdom. However, I still love this passage, and I love the hope that emanates from it.

There, now that I got that out, (I hope you're still reading...lol) I can talk a little bit about JD and me. We are having a great summer. The weather has been fantastic and the sun exceptionally healing. I try to talk to JD a little bit everyday, about Daddy, and we continue to kiss his picture and tell him we love him before bedtime. Unfortunately, I know that JD's memories of Jeff are fading fast. I hope that over the course of his childhood he can glean enough information from me and the rest of our family to be able to feel his Dad's essence. I've said before that Jeff made me a better person, and despite his not having anymore personal contact with Jeff, I want JD to benefit from knowing his father through all of us.

Facebook Post and Other Stuff

My friend Amy (from Team Gleason) posted this quote as her Facebook status, and I am stealing it. My facebook friends have already seen it, because I shared her post on my page. I tear up every time I read it. It's just SO true.

Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are… Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect Tomorrow. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in my pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return." ... - Mary Jean Iron

I haven't posted here for a while, and it's because I'm finding sharing my grief (and my new life) publicly, to be very difficult. However, I miss writing this blog, and I miss hearing from the readers. So, maybe I'll try to make a return to the blogging world.

Anyway, the other day I had a good, although difficult and sad experience while out shopping. After handing my credit card to the clerk, she took a look at me and said, something like, "Can I ask you something...??? Your husband???" And I just shook my head yes. She proceeded to tell me that her husband passed away this year, from cancer, and that she found my blog while he was sick. She said it helped enormously in that she knew that she and her husband weren't the only ones. The grief and pain of a recent loss was obvious on her face, and I managed not to break down. She gave me a hug, another thank you, and I went on my way. I guess I know that I should continue writing here, because there are other grieving people who might benefit from having their feelings "normalized." I have become friends with a two other women whose stories are eerily similar to my own, and I know for a fact that my actions and emotions are real, raw and completely normal.

I'm going to try to work up the nerve to start writing again, about what I'm going through, about how Jeff is still omnipresent in my everyday life, and about my new "normal." In the mean time, take the quote above to heart, and if you're lucky enough to be somewhere in your life, where most days are normal ones, then please, oh please, rejoice in it.

Anybody There?

I know I've been neglecting the blog, but things have been pretty crazy. My house has been sold, and we've moved in next to my Dad. The whole sale, and subsequent move went fast. Really fast. I had a ton of help from my amazing group of family and friends, but moving is still a pain in the rear. I'm pretty much unpacked now, and JD loves having immediate access to Papa, Polly, Danielle, the pond, numerous dogs and several horses, including new a foal, born yesterday morning who has been named Steemer.

I feel like I'm finally home again, and I know that the decision to sell my house was a good one. For the most part, I am happy and content, but I'm sure that you can guess that happiness doesn't mean that the grief is gone. It shows up in predictable moments, but it also hits me completely unexpectedly. My body aches when I think that JD will not know his Daddy personally, and it aches even more when I think about what Jeff is missing. Thirty is just too young to die, but all the wishing, hoping and praying in the world is not going to bring him back.

As I write this, I am really at a loss for words. How can someone be here and well one day, and then sick, very sick for a long time, and then gone? And why can't my subconscious let me dream about him? I've seen glimpses of my mom in dreams over the years, but those dreams are few and far between. I haven't had one about Jeff yet, and I wonder when he'll turn up. Do I need to grieve more or grieve less to see him in a dream? And when I do, will I see healthy Jeff...the Jeff that I miss, or will it be sick Jeff....a Jeff that I loved, but don't miss?

I have a picture on my phone of Jeff's IV pole in the hospital. It's just a pole with a bunch of bags hanging from it, and I took the picture because I couldn't believe how much stuff was being pumped into Jeff's body. I don't know why I don't delete the picture, but when JD and I are looking at the pictures, so he can "see JD," he always points to that picture and says, "Daddy!" It's just a picture of his pole, there is nothing else in the picture. Ugh! How sad is that?

Really, I just needed to get some things out today. I'm okay.

JD

Heading in the Right Direction

I was going to write about health care reform, but found a blogger that gets paid to do so. This post was written a few days before we knew whether or not the bill would pass. As you probably already know, the bill passed last night, and although it is not perfect, it's a step in the right direction. (Well, it's a step in the right direction if you believe that EVERYONE has a right to affordable health care, the unlucky should not face financial ruin in the case of serious illness, and that medical care should be more effective and less expensive.)

Please read this:

http://www.tnr.com/blog/the-treatment/closing-arguments

Struggling with Guilt

I have been writing and re-writing this post for days. I'm struggling with some feelings, and I'm not sure what's appropriate to share, and what isn't. Because I've gotten tons of e-mails from leukemia-people who read this blog, and those people seem to have been helped by things I've said, I'm going to lean towards sharing more, instead of less. Thank you, by the way, leukemia-people, for letting me know when something I've said has touched a nerve.

My problem is this; I am feeling really well. I'm sleeping well, getting back into shape, taking vitamins, eating well and generally, just feeling like my old self. My old self was very happy, and I am happy again.

Everyday, I wake up and I'm thankful that I don't have to spend my day worrying about Jeff. I have life to look forward to, and although I am still practicing living in the moment, I'm now also able to look forward to a promising future that's not riddled with leukemia. I've come to the realization that regular life is pretty easy, if you let it be. Stress only takes over if you allow it to, and worrying about something does not change its outcome. Some things are bound to just happen the way that they happen, and there's nothing we can do about it.

Obviously, my happiness and ease-of-living come with a price, and that price is guilt. I am here to see JD grow up, and to be happy about it, and Jeff is not. Why did Jeff get sick? Why not me? Again, these questions don't have answers and it's pointless to ask them. I can wish all I want that Jeff never got sick, but it changes nothing. He did get sick. He did deteriorate right in front of my eyes. And, despite a will to live that amazed me, when his body had nothing left, he died.

So, do I have any right to be happy right now? I'm not sure I do. But what I do know, is that I have a beautiful little boy that looks just like his Daddy, and that little boy is happy. He's full of life and energy and joy. I have to believe that Jeff would want me to be happy for JD's sake, so I will continue to laugh, play, and love like there is no tomorrow.

I've Posted This Before, But I Think it's Worth Another Look

Take a chance. Like people first, ask questions later. See if it doesn't open the world to you in a new way. See if the light you shine on others isn't reflected back on you a hundred-fold.

Kent Nerburn from Letters To My Son: A Father's Wisdom on Manhood, Life, and Love

Love This

I took this video about a month or so before Jeff's first relapse...back in January 2009. He was just starting to feel like himself, and he looked fantastic. As much as it hurts, I love remembering a healthy Jeff.

Bahamas

I'm feeling better, and a 5 day trip to the Bahamas did wonders for us. The sun felt amazing, the water park was the best I've ever been to, and there was lots of birds for JD to chase all over the island. I'll post a few more pictures as soon as get them transferred to the computer.

Speaking of Memories

I just stumbled upon an idea. At some point when things stop being so crazy, I'm going to make a photo book for JD about his Daddy. Because I can design this book online, I'll be able add little blurbs about Jeff. So, if you have a favorite memory or just something you really liked about Jeff, that you would like me to share with JD one day, please post a comment here. If you're shy about posting publicly, you can send an e-mail to jmw280@gmail.com.

Thanks!

Chugging Along

After being really healthy for quite some time, my body sort of crashed on me. I'm two weeks into a head and chest cold, and I am finally starting to feel some relief. I think that the stress of the past two years accumulated into something that was bound to end in a bit of a meltdown. I'm still having some trouble sleeping, but hopefully, things will start to resolve themselves soon. I figure that it's all part of the grieving process, and I have no other choice but to endure it.

I just spent some time looking at pictures of Jeff before he got sick. His smile was SO big. It easily lit up his entire face, including his beautiful blue eyes. When I look at pre-leukemia photos, I can just hear him laughing at SpongeBob or singing "4th of July." It is refreshing and healing to remember Jeff before he got sick.

Now that I can do so without crying, I think I'll let some of our good memories flood my brain.

"Strength"

You may have noticed that a lot of people comment about how "strong" I seem to be. Really, I'm not much different than most people. I'm just playing the cards that I was dealt in the best way that I know how. I cry and I sob and I ask, "why me?," and I really ask, "why Jeff?" But guess what? There are no answers to those questions, and it does me no good to sit and contemplate them.

Back in July after Jeff was released from the hospital after his first round of "Relapse #2 Chemo", I hit a very low point. I felt like I could not move...like I couldn't possibly go on for another day. I didn't know how I would attend one more Day Hospital visit, or watch Jeff get one more biopsy taken from his bone, or his lung, or skin, or his where-ever. I did not want to hear the doctor say that it would be reasonable for Jeff to forgo treatment and go on a vacation in the South Pacific before he gets too ill....before palliative treatments would have to start. (We did hear those exact sentiments from his doctor back in July, after finding out the disease had infiltrated his spinal fluid. Jeff decided that giving up was not an option, regardless of the odds. Despite my mantra that Jeff was a lover, not a fighter, he fought like hell to the bitter end.)

To combat this near depression, I started coming home every week to work and take a break from hospital life. I didn't like leaving Jeff, because I knew that he preferred JD and me to be there, but I wasn't going to do much good anywhere if I didn't take regular breaks. I was, and am, only human. There were times when the stress of it all was eating me alive. Like one of my AML-widow friends (yes, I now have widow friends) says, "it was like living with a gun to your husband's head for two years." The indefinite anxiety-ridden state of not knowing is a very hard place to be.

These trips home saved my sanity. Yes, traveling for 8 hours every week with a toddler was sometimes a challenge, but every trip home helped me to help Jeff.