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.