Thank You To You All

I knew there were people out there that follow this blog. I figured for the most part it was friends and family; however, I have been proven wrong more times than not when it comes to this area of my life. Recently I have gotten several comments on the blog about how the story of "us" and what I have learned about myself, life and everything in between is in a word helping people.

I started this blog just a few months after we found out Christopher had cancer as a way to keep family informed of his progress. Then after he passed away I debated very long and hard about shutting the blog down. "What is the point?" I often thought to myself. Christopher is gone and who wants to hear about woman trying to make it through the day? Then one day after he passed I got an email from a friend who wanted to know if I was ok. I hadn't posted on the blog, Facebook or Twitter in several weeks.

I read that simple little email over and over and as I did I got this mental image of my friends and family sitting behind their computers, wide-eyed, continuously clicking the refresh button hoping that I would break my silence and tell the world I was ok. I remember sitting at my computer halfway slouched in my chair swiveling it back and forth wondering how do I spin grief in a positive light? So I wrote and re-wrote; then re-wrote. I didn't want to sound like I couldn't handle it, but I also didn't want to sound like I was hopped up on happy pills and 3 buckles away from a padded room. So I closed my eyes and just wrote what came from my heart.

There have been several times that after re-reading a post I question if I should even post it. Sometimes I feel like it's a little too much of my heart or soul to blast out over the web; but then again if that post touched one person - then it was meant to be out there. Often times I am told by friends and family that the blog is sometimes "a little hard to swallow" and when they tell me that I just want to tell them - "what I'm going through at times is a little hard to swallow" But I don't ever tell them that, I just say I'm sorry and move on.

Truth be known these post are the little pieces that make up me. The lessons in life that God, the universe (again whatever it is you believe in) afforded me to have. Sometimes these lessons are bittersweet like the woman I met out on the anniversary of Christopher's passing or they are hard and I struggle through them like the news of Ethan's little pre-school friend's Dad. Either way they are parts of life that I choose to look upon and reflect. The one thing I don't believe in are coincidences. Everything in life is brought to us for a reason and what we are left with is a choice. Do we choose to reflect upon it, move it to the side to look back on later or just toss it to the side as if it meant nothing? For me - I reflect and when I'm not sure what it means I write it down in my little book that I carry around to let time and my mind dwell and wrap around what it might possibly mean to me. Either way it ends up here. My revelations if you will.

Lately, I have found that there are more people than I thought that read this blog and you leave comments that touch the inner most fiber of my soul. One person wrote, "keep talking" and all I could think about was how honored I was that this person took time out to write to me - to share their inner most thoughts with a perfect stranger. Someone else commented that she was so moved that she texted her hubby a simple, "I love you". I cried on that one. I know the feeling of being so moved that you just want to reach out to the one you love and just let them know that you "love them". And you tell them this simple I love you because to expanded upon the complex feelings that you hold in your heart would take you days, so a simple "I love you" just sums it all up. All your comments warm my heart for the one and main reason that your comments mean that the story of "us"; the stories of a single mom trying to figure it all out as she goes, the love that she holds in her heart for the man that was taken too soon and the son that is the greatest blessing in my (and Christopher's) life; keeps Christopher's spirit and memory going. So one day I can show Ethan when he is older that even though his dad is gone, his life and the lessons we all learned from his passing touched the lives around him.

I guess what I am trying to say is, "Thank You to you all." Thank you for reading, for sharing your comments - they move me in a way that I don't think I could ever put words to at this moment. But trust me when I say - I read them and cherish one-by-one for what each one means to me. Thank you for taking time to follow this blog and most of all for leaving your thoughts with me. Again - words could never give the proper thank you, but trust me when I say it comes from my heart, expressed through my spirit and expounded upon through my soul.

Pax to you all...

April 18th - Happy Birthday My Love

To My Love,

Happy birthday Love. Today you would have turned 35 and even though you would have put up a fuss that I not make such a big deal about today - you know I would have. There are times that I wish your Mom were still with us so I could call her and thank her for bringing such a wonderful man into the world. I would give anything to tell her what an incredible person, man and father she raised. To explain to her in infinite detail how you were so gentle and kind; yet strong and forceful when you need to be. To expand upon endless boundaries how I love you in all the ways you were and wanted to be. I would give anything to give her a hug to let her know how special you were and are to my life, to tell her that I would climb to the tallest point on earth and shout to the heavens that I was proud to be your wife. That even though your gone your lessons in life still teach me daily about what it means to have had someone who cared so deeply for me and our child and with such love and vigor. You truly were one of a kind Christopher.

I have to say my love that I have done allot of growing since this time last year. Last year I sat in my room after Ethan went to bed and I cried; God I think I cried for hours. The idea that your birthday came and went and you weren’t here to celebrate it with me and Ethan was the strangest feeling I had never felt before and trying to put words on it would only down play the feeling that resided within me. However; time, therapy, whatever the variable was that did it, made this year different. This year I didn’t feel the pain of not being able to celebrate your birthday, but instead I embraced it as another milestone; a different sort or milestone. Today marks the day that I spent the same amount of time without you that I did standing by your side in this battle with cancer.

I’ll be honest love, the idea that your birthday marks this milestone is very strange and sometimes in my mind very unsettling, but then again you always had a thing with dates and getting things just the way you wanted them so the meaning meant more than anyone could fathom. So I chalk this up to just one more thing you “got” your way. And to be honest, I don’t really think it could have happened on a better day. Because I will remember this day with all the love and hope that I hold in my heart.

Love you were a fighter. I knew that; hell, I more than knew that. Anyone that really knew you knew that. In fact, that is the one thing that most people remember about you; your spirit and will to fight for what you believe in. No matter what other people though or what ever way the tides of thought went, you fought for what was right and you never took the easy road of just agreeing to agree. One of the things I have tried this year to do is to hold on to your fighting spirit to help me get through this. To never just go with the flow and well there are times when I fail and I fall into the traps my mind sets for me of people thinking I should be this way or do things at this time and it takes everything I have to try and fight off those thoughts. I’m always trying to think, “if Christopher was here what would he tell me” and I always come back to…. “d, you think and worry to much”. I can hear you voice and see your gentle face when this radiates between my ears. But what can I say; I’m your little worrier. I always have and as I try not to be, it’s hard and one of my personal mental battles that I still to this day I am working on.

This year has made me a little rougher around the edges, I won’t lie. My sarcasm that made you roll over laughing is a little more sarcastic (well if you compare “little” to something you get at one of those membership bulk stores). But my heart and the love that I have for you is still there, still loving every moment that we shared together – that will never go away. One of the lessons I have learned this year is that just when you think the worst is over and life has given me a chance to breathe and take in what I have learned – it’s not. There is always a new curve ball in the form of new struggles as a single parent, places and feelings that my mind seems to dwell and just what life itself throws me everyday. I have spent almost every walking moment that I have a free time to think contemplating what all of this means to me. And my answer to all of this seems to be one that is ever changing. No one answer is the right answer and the answer I come up with on a Monday often changes by Tuesday. However the one thing that keeps me sane in all of this is the fact that you used to tell me over and over when something would drown my mind and consume it – “you do what makes you feel good and what you know is right, hell be damned.” And well – hell has been damned a few times… But I am still standing and for most part I think I have done all right. I think you would be proud of me, I know I am of my self.

You know my love, for as much as I would give up the world to have you by my side; I also know that you are in place where there is so much light and love that it fills my heart with peace. And even thought there are nights when I lay in our bed and reach out for your pillow. I don’t think I will ever get completely used to the idea of not being able to feel you on my finger tips or seeing your cocky grin that just made my days (and my heart) fill with a sense of joy as if there was secret inside joke that only you and I got and understood. But through all of this; I also know that you are in a place where love and light fills your heart, a place where you can still look down and see the progress and strides that Ethan takes everyday in life. And there are times when I think – “how in the hell am I suppose to do this all by my self?” This is when I close my eyes and feel you all around me, thickening the air that I breath, reaching in and dancing around my heart, mind and soul; comforting me the same way you did before all of this. Thank you my love for all the memories you left with me to share with Ethan one day.

Happy birthday my love. I love you.

-d

A Year & Half Later

Today marks 18 months from Christopher's passing and for one of the first times in a long time; I can't say that it only feels like a month ago. To be honest it feels at times like it's been five years. I often find my self looking at pictures of him around the house and thinking back to when the photo was taken - it seems so long ago. Even longer when I try to think back to a time when there was no cancer (or at least that we knew of at the time).

The 18th this month marks what would have been Christopher's 35th birthday and like in good ole "d" form there will be a post in the form of a letter to him on that day. So for today I just want to keep this little post brief; trust me there is nice long one in the works coming soon. But for now; I'm keeping it simple. 18 months today I lost the man I love to cancer, but in his death I choose to find meaning and hope that he is in a better place with no pain, no cancer and most of all filled with light and love. And that gives me a peace that warms my heart from the inside out.

It's Not What We Have; It's What We Believe In

One of my fondest memories of Christopher is him sitting in bed with his laptop, eloquently named "Iron Chef", listening to music and sharing with me what it was that he loved about the music that filled his life. One of his favorite games was to play a snip-it of a song and see if I knew the title and who sang it. For the most part we shared similar taste in music; however, he thought there were times that my taste in rock where a little harder than he preferred (what can I say I'm a rocker at heart). But then again I never really could get into country music as much as he did (and he did own a ten gallon hat and at some point in his life I think he even owned a pair of Rocky Mountain jeans, but I digress). This is what made us; well us. It was truly one of the things we shared in our relationship that made me grin from ear-to-ear knowing that no matter what; when words alone could not explain to the other how we felt there was always a song and/or melody to help guide the way to the others feelings.

When he passed away the idea of that little white "Iron Chef" sitting next to the bed was a visual that was hard for me gaze upon; so one night I shut it down and put it up in my closet on the shelf that I could reach without a ladder. And I did that for a reason. Let's just say, I didn't want to see the daily reminder of one the memories that I missed almost hourly.

Several months ago I pulled out the laptop. I remember pulling it down and thinking that I should have put something around it because the dust was so thick I wasn't sure if it would even start up. I powered it up and gazed at his desktop; not really sure what I was going to find or if I even wanted to “find” anything. I saw the icon of the hard drive with the name "Iron Chef" under it. I remembered the night I set up his computer and him asking why I called it that. I joked at the time that it was the first thing that I thought of and yet over time it became a very appropriate name for that little machine (but that’s for a whole another post). Looking through this glimpse in time it was like his life had stopped for him. His files where still in their “Need to work on” or “Need to burn to disk” folders. I found his resume and cover letter from when he was looking for a job. I stumbled on to a word document entitled "B/C I Say So" where he had worked on ways to explain to future employers’ that he had cancer, but how he wasn't going to let it stop him. Loved all the reasons and each one was a very Christopher thing to say. One of them was - "I'm a fighter, enough said. This won’t get in my way."

Then I opened his music library. To be honest; later that night I thought it was a mistake to do that because what I found made me cry. In his iTunes were all the playlist that he created. There was one for Ethan, filled with music that was gentle and only Christopher would think of them for Ethan. There was John Lennon’s "Baby Boy", "Somewhere Under The Rainbow" and other music from the Garden State soundtrack. There was a playlist entitled, "My Love" and well it was filled with all of the music that meant something to us; the first song we danced to, music he used to play that he said reminded him of his feeling for me, and music that I used to tell him was my mantra for what ever it was that I was experiencing in life at that time. There was music in there that I knew he didn't like, but it was in there - I'm sure because he knew at the time it was what I listened to all the time and in turn that reminded him of me. Just another testament of the love that we shared and of all the things he did that made me love him the way I did and do.

Then I saw another playlist that made my heart stop. It was called "Chemo's Mental Warfare". He always said one of his greatest fights in cancer was his hope and belief that he could do anything he put his mind to. I stared at this playlist for several minutes just wondering if I even wanted to see what songs where in there. Did I really want to know? For a brief moment I felt like a voyeur peering into the last moments of his life without asking. But then again - I was his wife - but then again do I really want to see this - but then again he always shared his music with me - but, but, but....

I closed the laptop that night without looking at this mysterious playlist. The physical pain that I felt in my heart told me I wasn't ready to look at it; just looking at the other playlist was too much for one night. I think a week past before I got up enough guts (or it might have been liquid courage, who knows) to look into this part of Christopher's life that he kept guarded by this little white box. It was filled with music that took my breath away. Bon Jovi's "It's My Life", Jack Johnson "Better Together", Guns-N-Roses "Sweet Child of Mine", Aerosmith "Back in the Saddle", and the one that made me cry - 3 Doors Down "It's Not My Time". Why might you ask this song was the trigger to a waterfall of tears? Well one night I came home from work and told Christopher of a song that made me think of him; that it was his song in a way. And even though we joked about it being his song all the time – it never really went any further than our playful banter. However, no matter how much banter we lobed back and forth; I guess he thought it too because it was played more often than any of the other songs in his playlist. It was like he sat in chemo and put the song on repeat. I'm sure you can guess the meaning of the song, but in a nut shell it's about someone being put in a situation that might bring them to the end of what they thought was the perfect life and well...."it's not their time" and they will fight to prove it (so-to-speak).

That night I hugged that little “Iron Chef” and missed my love; and yet I felt like he was there still sharing his music with me. Showing me his feelings for our son, the love we had and the faith and hope had to beat cancer so he could share more time with us. Again, this wasn't the plan that God, the universe, whatever you believe in afforded us to have. But what it did give me was a glimpse back into his life to a time that I will always hold and carry in my heart. To a time when there were talks of what our future holds and not when the next future chemo or CT scan was scheduled for. A glimpse into what we believed in and not what "he" or "we" had or had to deal with.

I recently created my own playlist on my computer at home that I work on entitled "Mental Warfare" and put the songs that have helped me get through this time of discovering my new normal. The songs that fill it are, "The Climb", "Every part of Me", "I walk Alone", "What About now" and "It's Not My Time". Why might you ask I need my own "Mental Warfare" soundtrack. Well it's a soundtrack to my new normal and all the things I try not to “over think”, as my friends would put it. To work past all the hurdles placed in my mind put there by myself and the thoughts I think others would have about me or the situation that I have been placed in. Things that I have worked very hard over these months to find my strength and where I stand as a Mom, a survivor, a woman and more importantly – as “d”.

As the song goes (It’s Not My Time) “Looking back at the beginning of all of this and how life was…I’m in world that tries to take my dreams away and now I’m taking back… There is a will in me and it’s time to show it…There might be more than you believe in and there might be more than you can see… My friend, this life we live, it’s not what we have, It’s what we believe in.”

* thank you my love for leaving this for me to find and reminding me that even though I can't have you, your belief in our dreams and hopes was greater than anything anyone could fathom – it was one of the greatest gifts you could have ever left for me – well next to Ethan that is :) *