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 :) *