My dad has battled cancer in one form or another for about 10 years. In June, he started chemo to hopefully knock it back down again. After dealing with all the unpleasantness of chemo, the doctor told him that it had made the cancer cells more aggressive, instead of killing them off. Two weeks later, August 1st, he died.
I don't really know the words to describe the emotions I've had. It doesn't seem fair that this happened so quickly after Tony, but I know there is no fair. I do know that I was getting my feet back under me again a little, and this has certainly washed them out again.
In less than 6 months, I've lost the two most important men in my life, and I can't help comparing the effects. Tony was my best friend, and constant companion. I planned to spend the rest of my life with him. My dad represented more of my past, my formative years. He's the reason I make cucumber sandwiches the way I do, and that I'm always paying attention to the weather. And whenever there was a problem I couldn't tackle, he was the guy I called.
In many ways, they couldn't have been more different. But I loved them both, and they both loved me. That's all that really matters.
And as much as I support gender equality, sometimes it's just really nice to have a man around to help with problems large and small. I've lost both of my main men now.
So, once again I'll start to climb back out of the dark... and next time I get stuck in the snow, I'll be scrolling through my rolodex.
I used to believe that there was no problem that Tony and I couldn't solve together.
We weathered the early years of marriage learning to talk to each other, listen to each other, sort out money issues, etc... standard stuff I'm sure. We were just ready to start life as a family of four, when life proved us wrong. ALS was the problem we couldn't solve together... that no one seems able to solve.
So then our strategy became "one day at a time." Make the best out of each day, because we didn't know how many more we would have.
Maybe it's näive, but it worked for us. I remember asking Tony in January or February if the good still outweighed the bad. He said yes, but I knew he meant barely. He always made the difference for me. If I had a bad day, he was there to make it better... just a twinkle of his eyes made it better.
But here I am now... still one day at a time... but without my problem solving partner, and without the guy who always made my day better. I'm trying to find that ability in myself... I know I have to... one day at a time.
I want to wish a very happy fourth birthday to our sweet Louise! You are a wonderfully sweet and cheerful girl, and I'm hoping you've outgrown the temper tantrums (for a little while at least).
Today brings many thoughts of Tony too, of course. It's hard to observe these milestones without him, plus there are few other connections with this date...
It was two days before Louise was born that Tony first went to see a doctor about the persistent muscle twitches he had in his arms. Everyone gets twitches, but these never went away. Plus, his arm muscles had been getting smaller... but that's a difficult subject to raise with your husband. Since I waited outside the room, I don't know exactly what the doctor told him, but I know it weighed on Tony. I also remember telling him I was sure it wasn't anything serious (ugh).
And last year, Tony told me he thought he would live to celebrate this day with us. I thought to myself that there was no way... but again, that's not something I shared.
Louise has Tony's eyes, his complexion, and his indomitable spirit. She doesn't remember him before the affects of ALS, and might not have any real memories of him as she grows up. I'm going to do my damnedest to fill her head with stories of him... and I'll need help from all of you.
Happy birthday, Louise... and know that your daddy loves you very much and is always proud of you. Ditto for me!
