They Are in the Moon

A few weeks ago, out of the blue, I had this conversation with Kayla.

Kayla, "Pepere went to the moon."
Me, "What are you talking about?"
K, "You know your dad? He died?"
M, "Yeah..."
K, "You know your dad's in heaven?"
M, "Yes..."
K, "Pepere went to the moon."
M, "Since Pepere's in heaven he's visiting the moon?"
K, "Yeah! He's in the moon!"
M, "Did Pepere tell you that in a dream or something?"
K, "Yeah! He said Hi Kayla. I love you. I'm in the moon."

Sometimes I don't think the finality of death is clear to Kayla or that she fully comprehends what it means because she has said she wants to go to Pepere's house. When I remind her that we can't go see him in his house anymore because he died she'll say that he can come to our house. I tell her he can't do that anymore either because he's buried in a cemetery in FL.

But then other times she'll say something so profound like this image of him being in the moon.

I never thought of it that way - the souls of our loved ones being in the moon - but now that she's verbalized it I think it's a beautiful thought.

She has said this several times since then; telling me my dad is in the moon and saying the moon is bright from my dad.

My grandmother (my mom's mom) passed away the evening of Sep 5th. On Sep 5, 6, and 7 there was a full moon. Thanks to Kayla I'm now inclined to think the moon was full those 3 nights, and a little brighter, because my grandma joined my dad in the moon.

My grandma was 88 years old; married for 66 yrs and had 6 children

(This isn't everyone) They have 11 grandchildren (+2 predeceased at birth) and 12 great-grandchildren

Such love between them. My grandfather was her caretaker the last several years. 

A 4-generation photo shortly after Kayla was born.

It goes without saying that my dear grandma will be deeply missed.

The Summer of 2012

It has been five years since the summer of 2012.

For me that summer is mostly defined by my father's death. At the start of every summer since then I have to repress the melancholy feeling in the pit of my stomach at remembering everything that happened.

It actually started a month before - in May - when my dad called to say that he decided not to continue with any more chemo treatments as they just didn't seem to be doing anything.

A few weeks after that we were in Denmark - a trip that was probably planned a year in advance. While we were there I got word that my dad was in a bad place and no one knew what was going on or if he would still be with us when we got back from Denmark. Thankfully he was; he had some excruciating pain and finally was admitted to hospice but eventually went back home with a morphine drip and a nurse who would check in on him.

A few days after we got back from Denmark we were in Florida to visit with my dad. I will never forget as soon as I stepped out of the vehicle he grabbed me up in a big hug and started crying and said to me, "I thought I would never see you again." There was no way I could maintain my composure after that, even though I tried to keep it together.

The day after we arrived he developed a blood clot in his leg and was back in the hospice house. He said he wanted treatment so he was transferred to the hospital to try and get the right dosage of medicine and once that was under control he went back to the hospice house - and never did go back to his own house.

We went back home and then weekend before the 4th of July dad called while we were at the beach - during that phone call he broke down crying again and I knew I had to go back to Fl. The next day I packed the kids and myself up and we were off to spend his last 4th of July watching fireworks from the hospice house parking lot with my dad. It was his last good day.

We went home the next day and the day after that he took a turn for the worse and a few days later I found myself once again in Florida.

I was sitting in his room when he took his last breaths on July 12th. We celebrated Kayla's 9th birthday on July 15 amidst all that sadness. His funeral was on July 17th and the stress of it all kept coming. The day we were heading back home we realized Kayla's thumb needed medical attention - it was red and swollen. We went from urgent care to the ER to finally have it lanced and drained.

We were only home for another brief stay before we were packing again and off to DC for the Down syndrome convention. It was hard to be there, I hardly had time to catch my breath and grieve, but I also needed to be there for the distraction.

So it was the summer of a lot of traveling and consumed by the uncertainty of how much time my father had left, until his death. So every summer I'm reminded of what I was doing that summer of 2012.

It's only been five years, but it feels like it's already been a life time because of everything that he's missed out on:

- Lucas starting school (he was only 4 when my dad died and I don't think he has much of a memory of him
- Kayla becoming a teenager and starting middle school
- Me hitting my 40s
- Joe's retirement from the Air Force
- Lucas' first 10k
- New hobbies for the kids: archery, chess, geocaching, metal detecting
 - The birth of a grandson
- Grandkids starting, and graduating from, high school
- Grandkids getting their driver's licenses
- Military promotions for my brother and his wife
- Championships for the Red Sox & Patriots

Life goes on. I sure wish he was still here watching life go on.

A few days ago we were driving home in a thunderstorm which was putting Kayla on edge. She hates thunder and lightning and was getting herself all worked up about it. Sweet Caroline came on the radio. The kids had just been exposed to the experience of Sweet Caroline at the ballpark a week before so I was able to remind her about that and it distracted her from the thunderstorm as we sang along. We rarely hear Sweet Caroline on the radio - I told Kayla that was Pepere sending her the song to help her during the thunderstorm.

Thanks Dad, for still watching out for us.

J is for Just Accept

After my dad passed away I went through his computer to find photos for the slideshow at his service. I found two videos he took while visiting us in SC. I didn't know he had taken videos while Kayla was in the jump castle, but I'm glad I found them because in the videos he is calling out for Kayla, again and again. It's not much, but it's his voice and I only have a handful of videos of my dad.



Kayla was born in NM and my dad lived in FL. A few hours after she was born I called to tell him the news.

I didn't know how, or when, to tell him about the Down syndrome diagnosis. He already had a plane ticket bought for shortly after my due date so he would be visiting us within a couple of weeks. I didn't want to wait though, I felt like I needed to get it over with.

After the exclamations of a new granddaughter, and the details surrounding her birth, her name and stats and congratulations, I told him. I don't remember exactly how; I think I just said she had Down syndrome, or they thought she had Down syndrome.

It wasn't confirmed yet because they still had to do a blood test, but I knew; I knew by just looking at her.

His response wasn't what I expected. I remember him asking what that meant. In my head I was saying, "What do you mean what does that mean? She has Down syndrome! I don't know what that means, but it's Down syndrome!" Of course I didn't say that to him. I think I managed to say, "I don't know, it's Down syndrome, you know, like Corky from that show we used to watch Life Goes On."

His response was, "Ok, so?"

After giving birth your emotions are all over the place, like a roller coaster. Again, in my mind I felt frustrated with his lack of reaction to this news, with his nonchalance. Why wasn't he upset, or shocked, or I don't know, mourning? This was sad news wasn't it? Getting a diagnosis of Down syndrome is bad news isn't it? Shouldn't he be saying something else?

What he asked me was, "She's ok isn't she? She's healthy?"

Me, "Well yeah, I guess so." Me, inside my head, "But I'm taking home a daughter with Down syndrome! It wasn't supposed to work this way."

He didn't linger on this fact, he brought the conversation back around to his visit. He was so excited and couldn't wait to see her, and hold her. I could hear the smile in his voice as he talked about Kayla. As he talked about his firstborn just giving birth to her firstborn. I could tell his smile was from ear to ear. He was already a proud grandfather.

He teared up the first time he held her. 

As far as I knew he was never upset over Kayla's diagnosis (unless he hid it from me and didn't want me to know.). He never got upset or cried over the grandchild he thought he was going to have, he never had to 'come to grips' with this news ... because he just accepted it. He accepted it as readily and easily as he just accepted when I told him I had just given birth to a daughter (we didn't know the gender until her birth).

He just accepted that Kayla had Down syndrome without question.

Down syndrome was what she had, but what he had was a new granddaughter - and that was all that mattered to him.

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Purple For A Purpose

November 13 is World Pancreatic Cancer Day. Purple is the color of pancreatic cancer awareness. The Pancreatic Cancer Network is encouraging people to wear purple tomorrow, and to contact members of Congress asking them to wear Purple For A Purpose; but more importantly asking Congress to pass an appropriations bill to include an increase for the NIH.

This link will take you to an easy form to use to automatically send a message to your state representatives.

We will once again be wearing purple tomorrow in memory of my dad.

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I was telling Kayla about wearing her "Purple Stride" tshirt for school tomorrow because we are wearing "purple for Pepere."

K: "Pepere's at home?"
M: "No Kayla, you know he's not at home."
K: "He's in Heaven?"
M: "Yes, he's in Heaven."

She stomped her foot and said, "Maaa-aan!" in a way that you would when you're frustrated.

I asked her, "What was that for?"
K: "I miss him for a long time!"

Then she looked at her ceiling and said "I miss you Pepere. I love you Pepere." and she answered herself, "I miss you Kayla, I love you Kayla." as if it was my dad responding to her. She did that once a couple months ago when she was looking at his picture. She replied back in a deep voice pretending to be him.

She was trying to explain to me that she was talking to Pepere and he answered her back. Then she told me to "Go. You do it." and waved her arm back and forth from me to her ceiling. She wanted me to to talk to him, too. She wanted me to tell him that I loved him and missed him. And she wanted me to answer back as if he were answering.

I said, "So we're having a conversation with Pepere in Heaven? We're talking to him and he's talking back to us?"

K: "Yes, he said I love you and I miss you Kayla."

Yes, Kayla, that's exactly what he would say back to us.


 

His Presence Was Missed

In the months leading up to Joe's retirement I thought often of my dad. Our immediately family - his mom, dad, father, half-brother, and my mom, step dad, sister, brother and his wife and son, would be there. So would his great aunt and uncle.

I knew my dad would've been there to celebrate this momentous occasion, and I knew I would miss him not being there with everyone else gathered around us.

Both Joe and I come from a military background. The military is how we met. We were both born at military locations, our dads were stationed in Germany where we met in high school, and they both retired after 20 years of service in the Air Force.

It would have meant a lot to me, and I know to my dad as well, if he could have been there for Joe's own retirement.

I thought about ways I might be able to somehow include my dad in that day. Have a chair marked 'reserved' for him? Give something military-related that was my dad's to Joe as a retirement gift? The problem was I don't have anything of my dad's like that.

The other problem is this day wasn't about me, or my dad, or the fact that he wouldn't be there.

It was about Joe as it rightfully should have been. This was about the culmination of his 22 years of Air Force service and the focus needed to remain on that fact, and on Joe. I didn't need to bring the absence of my father to this day of honoring Joe.

So in the end I didn't do anything, or say anything, I just internalized it and thought off and on about my dad.

On the morning of the retirement I had to go on base to sign some paperwork. Driving back home Luther Vandross' song Dance With My Father came on the radio. This song was on the radio shortly after my dad died and I remember being overcome with emotion. I've heard it only one other time between that day and the morning of the retirement. That morning of the retirement it was like a little gift to me, I needed to hear it since I had been missing him and was thinking of him.

Then there was the retirement ceremony and seeing my brother all dressed up in his Army uniform - the last time I saw him in that uniform he was saluting our dad's casket. And my brother looking so much like our father.

At the beginning of the ceremony we all stood as the chaplain said a prayer.

A few sentences in to his prayer, Kayla leaned into me with her head on my side. I gave her back a couple of strokes and then she put her arm around my back. I kept my arm draped on her shoulder. She put her other arm around the front of me. That was unusual for Kayla to do. I looked down at her and she looked up at me and solemnly whispered,

"You miss Pepere?"

How did she know? I thought to myself. How. Did. She. Know?

I wasn't thinking of my dad during that exact moment, I wasn't upset at that exact moment, so how did she know?

I hadn't said anything to anyone about my dad.

I guess in some way he was letting me know that his presence, while not physical, was there after all.

Buddy Walks of Yesteryear

Our local Buddy Walk is tomorrow and I'm reminiscing on the walks my dad was able to go to. These are 2 of my favorite Buddy Walk pictures.

With Kayla in Roswell, NM in 2006 (I think!)

With Lucas in Charleston, SC in 2011. Also the last Buddy Walk he was at.

Looking forward to some great weather tomorrow for the Buddy Walk. It's only supposed to be 70 which will be nice. The last couple of years it's been too hot for October! I know my dad will be smiling down us.

~~~~~~~

It only took a few years, but Big Blueberry Eyes is now on Facebook. We'll see how this goes! I thought Down Syndrome Awareness Month and "31 for 21" is as good a time as any to start the FB page. Each day I'll be randomly selecting a blogger participating in 31 for 21 and linking to their post on the FB page. Is your blog over there today?

How You Live

July 12th was two years since my dad passed away. That date fell right in the middle of the NDSC convention so I had plenty to do to keep my mind occupied and distracted.

July 4th, Kayla's birthday (July 15th) and the annual convention (usually in the middle of July) will always be wrapped up in the anniversary of my dad's death and funeral. Two years ago I went to convention the weekend after my dad's funeral.

So today is 2 years to the day that my dad was buried and I see this video clip of Stuart Scott's speech at the ESPYs.

It was hard to watch, but I also realized that I needed this today of all days.

I am still angry that my dad in no longer here. I'm angry that he's not here to fight cancer anymore.

But Stuart Scott reminded me of something in his acceptance speech. He reminded me that even though he's no longer here, what mattered is how my dad lived his life while battling cancer. And he did just that - he lived his life. He continued to do the things he loved to do.

And when the third treatment was obviously no more effective my dad made the choice to not try a different chemo, to not put his body through that anymore - for a chemo drug that really didn't have much success rate for pancreatic cancer. He made the choice to live how he wanted to live.

Stuart Scott reminded me of this when he said, "When you die, it does not mean you lose to cancer. You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and the manner in which you live."

My dad beat cancer in that way. He did not lose to cancer when he died, because it was on his terms - his terms to forgo chemo treatments and live whatever time he had left in the way he wanted to live. He was thankful for each and every day he had.


 

Pancreatic Cancer: Know It, Fight It, End It

November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month. One of the main awareness events that happens in November throughout the country are PurpleStride walks/5Ks to raise funds for the Pancreatic Action Network. 

Last year we went to Savannah for the PurpleStride walk.

That was 4 months after my dad passed away. He had been attending the walks in Orlando and we didn't get a chance to go with him, so I wanted to honor his memory at the Savannah walk.

It was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. While I'm glad we went in his memory there is a small part of me that thinks it was too soon.

At the last one my dad attended in Orlando he told me spoke in front of the crowd as one of the survivors.

It was hard last year knowing he was no longer a survivor. Knowing he wouldn't be going to any more PurpleStride walks and speaking to the crowd.

I've been flip-flopping over whether I wanted to make the trip to Savannah this year to do the walk again (Savannah is the closest one to us). A part of me wanted to go to continue honoring his memory.

But a part of me didn't. I admit to being somewhat bitter. I didn't want to go to an event that would be a constant reminder that my dad is no longer here. I didn't want to go to an event and raise funds for treatment and a cure that is too late for my dad. Yes, just a little bit bitter.

I am absolutely not saying that it isn't important to keep raising funds for pancreatic cancer research, treatment, and cures for the people who are currently fighting this disease, and for the people who are yet to be diagnosed. It is important. The 5 year survival rate for this type of cancer is just 6%. (My dad fought it for 3 years). It's the only major cancer with a 5 year survival rate in the single digits and has remained that way for 40 years.

There are no early detection methods and the symptoms that do appear could be attributed to other medical conditions (my dad was first diagnosed with pancreatitis). More than half of the diagnoses are made in the latter stages. Surgery offers the best chance, but only about 15% of cases are caught early enough for this surgery...and even with surgery this cancer recurs in approximately 80% of patients.

So yes, more research is desperately needed. Only about 2% of the National Cancer Institute's budget is allocated to pancreatic cancer, the 4th leading cause of cancer deaths.

I'm not denying that there isn't a need in the pancreatic cancer community for events like PurpleStride to raise funds and awareness ... there is ... I'm just saying that I'm also bitter and still mourning for my dad and that I know my participating won't help my father. Sometimes that is still hard for me to come to grips with.

I didn't know if I could put my emotions aside and do the walk this year. But the decision ended up being made for me. The Partners in Policymaking class that I'm involved in meets the 3rd weekend of every month and the walk in Savannah is on the same weekend I need to be in Columbia for class.

I won't be at the walk this year, but I can still donate, raise awareness, and always, always honor and remember my dad.

The World Series, The Red Sox, and My Dad

Sports has a way of connecting people. A common bond among strangers. A love for a team passed down through generations. Celebrating a win over the water cooler with co-workers.

My dad loved sports. He was a fan of the 4 major sports teams in the Boston area: Red Sox, Celtics, Patriots, and Bruins. He followed them all and rooted for them all, but he was extra passionate about the Red Sox.

He played baseball from early on and continued playing softball in the military on base teams. I wanted to be like him and attempted to play softball in school. I touched on his love of sports on the eulogy I wrote.

As I mentioned, he was a huge Red Sox fan. His father was a huge Red Sox fan. And I'm sure his father's father was a Red Sox fan as well. I am my father's daughter; therefore, I too, am a Red Sox fan.

Sports was my connection with my dad. That thing we had. I couldn't, and didn't, play softball well at all, but I could sure talk about the Red Sox (or Celtics, or Bruins, or Patriots) with my dad.

When my dad joined FB our conversations became even more centered around sports. He was a coach from home - critiquing the game and coaches' decisions from the first play. He let his opinions be known of trades that happened during the season and during the off-season.

A glimpse into some of our FB conversations:

Feb 2011: Me to my Dad: I know you've wanted the Celtics to trade Perkins, so you're probably happy about that ... but Nate Robinson too? He was productive coming off the bench for Rondo; they shouldn't have traded him. And w/Shaq's injuries they really need another big man with KG.

Dad: What, he was traded? Let me check this out. I didn't hear this till you posted it. I wanted a big man in the middle. I didn't want Robinson traded but now that West is back, he is just as good.

Aug 2011: Dad: I thought we had a chance to come back but not now after Napoli hit that home run. CJ Wilson owns the Red Sox. (I have to laugh at finding this one because Napoli was on the Red Sox this year and helped them win the WS.)

Apr 2012: Dad: Bowden is a young starting pitcher that started with the sox last year. He only pitched 3 inning this year and gave up 2 hits and one run and was sent down to aaa. Marlon Byrd is an outfielder with 3 singles in 43 at bats this year. The point I was making is that we don't need any more outfielders, we need any kind of pitching. I know we have 2 starters on the dl from the outfield but we have AAA to bring any up if we need one, but not to trade for one and have another contract.

It was 3-0 when I started this post. Now they are losing 4-3 after the post. We don't have one reliable starter. Doubront seems to be doing the best. Their last starting pitcher.

The only 3 doing good on offense are Aviles, Sweeney, and Ortiz. Ortiz is leading the a.l. in batting average.

That is what I'm missing from my dad during the different sport seasons.

My dad has a brick at Fenway Park (as does his father), he was buried in a Red Sox jersey and Red Sox hat in his hands. He has this at his grave site.

  A lifelong and forever fan...

So when the Red Sox won the World Series last week it was bittersweet. As a fan I was ecstatic. As my father's daughter I missed sharing that moment with him. It was hard not being able to talk to him, to hear the shared excitement in his voice, to picture the smile on his face as he likely would have said something like, "Wow Michelle, they did it! Another World Series! It took almost all my life to see them win 1 World Series and now they have 3 in 10 years!" to re-hash the Series. It made me miss him even more. It brought back the reality of him being gone.

When the Sox won in 2004 my dad sent me a World Series t-shirt and commemorative baseball.
When they won again in 2007 he sent me a couple more commemorative baseballs from the post-season.
Now they've won in 2013 and there won't be anything else coming from my dad this time. Bittersweet.

They finished in last place last season. They had a manager and players that just didn't mesh well. Which, in a way, might have been sort of fitting since my father passed away in July of that year. I wouldn't have felt like celebrating any post-season play last year.

But this team, this bunch of bearded-clad players ... my dad would have enjoyed them. He would have liked the players they brought in. He would have liked the coach. He would have liked their never-quit attitude. He would have liked their personalities. He would have liked the team mentality.

I guess he still did enjoy this team and this season and this World Series win ... it was just in a different place than here. And he got to enjoy it with his father. I know they were celebrating together.

Even though my dad is no longer here, I guess we do still have that thing, that connection between us. We still have it because I won't be able to watch the Red Sox without thinking of my dad.

Thank you, Red Sox, for knowing how to bring together a city, and also for making this daughter, who is missing her father, feel just a little bit closer to him.

 

Flying Wish Paper

On one of my mom's visits she brought Flying Wish Paper with her. She thought it would be a neat thing for the kids to do. They drew pictures and she lit their papers and they lifted off in the air to 'fly'. They had fun with it and there were plenty of papers left over to use for another time.

I had forgotten about that paper until I was trying to think of what to do to mark the 1- year anniversary of my father's death.

That evening we got out the Flying Wish Paper and sent our notes up to Heaven to my father; their Pepere.

I was really touched by what Kayla and Lucas came up with to write on their paper.

Lucas wrote, "Lucas loves Pepere so much that I can not forget you."

He was only 4 when my father passed away. I wonder how much of my dad he will actually remember. Kayla was 9 so she had a little bit more time to make memories with my dad, but I was 8 when my dad's mother passed away and my memories are very few and faint of her. I know we have to just keep talking about my dad and looking at his pictures to keep his memory alive for my kids.

Kayla's note said, "Dear Pepere, I like you. Don't die. Don't get in the coffin ok? I like you Pepere."

I know Kayla knows that he did in fact die, and he is in a coffin - they were there for the funeral. So I wonder if she was actually trying to express that she wished he didn't die, but she didn't know how to say that.

 

Remembering My Dad

I dreaded this day coming; the one year mark to end my dad's 3.5 yr battle with pancreatic cancer.

"Eulogy for dad" has quickly become one of the top search phrases that have landed people on my blog. I hate that. But every time I see that phrase has led someone to my eulogy for my dad, I say a little prayer for the person who did that search.

Thank you all for your suggestions on what I should do to mark this day. I realized that last week when we were on our vacation we were doing things my dad would've loved to do. He loved being outdoors ... going for walks, hiking trails etc. He would have loved the pictures I shared. He would have laughed, and been surprised, at us continuing our walk in the rain to the waterfall. I could hear his voice in my head, teasing me about that, exclaiming that I took the kids out in the rain.

So today, to remember my dad, this is my to-do list:
- Have one of those good, long, ugly, hard cries
- If the rain holds off, take kids for a bike ride
- Pull up YouTube and listen to the hits by the Four Seasons: Working My Way Back To You, Big Girls Don't Cry, Sherry, Candy Girl, Walk Like A Man because when I was growing up I remember my dad listening to and singing those songs
A lot.
- Sit down w/Kayla and Lucas and look through pictures of my dad
- Pull out the old video tape from when Kayla was born and cross my fingers that I have my dad on that tape
- Write messages with the kids, to my dad, on Flying Wish Paper and send the wishes up in the sky
- Wear our Purple Stride Pancreatic Cancer walk shirts
- Wear our Boston Red Sox caps
- Take the kids bowling
- Smile
- Make a donation to the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network
- Order flowers to be delivered to FL so someone can place them on my dad's grave site
- Try not to relieve what I was doing every hour of the day this time last year
- Probably have one more good cry

 

The Last Pictures

I spent last July 4th with my dad.

I knew since he decided to stop his chemo treatments (he didn't feel like they were working anymore) for pancreatic cancer that we would inevitably have to say goodbye to him sooner rather than later.

But last July 4th I wasn't expecting it to be so soon after that day.

July 4th was his last good day. The last day he was really alert, more mobile (although he still couldn't walk because of the blood clots in his leg), in great spirits, and 'with it' in his conversations with us. I guess it was something like a last 'surge' before his body shut down.

We left the next day, Thursday - July 5th, and exactly one week later he passed away. I still can't believe he's gone. I can't believe it's almost been a year since I said goodbye to my dad.

The days to that one-year anniversary are hurtling faster and faster towards me and I just want to stop time. I don't want July 12th to get here. I just want to skip over that day. I don't want to have to remember and associate July 12th with his death. I don't want to have to associate the July 4th holiday as the last time he had a good day, and that there are no more July 4th celebrations for him.

I don't like remembering that he's not here anymore.

As painful as these pictures are to look at I also cherish them ... the last pictures I have of my father.

Since I can't avoid July 12th I'm wondering what I can do to honor my dad on that date. We aren't going to be in Florida to visit his grave site ... so what can I do at home for him? For myself? For Kayla and Lucas to acknowledge the significance of this date? Any suggestions for something else besides maybe releasing balloons?


 

Bittersweet

It's been 10 months since my dad passed away.

I knew there would be things I would miss out on sharing with him; little and big things with his grandkids he wouldn't be around to witness.

I knew there would be all those 'firsts' to get through - his birthday, holidays, etc.

While there has been a lot of good things for us this year ... it has not been without pause. Each celebration has been bittersweet for me.

Bittersweet when: 

- Lucas learned to ride a bike without training wheels
- Lucas learned to tie his shoes
- Kayla learned to ride a bike with training wheels
- Kayla made her 'catwalk' debut in the Global Down Syndrome Foundation's Be Beautiful Be Yourself Fashion Show
- Lucas graduated from preschool
(I can picture his comments on Facebook saying how proud Pepere is of them, and how beautiful Kayla looked at the fashion show).
- Joe completed his first marathon

... and the every day things I've missed discussing with, and hearing my dad's commentary on:
- The Red Sox hot start to the baseball season
- The change in managers, and players, for the Red Sox (I think he would be happy with the team, and manager, the Sox are fielding this year)
- The Celtics fading in the playoffs and what their prospects are for next year
- The Bruins having a 3-1 series lead over the Maple Leafs and needing OT in Game 7 to win and advance to Round 3
- The Pacers taking the Heat to Game 7 

So bittersweet ... not being able to share moments with him anymore ...

 

Turning The Page

The end of the year always feels like turning the last page of a chapter in a book. Turning the page and starting a new chapter. Leaving the last chapter behind.

I don't usually get too sentimental or melancholy about the end of the year and I didn't expect this turn in to the new year to be any different. But it was. And I wasn't prepared for it.

As I sat thinking about closing the chapter of 2012 I couldn't help but think about my dad. A lot of things happened in the year 2012, but losing my father will of course be the one that sticks out the most.

The end of the year brought back the pain of losing him. It felt in some way like I was saying goodby to him again. In turning the page and closing the chapter of 2012 it was like forever leaving my dad in 2012 ... because he isn't, and will never be, here to see another new year. He will always be linked, and staying in 2012.

Moving in to 2013 is creating that much more separation and distance from him. It is moving on, even though I've been doing that every day since July 12, 2012. Moving on to another year seems somehow more significant. It's moving on to the new year without him. I didn't think that would hit me as hard as it did.

Next weekend we are going to FL to cheer Joe on in the Disney marathon. The date of the half marathon (the full marathon was full by the time Joe registered) is exactly 6 months since my dad passed away. We will find some time during that short weekend to go to Cocoa and visit my dad's grave site...which will be the first time going back since his funeral. This means I will also be seeing his headstone for the first time.

I'm trying to prepare myself for that. But much like seeing his obit in the paper for the first time I don't think there is really any way to prepare for seeing my dad's name on a marker signifying his burial spot.

 

Last Christmas

Last year for Christmas we went to Florida to see my dad. At this point we knew the cancer was back but he was about to switch to another type of chemo. At that time the cancer was in his liver, and eventually spread to his lungs.

Of course I had no idea that last Christmas was going to be my dad's last Christmas. I am so thankful that we made the trip there to spend the holidays with him. Wonderful, poignant, and heartbreaking memories to know that was the last time we would spend Christmas with my dad.

This year found us in Florida, again, right before Christmas. A gift to myself was going to see the New England Patriots play the Jacksonville Jaguars. I'm a huge Patriots fan, and with Jacksonville being about 3.5 hrs away (on a good day traveling on 95S!) and with the game being on Dec 23rd, this was something I didn't want to pass up.

I thought about my dad a lot on that quick overnight trip to FL. He lived about 2 hrs from Jacksonville. If he was still here he would have met us in Jacksonville and gone to the game with us ... being a Patriots fan himself...and me getting my love of sports from him.

I know his spirit was with us though as we enjoyed the experience of being at an NFL game....there were times I felt (or maybe it was wishful thinking) as if he were right there in the stands with us cheering on the Patriots.

Arriving at the stadium:
 

Ready for the game to start


Patriots won!


 

I'm Free

Even though I didn't spend many Thanksgivings with my dad over the years, since we were separated by long distances, I am missing him today.

There are many of us out there who have lost a parent, or any loved one, this year and are getting through this first Thanksgiving (and holiday season) without them around.

Sharing this for all of us in the hopes that we are surrounded by loved ones and happy memories to help us get through this time.

"I'm Free" (I don't know who to give the credit for this)
Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free;
I'm following the path God laid for me.
I took His hand when I heard Him call.
I turned my back and left it all.
If my parting has left a void,
then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss;
Ah yes, these things, I too, will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow;
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life's been full, I savored much;
Good friends, good times, a loved one's touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief;
Don't lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me:
 God wanted me now, He set me free.

 

PurpleStride Savannah

This weekend we drove to Tybee Island, GA for the Pancreatic Cancer Network's PurpleStride 5K.

It was a chilly and windy walk/run on the beach, but I'm glad that we went in memory of my dad.

They had a short kids' run and then there was the 5K Run/Walk. The wind really started to get to Kayla so Joe took her back up on the pier and Lucas toughed out the rest of the walk with me. Ok except on the way back when a police officer patrolling the beach offered us a ride back ... and Lucas wanted to ride on the jeep; so we almost made the 5K.

It was an emotional day thinking about, and remembering my dad, and wishing he was still here with us.

Glow sticks to light it up purple for hope and remembrance of loved ones.