Reaching Out

I think I’ve donated to a dozen charities since Carroll’s passing. Nothing like losing someone close to you to make you feel close to those that are suffering through the same ailments.

I received this video and though I don’t normally watch them because I’m running out of Kleenex, I did this one. And yes, the waterworks were on. Below is a video of a young 12 year old girl with brain cancer, Olivia Wise. She wanted to record Katy Perry’s song ‘Roar’ and someone stepped up and got her some studio time. Katy Perry has some very inspirational songs and this one is no different. There is also a link for a video reply that Katy sent to Olivia. Under the videos are links to donation pages to the Liv Wise Fund.

Donate to the Live Wise Fund.

I donated to Olivia and I’m also walking with my 34 team mates this weekend at the DFW Brain Tumor 5K Walk. If you would like to donate or walk, go to www.braintumorcommunity.org/goto/jameshpickering. If you’d like to walk you need to register before Thursday, November 7.

Katy Perry’s Video Reply

A-Traveling We Will Go

In my last post, I spoke of dreaming about Carroll going on a trip. It’s funny how dreams work. Are they a spiritual window into the another dimension where we can speak with the afterlife or are they just the random file cards of your brain trying to straighten itself out for the next day?

Carroll’s cousin lost a close friend last week and posted about a dream that he had just recently. It was about a picnic with that friend and his family. The friend then got up as if to leave and everyone saying good-bye, then realizing that it wasn’t that kind of good-bye.

In my first dream, Carroll was off to New Mexico to start a new life without me. In the one I had the other night, she was going on a very long cruise. You know, in real life, Carroll loved to travel. In fact, we had just gotten back from a two week trip to visit family when she passed away. I’d like to believe from my dreams that Carroll is still traveling, but from star to star.

I miss you, Carroll.

Happy in New Mexico

I always thought that I would start dreaming about Carroll shortly after she passed, but I didn’t. I thought maybe I was too depressed or grieving too hard and my brain didn’t want to overload me. I always figured that dreaming was the way that the mind helped grieve.

It wasn’t until about a month ago that Lillian started dreaming of Mama. She awoke one morning with a thoughtful look on her face. I asked her what was wrong and she said “nothing.” I pushed and asked if she was thinking about Mama. She replied, “yes.” I remember her talking in her sleep, so I asked if she had dreamed of Mama and again she gave me a quiet little yeah.

“Was it a bad dream?”

“No.”

“Was it a good one?”

“Yeah, it was a good one.”

This gave me a lot of relief. “Well, you know Lilly Bug, that’s Mama’s way of talking to us. She might make us remember a special time that we spent with her, or a place that we used to go. Is that what the dream was about?”

“Yeah.” Nothing more than that. She gave me a little hug and got up to start getting dressed.

She eventually told me about a week later that she had another one and it was good, too. I guess we’re doing okay.

Then I had one this last week. My first. From what I can remember of it, Carroll and I weren’t together, for whatever reason. I thought that we were getting back together and I get this letter. In the letter, it’s from someone else, I don’t know who. I get the gist from the letter that Carroll has either forgotten about me or never knew me, but she has moved to New Mexico and she’s very happy. Very strange, because we visited last New Mexico last May for the eclipse, but no mention of wanting to move there. It was always Ireland that she wanted to move to and I was 100% with her.

After thinking about it for a while and mentioning it to my sister-in-law, Maggie, we surmised this. The dream is my brain’s way of interpreting Carroll’s death. We were together, we’re not now. Carroll hasn’t forgotten me, she’s gone to heaven and by happy, it means that she doesn’t hurt anymore. And if that’s how my brain interprets it, then I’m fine with her being happy in New Mexico.

Good Night, Sweetheart. Hang up the phone.

So, it’s the middle of the night and I come across this video about Fred. Fred recently lost his wife Lorraine after 75 years of marriage. He found a songwriting contest for a local studio in the newspaper and he entered it. Though it was far from the caliber of the songs that the studio was looking for, the guys could hear Fred’s love and devotion in the words of the song and the letter he sent along with it.

She gave me 75 years of her life . . .

After posting the link, I read this article about a man and woman who were married 65 years and then passed away 11 hours apart.

If it weren't for cancer, this is how I believe Carroll and I would have been. Carroll knew within days of first dating that we would probably be together forever and that was fine to us. When we made plans for the future, there was no doubt that we would be there for the other. And this is how we would have finished our lives together; like hanging up the phone after a long late night call, "you go first," "no, you go first," but both knowing that we would see each other in a short while.

Carroll Was My Sixth

Watch and find out why.

Walking With Kiwi

I put out a call-to-arms on my personal blog about the walk this year. This will be the first year without Kiwi. The day of the walk will come just a week over nine months from her passing. I’m not sure how I will handle it.

I’ve already failed in her last words to me. “Get healthy.” I made a promise at her memorial that I would run the 5K, but getting back to some state of normal takes a while. I have made small changes here and there, but not enough to allow me to run it. Maybe next year.

“Get healthy.” Yeah, those were her last words directly to me as we rushed to get her back home from the trip. I had made a move in my seat as I was driving and I winced due to the pain in my knee. It was loud enough to scare her out of her own pain. She grabbed my hand and between the crescendos of tumor pulsing in her head, she told me to get healthy. The girl who was passing away before my very eyes was more worried with me and my damn knee.

Yeah, that’s the kind of girl I lucked out and married. Always thinking of others, instead of herself. That’s why, even though she couldn’t make it the first year that we walked, she was there the second, then the third and last time. Knowing that she may not be around much longer, she walked because she wanted for others what she might not get; a cure. What a girl.

I ask you, dear reader, to take time to visit the Team Kiwi page. If you can walk with us, please join us, but if not, try to make a donation or, at least, spread the word about our cause. Maybe one day I’ll be able to look up to Heaven and tell that selfless girl that we made a difference.

Live Like You Were Dying

Post from Joe the Peacock (some language)

This was posted by a gentleman in response to the death of a friend's mother. A woman that he got to know late in life and wished he had spent more time getting to know. And then my response is below that. I have discovered a little too late that money doesn't matter, your work doesn't matter, and fame and fortune are just words. I have redemption in my child because I can share my life the way it was supposed to be shared with Carroll; living life to the fullest. Take those trips and I don't mean the big ones that you save up for a year. The little ones that just get you away and somewhere different. Even if it's just in the back yard away from work. But spend time with your family and friends because one day they will be gone. Love to all.

I lost my wife to brain cancer in February. A month after our daughter turned three and three days after celebrating eight wonderful years of marriage and ten and a half years of just being together. In the end, I still questioned did we spend all the time that we could have? Did we say "I love you" enough? Did I take her to all the wonderful places that we had talked and dreamed about? Sadly, we spent most of our final time talking about the imminence of death and preparing for it. When the doctors could do no more for us, we were told that we had three months. In reality, it was six weeks. My wife actually showed no outward signs of cancer for the majority of that time until the day before she died. And then she was gone. I questioned "Did I do enough to make her happy" and yet in the end her words to me were "I want YOU to be happy." We never have enough time and we will never ever do what we want or say the things that we should enough to our satisfaction in the end. But as you have stated, and the adage goes, live as if YOU were dying and treat everyone with the love that you have for them and when it is over, it will have been enough. Thank you for sharing and allowing me to share, also.