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.

The Day I Became a Dad

Ah, yes, I remember it well. In a dazed and confused sort of way. Sitting in the little room by myself while they prepped Carroll for the cesarean. We had held off learning what gender the baby would be, because the both of us thought it would be wonderful to be surprised. The weeks leading up to the birth had everyone a little antsy and starting to make assumptions. “Oh, if you’re carrying the baby high, it’s going to be a boy.” If it does this it’s a girl, if it kicks a lot, it’s a boy. So much to the point that even Carroll and I started saying “he,” when referring to the baby.

So, there I was sitting in this little room with just my thoughts. If it’s a little boy, what do I teach him first. You know, beyond all that how to use the potty and don’t eat your boogers thing. Of course, there is a study out now that says that booger eating actually helps your immune system, so maybe I won’t harp on that one too much. But then I got to a point where I wondered, “What if it’s a girl? When is a good age to teach her about little boys and WHAT do I teach her?” At that precise instant, the nurse walks in and says that it’s time. Within two minutes my fears were realized and I had a baby girl staring me in the face. Well, I was staring, she didn’t have her eyes open yet. As I placed Lillian next to her Mama’s head where she could get a good look at her brand new baby girl, I looked at Carroll with fear in my eyes and said, “We’re in trouble.”

I miss you Carroll.

Happy Birthday, My Dear Sweet Love

I write this with tears running down my cheeks. Today is what would have been your forty-first birthday. Even as you got older, you grew more beautiful and even though cancer was taking it’s toll on your body and mind, you still held it all so gracefully. There will be get-togethers to remember you. Friends and family sharing memories, but they will not be the same because they will lack that youthful laugh and smile and the little crinkle around the corners of your eyes.

I sometimes find myself reaching out for you or looking expectantly at the door, waiting for you to make your entrance, knowing full well, that you are not here anymore. I can hear your voice. It hangs there on the wind, or on the edge of whatever other noise is being made. I’ll turn and strain to listen harder. The following silence hurts. I talk to you at night before I go to sleep. Lilly and I will say “hi” in our prayers. She will, every once in a while, just yell out, “I love you, Mommy,” especially if she’s happy about something. She asks if you will come back and I bite my lip and tell her, “no.” She will then tell me that she knows that Mama is in Heaven with Grandpa Jim, and the cats, Jade and Tigger. She’s only seen Tigger in photos. She loves to watch videos and look at photos of her and Mama. Some videos she will play over and over. She has just the hint of a smile on her lips when she does. We all have smiles when we think of you.

Carroll, I don’t know if this will ever end, but I pray to God that as time goes by it gets easier. You were taken from this Earth too early. We were supposed to grow old together and watch our child grow into a wonderful loving young woman. I know that she still will, but there are too many things that you were to teach her that I can’t. I know we’ll make it, but it doesn’t change the fact, that you are not here. You have to watch from the sidelines, though I’ve heard the stadium seating where you are is “heavenly.”

Sorry, I didn’t mean for this to turn into a whiney post, but I just needed to vent. I only wanted to tell you that I miss my best friend and soul mate and love to end all loves. I miss you and happy birthday. Your faithful and loving husband, James.

Love is . . .

Some, most, a few may know that Carroll was actually a natural blonde. It wasn’t a classified government secret or anything, but she was sure to never let the roots get too far out. I only saw her for a few months as a blonde in our entire ten years together. She said that it made her look washed out with her pale skin, and no amount of sun was going to darken that skin. She tried.

Growing up, I always seemed to gravitate towards blondes but somewhere out there I started dating red heads. Don’t know when, but there came a time when I could start going back over past girlfriends and there was a pattern. I never actually went out looking and said, “yep, I’m only gonna date reds!” It just happened that way. I guess, in a way, I got the girl that could meet both requirements.

Needless to say, I shed a tear for my lost Carroll when I made the mistake of checking my Facebook during lunch and found this. It’s okay. I’m smiling now.