Maybe I'll try to blog more in the New Year....

A few minutes ago, I was standing in the kitchen trying to figure out if the Gouda was bad.  I don't usually eat Gouda but bought it before Christmas along with some other cheeses for company.   But even after tasting it I really didn't know.  Is it supposed to have a bit of a sharp taste to it?  Hmmm??  Better not chance it.  So I opened a bottle of Jersey Red, grabbed a bag of Newman's Own organic honey wheat pretzels and found my way to the computer for a bit of catch up.  Since my boys went to a friend's house to watch the football game, who cares if wine and pretzles have become my dinner.  You'de rather me be here, typing out something... anything... just so you know I've still got a place in Blogland, right??!!

I have to warn you, my mood feels a bit strange right now.  There are alot of things I could tell you.... how the holidays were, show pictures of the grands and how we celebrated this year.  And I'll get to that in a future post... or so she says...

but right now I think what I really feel like I need to talk about is what our family did today specifically.  We attended a viewing and memorial service.  A dear friend of mine's husband died the day after Christmas.  So sad.  But also, I am relieved.  He had cancer and lived with it for far too many years.  It wasn't that he got it, had some treatment to put it in remission and then went back to life as normal until it struck again.   NOOOO... he (they) lived with it in one way or another pretty much the whole time....over TEN years!  Constant oxygen, more procedures than anyone should ever have to experience, medication, countless nights of little to no sleep, the horrors go on and on.  It was far beyond what you could imagine happening to a young husband and father.  He was only about 39 when first diagnosed.  He was 50 when he died.  Aside from a few episodes of medically induced comas to stabilize him at very critical times, he was fully present for it all.  Willing to do whatever he could to have a little more time with his family.  A little more time.  Another procedure.  A little more time.  More horrors.  Some slight relief.  More time.  An experimental something.  More medication.  A little more time.  A bit of hope here and there.  Stay strong.  Hang in there.  A little more time.  He never, ever gave up.  And with the love and care of his wife, and daughter, (and an excellent doctor and staff) he adjusted to the way life had to be for them.   He wasn't bedridden for the whole duration.  There were times he'd be up and about the house helping to fold laundry or write out the bills, doing the little things he could to help.  They were given a free trip to Florida by some group and he was in a wheel chair and on oxygen, but did manage to go.  Aside from that, and hospital visits, he really wasn't able to go much of anywhere else.  Home was his sanctuary and he was made as comfortable as possible.  Over the years, he had amassed a huge collection of cd's and dvd's and he liked reading some of the newspaper and also was a huge sports fan so he did have entertaining things to keep him occupied and a bit distracted throughout the ordeal.   But still, the disease and all the horrible things that come with it were with him each and every day.  The strength that family had to go on and on and on with it still amazes me.  Some would say, well, you do what you have to do in a situation like that.  But no, I think some families wouldn't make it through something so difficult.  They would slowly fall apart, or have to put the person in a nursing home because they wouldn't or couldn't care for someone with the needs he had at times.  The love my friend had for her husband went above and beyond.  If there is such a thing as  soulmates, those two certainly were. 

When we arrived at the funeral home and got in line I could see the casket from a distance.  As we moved toward it, and I saw him lying there, and I started to cry.  I thought they didn't do him justice.  But then, as I got closer and got down on the kneeling bench I realized he just looked like himself, an older version maybe, but yes, it was him.  He just didn't look sick anymore.  The bloating was gone.  The pain was gone.  A slight smile.  Sleeping.  Peaceful.  The nights he'd choke and cough for hours on end and the strain that put on his face and body... all that was gone.  He was free. 

My friend had him dressed in one of his old karate uniforms.  It might have been a Kung Fu type set, the top was black with decorative white rope buttons.  He would have hated a suit and she wasn't about to put him in one.  I liked that.  He wore a small gold medallion that she has the match to.   Because he was being cremated afterwards, and there would be nowhere for flowers to go, she had only a couple vases at the head and feet of the casket.  Maybe one or two other bouquets were there from someone or another but she felt that the money would be better spent on donations to the cancer center who helped care for him so she requested that.

What really got everyone's tears flowing was the playing the song 'Stairway to Heaven' at the beginning of the service and 'Freebird' at the end of it.  He was such a huge fan of rock music it seemed very fitting.  The luncheon that followed was quite nice although things like this seem a bit odd, like you aren't really there.  What to say, how to act.  It's not an easy occasion to be part of.  But seeing my girlfriend and her family, knowing how close they are, I knew they will move on from this.  She will have alot of changes to go through, but she will manage. 

I'm sorry to tell you this sad story, doesn't seem like a nice start to the new year, huh?  But the happy part is that I know they loved each other and went through what they did without regret because of that bond.  It would be wonderful if everyone could know the depth of a relationship like that. 

Love and peace to you all.