Roller Coaster

March 25, 2017

It's been one year since my love passed away. Fifteen months before that we learned the cancer had metastasized. Three months before that she had the last of her reconstruction surgery done, which took several surgeries over 14 months. Before that process started she had been in chemotherapy and radiation treatments for 8 months. That treatment started 6 weeks after the bilateral mastectomy, which was done two months after she was originally diagnosed. That was Halloween, October 31, 2014. If you add it all up, it was three years and five months from diagnosis to death.

Those three plus years were miserable. The worst years of my life. Many people advised me that cancer was a roller coaster with lots of ups and downs. I don't recall any ups. It was a desperate downhill ride. We never found the part where the trajectory became positive. Oh, we had a few moments when we thought the trajectory had changed ... when chemo ended and the hair started growing back cuter than ever ... when the reconstruction surgery provided the cup size she'd always wanted ... when we moved to Sugar Land to reboot and prepare for retirement and maybe some grandkids some day. They were all just foolers, leading you to believe you were somewhere you weren't. It was all downhill. No matter how strong your brave face was, from Halloween 2014 to Easter 2018, it was a slow, struggling descent. The challenge was to stay on the ride, to hang on, because the trajectory might change. Hindsight proves it didn't.

Everyone says you can't put a clock on grief, but we do. We have to, because time is the only thing that heals, or at least makes the grief tolerable. In many ways I think that the grief process has been easier on me than on those who weren't along on the daily descent. I saw Cindy vulnerable, and afraid, and in pain, and hopeless, and helpless. I saw the suffering up close and how much it defeated her, a woman not accustomed to defeat. Yes, her family and friends and co-workers knew she was struggling, and I know they loved her through it. She loved them, too. But to the bitter end she worked to spare them the worst of it, until she just couldn't do it anymore, either physically or emotionally. That was her gift to us all, to be strong, to persevere, to maintain dignity, to live and die on her own terms. She made it as easy for us who remain as she could. It's up to us to learn from that for our lives going forward, and for our own future demise. She will always be my love, but she will also always be my hero. I can only pray that God will give me the strength and courage that my dear Cindy had in her life, but especially in her death.

My family and many dear friends have reached out to me today, knowing it is the first anniversary of my love's departure. I appreciate all of the calls and notes and messages. It helps me to know that I am not alone in my grief, that Cindy impacted everyone she met, that Cindy did not just belong to me. It reminds me that my love was loved by many, and that makes me proud that she chose to go through the dying process with me, that she trusted me to take the ride with her. She will always be my love, and every day I could use her help, I need my right hand, but I also know she intentionally made it easy for me to go on without her in many, many ways. What a heroic thing to do.

It's been one year since my love passed away. I've changed jobs. I've listed our house in Sugar Land for sale. I've purchased a new, smaller home in Fort Worth, and hope to move in the next few months. I've been diligently working on getting a handle on finances, and doing my best to help Griffin on his path forward, though he seems to have it well in hand ... he is his Mother's son. These are all major changes, something psychologists would say are stress inducing and yet, as overwhelming as the details can be, it's all quite invigorating. It's all something that I think Cindy would be proud of me for tackling, instead of climbing into a bottle or dragging everyone into my "woe is me" story.

The major changes include a new relationship with a woman I greatly admire. It began three months after Cindy died. Some might  say, and have said, that it was too soon to have a relationship. All I know is that after my love died the roller coaster continued to descend until Susan changed the trajectory. I'm no hero. I have no answers. I don't know the approved time-table for grief. I know that Cindy wanted me to be happy and that Susan makes me happy. This is a new ride, one that will likely have its own ups and downs. I believe that Cindy would be proud of me for taking the risk, regardless of the calendar, and I am glad that Susan has trusted me enough, so far, to take the risk with me.

It's been a year since my love passed away. I wouldn't be the man I am without her. I want to be a

man she would be proud of going forward. I think I can do that, with just a little help, because as we all know, women make men better. I think I've found one who makes me better, and my intention is to at least enjoy the ride.

This year, will be a good year.