I have to say something. It. Is. Not. Just. The. Loss. So many look at the loss as just a loss. Well, he lost his wife. Well, she lost her husband. Well, they lost their child. I suppose sometimes that may be the case. The loss is just a loss. Far too often though, that is NOT TRUE. The ripple effect. Society DOES NOT see the ripple effect that the loss has on one’s life. Society doesn’t see the mom of three whose husband took his own life after a lifelong battle with mental illness, and now her and her children are on the verge of being homeless. Society doesn’t see the dad who lo ..read more

I always knew that I was going to die at the age of 30. Cancer, it would be. More of a fact than a negative thought or premonition. Having lived a life of relative unhappiness the thought of passing away at a young age was scary, but not debilitating. Attempts to rid myself of this inner knowing would mostly fail. With my mind geared towards the negative for 32 of my now 34 years ~ every step that I took ~ and every breath that I made ~ felt one step closer to my final destination. I would be dead at 30. Cancer would kill me. …. Reading this your assumption might be t ..read more

I asked everyone to leave the room. They said that we only had an hour left and I wanted the last hour to be ours. I got into bed with her and slowly put my hand on her arm. I was scared. I remembered that day just over eight years ago when I touched my dad’s deceased body and it was cold. It freaked me out. I didn’t want Michelle to be cold. With that memory still fresh in my head, I slowly, gently and cautiously put my hand on her arm. Still warm. Thank goodness. Feeling more at ease and knowing that the clock was ticking away I wrapped my arms around her in a full cuddle, just as I had done ..read more

I have it heard it before. From them. And. From you. “Only those who had good marriages can truly know grief,” the man said with confidence. Don’t worry.  I corrected him. With kindness. Patience. And, most importantly, knowledge. “I don’t feel like I can relate. Everyone else had a fairy tale marriage. My marriage was not a fairy tale.” I hear it so often. From strangers. From clients. And, yes, from friends. Widows and widowers who hide in the shadows. Widows and widowers who read the blogs, the books and the Facebook posts. Widowers and widowers who question their place. Their place in our ..read more

“She is going to die.  In a couple of weeks.” Those were the words spoken to me that cold, snowy December afternoon. “What is the next step then?” I asked the doctor as I tried, unsuccessfully, to clench my jaw and fight back the tears. Michelle didn’t hear those words. Or my question. She was sound asleep. I, the caregiver, surrounded by a few family members heard those words. I, the husband, received the devastating blow. Those words felt like a knife to my soul. The time stamp. The words, the moment, the feeling – they stick with you. Forever. Hospice. One of the most dreaded words you can ..read more

On this day. Four years ago. We became man and wife. I’ve cried hard many a day. This. One of the most tearful of my life. You were so sick. The pain extreme. You couldn’t stop throwing up. A true nightmare. No fairytale. Or dream. You were in the same clothes. From three days before. The experience of our union should have been beautiful. Instead. More like a horror. The happy couples. Laughing. Smiling. All around. I teared up silently. And hid my eyes. I refused to let my sorrow be heard with a sound. They finally called our name. We headed to the back. Most couples smile and hold hands. I ..read more

How do you stand so tall? How do you walk so proud? How do you smile easily? How do you laugh so beautifully? How do you comfort others? How do you shine with such grace?  With such class?  With such dignity? I use to ask my wife those questions. The ultimate Cancer Warrior. She fought so hard. So bravely. With a spirit that left the World in awe. And now, I’m asking you. You:  The Cancer Warrior. How do you do it? To say that I admired her, well, that would be the ultimate of under statements. To say that I admire you, well, that would be of the same. She amazed me. You amaze me. Her spirit ..read more

Don’t forget our children. As the days pass by. Don’t forget our children. Those that had a daddy, or a mommy, die. Don’t forget our children. As you go on with your day to day routine. Don’t forget our children. Truly profound loss, they have seen. Don’t forget our children. They deserve better than to wonder where everyone went. Don’t forget our children. Love and support for them is so critical, when received, it sometimes feels Heaven sent. Don’t forget our children. Just because they wear a smile. Don’t forget our children. If you think they are ‘Just fine’, you may be the one who is in d ..read more

I wish I had you way back then. When she was sick. And I was watching her die. I wish I knew you existed. When I angrily cursed to a Higher Power. And asked, “Why?” I wish I had you way back then. When I needed more than just a friend. I could have used a word from someone who had been through it. A helpful word. You could have sent. I wish I had you way back then. When the vision before me.  I could take no more. I wish I could have reached out to you. You could have told me that I would survive. This unimaginable horror. I wish I had you way back then. As I sobbed so loudly.  Yet, I made sur ..read more

The nurses and hospice staff kept asking me if I wanted them to give Michelle a bath. I said no the first few times, I didn’t want to disturb her. I was scared. Every time she would get up she would suffer from God awful hallucinations. She was finally resting comfortably and I didn’t want to take any chances. “How do you feel about us giving her a bath today John?” they asked again – for the third day in a row. After asking a handful of questions to ensure that she would not wake up, or be disturbed, I reluctantly agreed. As they prepared to give my wife her sponge bath, I was equally scared ..read more