How It Ends

Have you seen Big Fish? It’s a movie that also has a stage adaptation. If you haven’t seen it, I cannot recommend it highly enough. You will see glimpses of my Dad in the storyline. My Dad was a wonderful father, husband, manager, and friend.

I miss him every day.

If I can, I’d love to use this blog to speak with him…

Hi Daddy! Four years?!? How has it been four years… It feels like just yesterday that me, Denise and Jessie were sitting at your bedside, reminiscing about life with you. We watched your breathing… there were so many times that you’d go a long time without a breath. Each time my own breath would leave me. I knew you had to leave but, oh how my heart was breaking.

I arrived in Milwaukee on May 8th. It was my birthday and I had come to help Denise, Jessie and Dave watch over you as you lived out the rest of your life from your home, just like you wanted. That plane ride was difficult… I couldn’t get there fast enough but the heaviness of what would greet me was heavy. But, wouldn’t you know it, your Grandchildren arrived to meet me and had big “Happy Birthday” signs. I was home. I was loved.

That is the world that you created. Home. Love. No questions asked.

God… how I miss you!

Mice on Main was a favorite activity whenever you visited Greenville. Remember how many times we would walk downtown to find each mouse? Remember the scandal when one of the mice was stolen? We stopped for coffee or ice cream every hunt. I know it wasn’t about the mice, it was about us spending time together.

The gift of time is something we learned together. Remember how excited we were the first time I received your blood when I was battling leukemia? You gave as often as you could. I will never be able to adequately explain how it felt to watch your blood go through the iv line into my port. You literally helped save my life. We laughed. We cried. We prayed. We talked. We were silent. You never missed a day to come stay with me in the hospital. You put your life on hold to help me live. I have your notes from those days, do you know that? Every day you wrote how I was doing and what they doctors would say. Thank you for documenting those days.

Luna misses you, too! Every time Denise comes to visit Luna looks for you. Do you remember the day that you and I went to the animal shelter to rescue Luna? She fell in love with you instantly, which is how I knew she would be a loyal and smart member of our pack.

Greek Fest in Greenville – we had so much fun every year! You always had to make sure you got your lamb sandwich, Greek French fries and delicious lemonade. It was a tradition. Greek Fest is this weekend, do you know that?

Once you couldn’t drive your car anymore, you, Denise and Guy bought a fresh set of wheels for you to drive around your house. Do you remember all of the times we spoke on the phone and you would tell me how many trips you made around “the loop” – you had so much fun! I loved hearing you enjoying your time. You missed Mama so much… I know time was hard for you.

You loved your home! It was your desire to pass on at home. The days of May 8th – May 15th are some of my most cherished memories. They were filled with love, laughter, fear, doubt, visits from family members and hospice nurses… Then you became an escape artist! Do you remember that? You could get out of bed and try to go “somewhere” so fast it was hard to catch you. We never missed catching you, though. Dave, Denise, Jessie and I took turns sleeping in your room. Oh the shenanigans the other three got up to when wasn’t our turn to be with you, we would watch you two on the monitor and hide George around your house. Love and sorrow. Pain and happiness. Light and dark. Beauty and tears. We were living somewhere in between…

That last day, May 15, 2021, you weren’t talking. Your breathing was sporadic and the “death rattle” was there, the marbling was there… Denise, Jess and I were at your bedside and Dave had prepared to go for a run. He went out the door and then came back into your room, put his hand on you and said, “I’m going for a run, Dad. Thank you for giving me the gift of running. You don’t need to wait until I’m back, Dad. If you need to go, it’s ok.” Dad… you then mouthed, “I love you, D…” and Dave went outside for a run. He didn’t make it to the stop sign before Jessie called to tell him you were gone. I don’t think you took another true breath once you told Dave you loved him. All four of us surrounded you, told you how much we love you, and to please tell Mama we love her too.

Thank you, Daddy! For the life you created for me… My heart is broken and I miss you so very much. Please don’t worry about me, though. My Rock loves me and protects me just like you said he always would. You were right! My Rock is my soulmate. I’m so thankful for the wonderful relationship that you two had!

Four years. A moment. A lifetime. The blink of an eye. It all goes so fast.

Grief is a small price to pay for the extraordinary privilege of love. ❤️

I’m Fine…

Well, truth be told, I’m not fine.

I have a love/hate relationship with the word “fine.” Most times it feels like an automatic response to the question, “How are you?” Is it a normal response to say, “I’m fine. How are you?” Yes, it is normal. Do I always trust the response? No.

Cheerfulness has been my motto. I’m surrounded by an amazing group of humans: family, friends and co-workers. I’ve lived to watch my children grow up. I’m married to my Rock/love of a lifetime. I’m sitting here in a lovely home, decorated for Christmas, listening to Christmas music while my little group of rescue dogs chew on their toys in contentment. Tonight I’ll make chili and cornbread, because that’s what the blustery weather seems to dictate. Life is good. It’s more than good, it’s pretty freaking fantastic.

Yet…

If I were to honestly answer the question, “How are you?” I would say something like, “I’m really hurting and living with more physical pain than ever before and I’m struggling.” The reasons for the pain, in most part, comes from being part of a drug trial and fighting my own battle with cancer. Would I do it again? Absolutely. No question.

Sixteen years ago, when I was diagnosed with cancer, I kept an incredibly upbeat disposition. I assured and reassured family and friends that I would be fine… that I would beat cancer. I assured my children that if I did die that I would still be with them, in their hearts, even if they couldn’t see me. My oncologist, nurses, specialists and spiritual staff at the hospital all commented on my happy disposition – that it lifted their spirits. One such day, my blood counts were so low that even slightly raising my head off of the pillow would cause a whopper of a nose blood, something that could literally kill me. So, I laid flat, all day, while receiving chemo and blood transfusions. I can barely think of that day without crying… it was difficult. Painful. Scary. On the outside, though, all you would have seen was cheerfulness. The closest I can come to describing the emotions I was feeling in those moments is “terrifyingly confused with a hint of gratefulness.”

My greatest fear was being a burden… it still is.

When I was finally allowed to go home and begin isolation there, I did try and talk with a friend or two about my fears, but I was quickly reminded that everything would be fine… Keep a positive spirit… Only think positive thoughts… They knew I would be fine… Those comments all came from a place of love, I know that. I’m grateful for good friends. However, in my 16 years as a cancer survivor and fighter, I truly believe that we need to give people a place to be “uncheerful” ‘for awhile. Perpetual cheerfulness has, at times, become a prison for me and there are times when I desperately want to break free.

Much of my life and experiences are only truly known by a small handful of people, and that has been my choice. Frankly, most of my life these past 16 years can only be understood by those who have literally walked with me through each trial. My Rock and My Core Four have seen every single trial, and that makes me feel abundantly sad with a heaping dose of love and gratitude.

Some things can’t be told. You either live them or you don’t. But they can’t be told.

However, the lessons we learn, those things can be told. I’ve been on an exploration of who I am and how I can best live this life I have been miraculously given. It’s an ongoing journey. Some people are doers. Some people are takers. Some people are drifters. There’s lots of ways to break down personality traits, but what I’ve learned is that I’m a prover.

My proverbial need to NOT be a burden to anyone feeds my need to be a prover. I do not want anyone to feel like they have to place their lives on hold, give up any dream, or simply not run an errand because I may need them for something. This is what caused my overwhelming cheerfulness in times of absolute distress. I look back at my time in treatment, isolation, and re-navigating life and see a sick, scared and hurting human who couldn’t bare the thought of causing any more sadness to those around her.

BUT…

That doesn’t mean that my cheerful disposition wasn’t authentic the majority of the time. I have been blessed to have a personality that looks for the good, believes life will improve, loves to laugh with abandon, to cook and clean and work… 90% of the time I am truly happy, regardless of circumstance. There is so much about my life that I love! I’m grateful. I’m blessed. I’m a goofball.

I’m not fine. Every single day the amount of physical pain I feel is overwhelming. I’m also happy. I’m loved and I love those around me.

Life is so much more about “and” than “or.”

It’s okay to be happy with a twinge of sadness. It’s okay to be laughing out loud with a hint of uncertainty. It’s okay to be brave and scared at the same time. It’s okay to be disappointed with a whisper of hope. It’s okay to not be cheerful 24/7. We need to laugh, cry, dance, roll our eyes (my personal favorite) sing, scream, be quiet, be goofy, feel angry, feel hurt, feel love and to be loved. It’s all okay.

Emotions are signposts of where we are in the moment, but they are NOT directives on who we are.

So, now that you know one of my deepest secrets, let me introduce myself…

Hi, I’m Aimée. I’m a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, cancer survivor, prover and dog lover who loves to laugh (a lot), text (NOT talk on the phone) with my family and friends, cook, discuss the real meaning of life, give where I can, watch scary movies (zombie movies are my favorite) and eat dinner every single night with my Core 4. I’m a work in progress who is grateful for every moment and am discovering that it’s okay to keep discovering. We humans, we grow and change. No one is who they were 10 years ago, or even yesterday.

Signposts. Not directives.

Quattletine, Blog #8, Thank Goodness!

For many of us, another “new normal” begins today. Here in South Carolina, salons can reopen, restaurants can begin limited indoor seating, and some businesses are starting the process of resuming operations with a well thought-out plan. I’ve lived many a “new normal” in my lifetime. Through the years I’ve been asked some wonderful questions and one of my favorites is this: does change ever become routine?

Interesting question. A valid question.

My answer has always been that I just go with the flow, or something to that effect. Truth be told, every new normal chips away at the strong walls I started building around myself in 2004. These walls were built with the best of intentions, and, frankly speaking, their construction began before I was fully aware of them. This is one of the many reasons that I connect so strongly with Wicked – and my favorite song, Thank Goodness. Glinda beautifully sings this celebratory anthem and perfectly hints at the cost of past and current choices with the phrase, “there are bridges you cross you didn’t know you crossed until you cross.”

The walls and bridges that I have built in my own life… well, they seem a bit worn and in some disrepair these days. That’s a good thing, I think. It’s a vulnerable state that I never could have imagined. I desperately wanted to be “a good and faithful” cancer patient, and I still find myself auditioning for that part whenever I meet a new doctor, specialist or physical therapist. I need to change this habit. Change: deciding to build a different bridge. This part of me will always be under construction.

God created me to be a generally upbeat person. I love a cheerful response, a quick joke (a sarcastic one, if I’m going to be transparent), a positive outlook… But, sometimes these traits feel like a proverbial prison.

I’ve always thought of myself as an Elphaba, but I’m discovering that I’m a Glinda.

It’s a struggle to ask the difficult questions in a perky and optimistic manner. There never seemed to be the right place or time to say things like, “I don’t want to die” or “I want to see my children grow up.” The few times I gathered enough courage to say them I was met with, “don’t think like that” or “you need to stay positive” or “I KNOW you’ll make it.” Oh how we love living in a Pinterest world full of sayings that can heal all hurt, comfort all sorrow and turn a frown upside down. My personal favorite is “every time God closes a door He opens a window” – I certainly need more upper body strength for that type of life. 😂

So, how does one walk on the sunny side of life when one can’t even walk? How do we navigate the new normals of today? We do it together.

COVID-19 has brought up many long-buried thoughts and feelings, and I doubt I’m alone in this. We all have moments in our past that have influenced our thoughts, feelings and direction. As we find ourselves in another new normal I hope to walk alongside my fellow humans as we navigate each step. We may come from different paths and have learned different things, but I think we all will find that we have far more in common than we thought if we just listen, give space to be understood, and work together to create this new normal – the inevitable routine of change.

Aim from the Heart

“Just because you feel lost doesn’t mean you weren’t led.”
Lydia Stewart

It’s the end of March. The season of anniversaries has begun. Life has been… overwhelming for me in 2019. I’m happy. I enjoy my life and the people that are in my life. I’m thankful. I’m tired. I’m lost. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

A few years ago Matthew was in the debut of “Chrysopolae” – an original play by Lydia Stewart. The story follows the construction of the Golden Gate Bridge and the dramatic telling of how it became one of the world’s most popular destinations for suicide, and how each life lost greatly impacted the lives of those left behind. Tragic. Heartbreaking. So many thoughts and ideas in this play struck me right in the heart, and continue to do so to this day. One of my favorite quotes from this show is, “Just because you feel lost doesn’t mean you weren’t led.”

So many times in life I have felt lost, but looking back I can see how I was led. So, every day I choose to remember that though my current path may seem… off/uncertain/disappointing/painful, etc. that doesn’t mean I need an escape. The choosing part is important. Remembering that I have the power to choose is important.

My anniversaries are big this year: 15 years since diagnosis of APL and 30 years of marriage to my best friend. The life lessons keep on coming. And while I have struggled to write them down, I did want to share the story of my first wedding anniversary after my diagnosis. It has it all: mystery, romance, laughter, tears… (it’s one of my favorite stories from those day).

Let’s set the stage:

The year: 2004

The location: a mall near Lake Orion, Michigan

Our cast: 1 adult male (tenor, handsome, supportive, romantic, husband to female lead, father to 2 children)

1 adult female (bald, scared, tired, just released from the hospital, awaiting more chemo, wife to male lead, mother to 2 children)

1 child female (11 years old, happy the family unit is back together, struggling to understand what happens next)

1 male child (8 years old, firmly holding the hand of the mother and frequently looking to the female child for confirmation that everything is ok now)

2 adults (supporting roles, store clerks #1 and #2)

It was a sunny afternoon and the family unit is headed to a mall for their first family outing since the mother was released from the hospital. It is one week until their 15th wedding anniversary. The father is on a mission as he has planned this outing without anyone knowing. The mother is nervous about being around people. The children are happy and scared at the same time. The family walks into the mall and the husband takes the family to the Tempur-Pedic Store. Store Clerk #1 comes forward to greet the husband and meet the rest of the family.

Store Clerk #1: Hello, Dennis! This must be your wife and children that you were telling me about. It’s good to meet you all. Let me show you the model that Dennis is looking at.

The store clerk takes the wife to a new model of an adjustble bed and begins to tell her about all of the features. The wife listens even though she is confused. The children show their excitement about the adjustable bed. The store clerk then tells the husband and wife the cost of this particular model. The husband is not at all surprised. The wife is overwhlemed.

Wife: Dennis, that’s way too much. We do not need a new bed and, frankly, I will most likely pass away before you could even have this bed paid for…

Husband: Honey, we do need a new bed. You’ve already had 10 bone marrow biopsies and will have so many more. Your back needs the best rest that we can get. Let me take care of you. I love you.

The wife tears up, overwhelmed by the unending loving and support she receives from her husband. The children are excited and are happy that their mom will have something to help her feel better. The husband makes all of the necessary arrangements with Store Clerk #1 and then hugs his wife and makes the kids more excited as they discuss all of the cool things that this bed can do.

The family leaves the Tempur-Pedic Store. The husband now leads the family to a jewlery store. Once again the wife is confused but goes with the flow. Store Clerk #2 greets the husband and meets the wife and children. Store Clerk #2 takes the family over to a display case to look at rings. The wife is already shaking her head…

Wife: Dennis, we are not getting a new ring. I love my wedding band and all it stands for…

Husband: Aimee’, it’s our 15th anniversary and I want to buy you an anniversary ring. We are in this together.

As the wife continues to shake her head, Store Clerk #2 wisely pulls out a ring with 3 marquise-cut diamonds. The children are smiling and saying how beautiful it is…

Store Clerk #2: This anniversary ring is quite special. The three diamonds represent the past, the present and the future.

The husband asks the wife to try on the ring. The wife, crying and aware of what a sight she must be, puts on the ring and can only utter two words…

Wife: It’s perfect.

The husband makes all of the necessary arrangements. The family exits the mall and heads home. The wife, to this day, holds this memory as one full of great love and reflects back on it every morning that she puts on her anniversary ring and every evening when she goes to sleep.

For the wife, this memory not only lasts but is played out fresh every new day – every tomorrow holds a promise of love and support until it becomes yesterday and then the whole circle of life starts up again. For you see, life is full of the past, the present and the future, and each hold an important place in each life. We may not have the same memories, the same present, or the same hopes and dreams for the future; but, we can all share the same truth of unconditional love and support.

Authors Note: Please do not diminish the important supporting roles of Store Clerk #1 and #2. Their kindness and compassion helped weave together this very important memory. Life, like art, is ever-dependent upon the role of the supporting players. Cory, Mathew, Allen, Suzanne and Sarah P, you are stars in my eyes and I am incredibly grateful for your friendship and support.

Dennis, Victoria and Matthew – YOU each inspire me every day. There are no words to express just how big a part you have played in my journey… the days where you were the reasons that I didn’t want to give up… the days that you made horrible days become days filled with laughter… the quiet days, the normal days, the hard days are all perfect because you were in them. I treasure you. I look forward to every future day that I have because you are in them. Thank you for helping me, encouraging me and giving me the greatest gift of all, the gift of your love.