Letting Go, Starting Over

Nearly a month has passed since I lasted posted an entry on this blog. Many of our friends have contacted us through cards, e-mails and phone calls. I apologize for not responding. The past month has been a major life transition for us and we have been overwhelmed most of the time just getting through the challenges of the day. I have been awake since 3:30 am and finally decided to sit down and write about what I've been thinking.

Nearly everyone who knows us asks me with the most sincere intentions: "how are you doing?" I'll just answer that this morning by letting you know that for the first time in nearly three years I can tell you that I feel like we are actually doing well.

Our 9/11 occurred on December 23, 2003 when we met with the doctors at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC) and heard Vicki's diagnosis. Some of you may not be aware that after the meeting at MSKCC Vicki and I had several hours before our train departed Penn Station. We took a taxi cab down to the World Trade Center Site, walked along the perimeter and then sat down on a bench along the Hudson river. We talked for a long time and sat in silent devastation for even longer because the news that Vicki would not survive this disease. We grieved together, and now seperately, ever since that moment.

Throughout the three years of Vicki's illness, we anticipated Vicki's eventual departure. We had hoped for another answer, a miracle, or a breakthrough treatment, but as time passed we increasingly became aware that Vicki's time was limited. Through the early months of 2006 Vicki's condition grew steadily worse and she gradually became less and less a part of our daily lives due to her failing health. I remember so clearly the day, August 23rd, when she woke up confused and disoriented and now recognize that those symptoms were the clear signs that she was at the end of her struggle. In the end I felt an uncomfortable mix of grief over her loss and relief that her suffering had ceased.

Since Vicki's burial we have attempted to let go and start our lives over again. I have to confess that for me this is an inconsistent process. Others who have already travelled this journey have assured me that it gets better over time and I believe them. Still others have told me that I will never fully recover. I think that is probably true too. In fact, I do not want to fully recover, I want to hold on some. Her life and memories are priceless treasures that deeply influenced the three of us, and many others in her circle of friends and family.

Although a cliche to many, the phrase "one day at a time" has become a concept to rebuild my life upon. Matthew 6:34 tells us to live one day at a time: "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself." And, it seems at this point I have little choice. Single parent life has really challenged me to find the right balance over the past month. Through a number of trials and errors I think we are making the necessary adjustments and moving on. Our fall schedule packs in three birthdays, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Although we are not nearly as proficient as Vicki, I think we are retaining many of the traditions we established as a family and this provides the girls an important sense of stability. Vicki hoped and expected that we would continue on even after she was gone, and we honor her by doing so.

Lauren, me, and Kelly at Andrea's wedding in St. Louis, MO on September 30th, 2006. We are moving on with life one day at a time.

Vicki's grave at Chestnut Grove the day after the burial and memorial service. I am in the process of deciding on a monument for the grave.

Pastor Neal Jones with Kelly, Lauren and I just after Vicki's burial at Chestnut Grove.