Love Remembered

It is Valentine’s Day today.  A “Hallmark Holiday” as I’ve often heard it called.  My husband always bought me the biggest card he could find and sometimes even, he would make his own.  Over the years we learned it wasn’t about Valentine’s Day – it was about every day.  Loving each other deeply and respectfully 365 days a year.

Valentines Day

Today my Facebook memories gave me a reminder of one of our Valentine’s Day from 6 years ago.  A day that I hated and loved but today it hurts more than ever that he had to endure the chemotherapy that poisoned him but did nothing to stop the growth of his aggressive, rare cancer, appendix cancer.  To this day, given his pathology and testing to ensure the drugs he was treated with would benefit him, I will never understand why it did not at least slow down its growth.

Love.  Valentine’s Day. Memories.  These are what remain.

Please love your partner, your soul mate – the one who completes you, every single day.  Life is fleeting.

Today I leave you with a love letter that my dear husband wrote to me as he was dying because This is Love:

Love Letter

Tonight I will be sleeping with my heart wide open.

 

 

Halloween

NERDS 1999

NERDS 1999

Before my husband died, he could have told you without looking at a calendar what day and date he received a phone call.  I know these dates because I have them written down and know the day of the week, but the actual dates have become fuzzy except that Halloween is now a reminder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7-years ago tomorrow, November 1, 2010 at 8am, my husband received a phone call from our primary doctor that he needed to be seen at 5pm in the gastroenterologist’s office to go over results of his CT scan and follow-up from the colonoscopy that preceded the CT.  It was a Monday and the CT was the previous Friday and the colonoscopy the day before that.  Right after that call, he called me at home.  I could tell immediately that there was something wrong.  He told me he would come home and pick me up to go with for his appointment.  Of course nobody would say what the issue was but we knew it wasn’t good because our test results were always given over the phone.  We were completely blindsided.  The gastroenterologist began by drawing pictures.  First was a piece of carpet with the padding and then carpet and carpet fibers on top.  He explained that 3 years prior when my husband had a polyp removed inside his colon that the polyp removed was in situ, so basically it sat in the top layers of the carpet fibers and did not penetrate to the pad.  He explained the likelihood of cells with the results of the CT scan, that likely cells penetrated through during that time because the CT showed a very large tumor in the very spot that polyp was removed; at the cecum and that it was likely cancer because he also had peritoneal carcinomatosis which meant that it had spread throughout his abdomen.  We were speechless.  I asked everything that I could think of, but my brain was so overcome with fear or more possibly shock, that I didn’t get too many thoughts out.  While in that office, the doctor immediately got on the phone and called an oncologist and made an appointment for us for two days later, first thing in the morning.    7 years of grief, life altering, life distinguishing news that he had cancer.  There’s no need to rehash the details here, they are written in journals for now.  By Friday of that week we had a definitive diagnosis from biopsy – appendix cancer.

I am a changed woman because of what my husband had to endure.  I hold no anger because he was ravaged by a rare disease, but I hold disappointment in my heart and sadness not only for myself and my family, but mostly for him because he embraced life and all it had to offer with such incredible zest.  He was an amazing patient, an incredibly strong human being both physically and emotionally to have lived with his cancer diagnosis for as long as he did, knowing each day that he would die from it.  I so wish this did not happen to him, but it did.  I’m glad God ended his suffering when the miracle of a cure was not possible.  I’m grateful that I was the one to love him and walk him home.

Maybe one day Halloween time won’t be a reminder of our lives being turned upside down.   I will concentrate today on the fun we always had and continue my gratitude for the laughter that was so prevalent in our lives.

“That Life”

IMG_0979Things I have thought, learned, or observed since becoming a widow, in no particular order:

It is not unusual to question my sanity and wake up some days and wonder if “that life” really happened.

It is difficult to forget “the end”.

Day-dreaming big dreams can be okay even if they never come to fruition.

I have observed that I love solitude even if it’s not very healthy.

I have become severely arachnophobic (fear of spiders).

I have accepted that no matter how much I care for some people, that their perceived memories cannot be changed.

I have removed people from my life without regret.

I have learned to walk away from people who have hidden agendas.

I have learned that first impressions are generally accurate impressions in the long-term.

I have recognized my own strength as being a good mom, evidenced in how my children behave and treat others.

I have observed that my intentions are always better in the moment – putting them into action is difficult.

I dream about sitting at the beach watching sunsets and sunrises, constantly.

I have learned, recognized and accepted that my basic need to keep moving forward is laughter.

It is ridiculous how difficult it is to make and keep a commitment when you question yourself constantly.

I can have a love/hate relationship with myself from hour to hour when good thoughts flow and dark thoughts creep in.

Memories rush in at inopportune times.

I see things and people differently than when I lived “that life”.

It’s easy to give in to an “I don’t care” attitude.

I believe I have peniaphobia (the fear of being poor).

It’s difficult to go through medical issues without someone holding your hand.

It is sad to realize that some decisions must be made because you no longer live “that life”.

It’s easy to get upset at people who complain about little things.

Sometimes I fall back on what I knew prior to “that life” – good or bad.

It’s all but impossible to imagine my future life because I live day by day.

I have found hope and laughter in places where I never thought I would find them.

I have a greater appreciation for old age and the privilege of getting there.

I still believe I had the best marriage a person could ask for and that love never dies.

 

When the unexpected happens

Can grief be put into repose as in laid to rest; the very reason for grief and the messy aftermath of death?
I wish I knew.  Today is 30 months and I’m not crying!
Yesterday I went to our favorite department store to find a few new articles of clothing (yeah for some weight loss) and I was thinking about how excited I was to purchase a couple of items when I looked up and saw a display of “Hawaiian Shirts” … these were Keith’s signature from retirement until death, along with his flannels of course.
So here I was, alone, tears streaming down my face and trying to hide from people.  There was nowhere to go, I needed to check out and stand in line.  I sent a text to my daughter and one of my sisters with this picture IMG_6727 (2)and said, I should not go shopping this time of year.  They knew.  It does help to have others who know the little idiosyncrasies and intimate details of what you’re talking about when you send a text like that.  Both took time to acknowledge my sadness and to make me laugh.  My go to people because Keith was the first to add humor to my life and I miss that so much.  I laughed out loud at something my sister sent me and then realized I really don’t care if someone saw tears – they are an emotion of sadness but can also fall with laughter.  There is something very powerful in owning your own feelings and not having to shelter others from them.  This is my journey and nobody else can feel what I feel!
I think that grief is a word that can’t truly be defined.  In the Oxford Dictionary it is in part described as …”intense sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death”.  But to me, you cannot describe intense sorrow because it is individualistic.  One could summarize my event at the department store as grief but my feelings were not embedded in intense sorrow.  I was momentarily caught off guard at not being able to buy him a new shirt and how much joy it brought him when I would come home to show him my bargains, because only when you have a certain percent off do you go shopping!  So it stung to know I don’t have that particular ability to create his happiness anymore.
Death of a spouse is not only difficult when that person was your world, but it changes the way you perceive yourself and sometimes, it takes a while to get there.  My world collapsed.  My world collapsed many times throughout my life and each time, there was some one or some thing to allow me to build a new foundation.  My husband’s death has given me a different type of foundation to build on.  This time it is me building me with no reason to look beyond myself for anyone or anything to help me build a beautiful future.  Because that man gave me the strength to believe in myself, the impermeable foundation is already there.
It’s actually a good day.  My husband does not have appendix cancer anymore!  He defied all odds in living as long as he did given his status and he did it with such vigor and always with a smile on his face.  What it in the world do I have to complain about?

It’s June.

Summer is upon us.  June is one of “those months” … reminders.  The 9th will be 2-1/2 years that my husband took his last breath and the day I lost a huge piece of my heart .  The 16th will be 5 years that we renewed our vows at a surprise anniversary party.  The 18th will mark 5 years that we first stepped onto the Island of Oahu in what became our personal glimpse of heaven. The 22nd … we would have been married 23 years.

I am sad.  I am happy.  Some days I truly feel bipolar with the up and down emotions.  But most of all, I am so grateful for what was, for what always will be in my heart.  I am a survivor.  I am hopeful.  I am free from doubt.

Today I stand in front of the mirror and tell myself that I am strong.  I have overcome obstacles personally and spiritually that I shouldn’t have had to in my mid 50’s and I know that I am not alone in the space created by death.

I was asked recently “How do you like living alone?” The answer is complex.

I love it for the fact that I am able to do what I want when I want with no accountability to anyone but me.  If I want to stay up through the middle of the night and sleep in the next day, there is nothing stopping me.  I fix what I want to eat when I want to eat it.  There are no rules and I can make them up as I go along.  My memories sustain me every day.

The second part of that question is that more than anything, I wish my husband did not die.  I wish that appendix cancer did not ravage his body.  I wish that there were better treatments so that I could be sitting next to him and deciding together what we would eat, when we would go to bed and what we would do for the day.  So, the long and short of it, I love it and I hate it.  Once again, up and down in a very bipolar way.  Unfortunately there are no medications to help that part.  I do believe the future will hold hope for others when surgical cure is not possible.

My purpose in life changes often, but the changes are always purposeful.

My purpose this June is to enjoy my memories and remember the love that always will be.

 

 

0.778

“The only thing constant is change.” – Heraclitus of Ephesus

Today is, for the most part a typical Sunday morning, the clouds are abundant and the streets damp with the rain that fell last night.  It’s early at 5:15 a.m. and I didn’t go to sleep until midnight.

What is this energy I feel that isn’t typical?  Ever-evolving I am.

The other day I was looking for something and ran across an ancient pedometer that I believe my husband had brought home from some golf outing he attended.  Like most things fitness, it either went into a corner, was given away or thrown into a drawer.  This is the most basic of pedometers that you can find.  It tracks your calories, kilometers and miles.  Not steps, but that is okay – any step forward is better than back.

I went to that pedometer which seriously has to be no less than eight years old and pulled the small piece of paper attached to it to see what type of battery it would take.  In doing so, I pushed a button and the display came on.  “Some battery” I thought to myself as I began pushing the buttons. 0000 meant I had an awful lot of work to do.  It’s a balmy 60 degrees Fahrenheit, a nice breeze.  I can do this.

Like my husband’s death, we planned for it.  We knew it was coming and it would change my life in ways I had only imagined.  But I could have never imagined how much it would change.  I’ve lifted the covers from my head to the point I can breathe a bit easier.  I no longer need that filter to embrace the daylight.

Last week I took the incredible challenge to change.  I began a weight loss program and this morning, I used that pedometer.  I promised myself when I moved last year that I was going to do this.  I need to get healthy again.  I did try but often met neighbors who walk their dogs and wanted to chat – once that happened, my walks never continued as I need to walk alone at a pace that is comfortable to me.  I need to do this, I want to do this.  I am 4 lbs. down … and today I logged 0.778 miles on that pedometer.  It is baby steps.  I have a long way to go but when I realize my grief began with my husband’s diagnosis, I’ve been living this heavy burden for six and a half years.  Indeed it is time for change – my habits, my health and my life are as important as the man I loved, cared and advocated for.  As I walked this morning, I imagined him telling me “honey, you can do this and I am with you every painful step of the way.”

I don’t care much for change, especially when it is out of my control, but hopefully, the tools of faith, hope and the desire for change, will bring me further into the light of joy.

On Friday evening, I was privileged to return to the site of the Beloved retreat that I attended in January.  This time I was able to carry the luggage of new retreat-ants and light their path in the darkness to knowing they are beloved.  As I came together in community with others I had met on my own retreat, others who had attended at different times and once again my daughter at my side, I was able to share with them just how much I grew from my own experience there and that I did in fact keep my promise to find joy.

We do not always know when we go about our own lives how we sometimes affect others.  Sometimes, out of the blue, you can be called upon and a split second decision to say yes or no can make or break a person or situation.  I used to be a constant yes.  Grief began to change that and that is not the person my husband fell in love with.  Yesterday I said yes again to someone, to help them sort their feelings, their fears and angst and talk them through a situation that otherwise may have ended differently.  We do not know when we will be called – either spiritually or literally, but if we open our hearts to the possibility that carrying the load for others when they are burdened with the weight of the world, we can become the change that another person is seeking.

A step outside of our own comfort zone does not need to be a heavy task.  I can say with a smile in my heart, I am beginning, truly beginning to find joy.

 

Twenty-Three Years Ago

That old-time feeling comes around again.  It could be the time of year.  We were introduced in March of 1994 at physical therapy.  We fell head over heels at an informal gathering of patients on April 8th a mere two or three weeks later.

I get that prickly sensation and my heart skips a beat when I think of our first evening.  We played darts and imbibed on seemingly endless bottles of beer.  The music blared and he whispered in my ear a few times. The more crowded it became, the closer he had to move toward me – there was electricity in the air.

After a failed attempt at a second marriage and going it alone for the two previous years, a relationship was the last thing on my mind.  What was it about this guy?  What a smile! What a laugh!  What a touch!  It may have been the gentleness of his voice.  It may have been that he asked questions about me, about my life and willingly shared his story.  Reciprocal respect with an eagerness to listen – what a novel approach toward never-ending love!  Above all, he was the kindest person I have ever met.

He was newly divorced with children and a grandchild on the way.  I was struggling to get the funds together for my own court proceedings.  My children were gone for the weekend and this was a Friday night.  It must have been about midnight and I did not want the night to end.  Our PT friends had all gone home and I knew that I needed to leave as well.  I had not felt like this in a long time.  Was he my knight in shining armor come to rescue the woman who only wanted someone to love and to be loved back with the same intensity?  We were married seventy-six days later in the most unceremonious of events at a court-house with our 5 children in tow.

 

April 1994

April 1994 – meeting my parents for the first time

As the goosebumps arrive at the memories of the beginning of our relationship, I smile.  Yes, it was the best time of my life and it continued to be the best love to the end.  Sometimes throwing caution to the wind can reap the most amazing of benefits.  In this case, it was the love of a lifetime.  My life is not over, but his ended too soon by a horrible disease called appendix cancer/pseudomyxoma peritonei.

When I think about the twist of fate, I am forever grateful that he chose to go out that night and that I threw caution to the wind and would not change a thing in our relationship.   Neither of us was perfect but there never a more perfect match for each other!

I am blessed and I will love him forever.

Choices, Consequences and Life

 

trust and faithI have started to blog several times because I have a lot to say (surprised, aren’t you?) and then have ended up deleting because it all sounded so whiny.

Choices – as a reasonably responsible adult I knew I would have to make a choice about my living situation.  It was becoming apparent that I was sinking deeper and deeper into a situation financially that was not going to have a good outcome.  Here I was, for the first time in my life, living alone in a big house in which I generally occupy 3 rooms – the kitchen, family room and my bedroom.  The rest of the house was taking up space in my pocketbook and in my head.  I had to move so I made the choice to call a realtor to get “an idea” of what I might sell the house for.  Things moved swiftly with the help of a few wonderful people and the house was put on the market in two weeks from first meeting and then subsequently sold 14-days later.  Okay – now what?  The new buyer wanted to close in a month and I had no clue where I was going to live!  To say that I became a crazed insomniac would be putting it mildly.  Day and night I was searching for the perfect home … somewhere close to where I used to live, about 40 minutes north of where I am now.   I would be closer to the grandkids.  I could find nothing in my price range that didn’t have 15 or more stairs (hey I’m “oldish” now).  For what I could find, my car wouldn’t even fit in the garage.  To know me is to know that my vehicle should always be protected from the environment … to make matters worse; it would cost me what I am currently paying.

Yeah, not all things in life work out the way we want them to work out, but they do work perhaps as they are intended.  In the meantime I needed to get a pre-approval for a new mortgage and submit the necessary documentation.  I have learned that I keep way too much “stuff” but I am organized in most of it.  That financial process, for the most part was easy and approval came two days later.  What I wasn’t expecting was an IRS issue.  Stress … when you open your mailbox and receive a letter from the IRS.  It happened to come on the day of our annual TEAM KEITH fund raising event.  That was a Saturday and I had to wait until Monday to contact both the new loan company and the IRS.  I needed to submit 3-years’ worth of tax returns.  I did that.  But as a normal course of business, the lenders will generally have you sign a document requesting IRS transcripts.  It’s sort of a double check that what you provided is actually what was filed.  This is a public service announcement: If you apply for a loan and you have previous filed a joint return with your spouse and request records and he/she was the primary on said taxes, the file will be flagged.  Dead people should not be applying for mortgages – period.  I learned that in fact, people will try to do that in an identity theft scenario so the IRS began doing this “flagging” upon final tax returns for the deceased.  All is well that ends well, and I was able to have the IRS fax me the 33 pages necessary after giving my crazed, manic-even, sob-story to the agent on the end of the phone line!

Back to the story, I was out with my Realtor looking for a home and becoming very discouraged.  On a whim, I had asked to see a home or homes within a 55 plus community – the opposite direction of where I wanted to go and about 10 minutes south of where I am now, but quite close (maybe too close for him) to my son.  I was not thrilled, but did not rule it out either.  On the last day of looking for a few hours, I sat in my Realtors car, put my hands over my face and cried “what have I done”?  I was second guessing myself … maybe I could have stretched the pennies a bit more and just stayed … now the house has a pending contract, a cash deal and I’m closing in 29 days … I have nowhere to go.  At that moment, the realtor’s phone rang and it was her office assistant.  The seller of the home I had not ruled out just lowered the sales price.  I asked my brother in-law to come and see it with me … and the next morning, he and my sister in law came and gave their blessing.  It’s got “good bones” he told me.  The kitchen though … it needs a major overhaul.  My brother in law said he would do the remodel … As my Realtor and they stood in the kitchen talking, I walked into the main living space which I will call my great room and I swear, I don’t know, out of nowhere, I heard my husband’s voice … “make it our home honey”.  I looked at my brother in law and gave him a dollar figure and said “tell me what you can do” … so things moved quickly – I made an offer and it was accepted.  My daughter and friends came and helped me pack one day I am almost completely done.  I will move on the 9th of September, and fortunately, was able to negotiate with the buyers of my current home a rent-back for these 9 days.  The new home will be painted on the interior this coming weekend.  Yes, I am a woman blessed.

The new home is not the home of my dreams; I am leaving that one behind.  My dreams were fulfilled in this home and it is a bittersweet move.  In reality, Keith and I knew that someday we would downsize and oh how I wish we were doing this move together, but I feel his love and presence every step of the way.  I had the pleasure of meeting the new owners on their final walk through last night and they have two small children.  This home needs life again, and I know they are the perfect buyer.  I told them that I hope they love the home as much as my husband and I did and they were so excited in saying, “we do”.  I am happy for them and I am happy to leave them with a home in pristine condition – a reflection of the best parts of Keith and me together.

Consequences – Everything we do in life provides a consequence, sometimes good and sometimes bad.  I truly believed in my heart I needed to be where Keith and I began further north; after all he is buried there.  There is 15 minutes added to my commute to get there (minus rush hour traffic) … I am not readily available on short notice for the grandkids being further away, but as it turns out, they don’t need me like they used to.  My daughter is happily married to the man of her dreams and they have their family dynamics worked out perfectly.  Being closer to my son is just an added bonus and he need not worry about me “dropping in” because that’s not my style.  The consequences of this move are positive ones so far … it was a very wise financial decision and my insomnia should lessen over this issue once settled in.  I am looking forward to living on one level, with two spare rooms for those grandma sleepovers and my essential office equipment.

Life – It continues to happen whether we want it to or not, so I have decided to be present in it.  I am looking forward to a big conference in Washington, DC in November with the ACPMP Research Foundation and I will be starting some volunteer work at my local hospital in the spiritual care department as well.  I hope to meet new people and engage with others again and not sit at my computer 24/7 like I have the past few years.  I want to be healthy of mind and body and the only way to do that is to make positive changes.  I think I just made my first step.  I am choosing life.  I am grateful for my faith to see me through.

“But It’s Painful,” I Cried.

Are they baby steps or are they giant leaps?  I am such a bag of mixed emotions.  There are huge changes happening around me and here I am, almost paralyzed again.  I miss my life.  I miss my best friend.  I miss being loved.  I miss being “in love”.

I have to make critical decisions about my future and doing it without the guidance of my husband is brutal.  Don’t get me wrong, I am quite capable of making decisions but I second guess myself at every turn.  I’ve talked to some family and a few friends, and everything makes sense, but I can’t seem to move in the direction that I need to.

I read a lot of blogs, many of my friends write them and I generally shake my head and think, yes, thank you for articulating what my heart feels.  Most of them write from the same depth of sorrow as me.  I started this almost 18 months ago as a place of self-healing.  Boy was I wrong.  There is no healing from this.  What I mean to say is that it is survivable, but healing is for illness.  I’m not ill, but I guess you could say I’m heart-sick.  I get so frustrated with myself.  Deep wounds such as the one my husband had from his surgery that became infected, needed to heal from the inside out.  I’m afraid I’ve covered my wound with a Band-Aid and it never healed from the inside first.  Society reminds us that grief is a stage, not a place to stay.  I’d most like to say to society right now, F-CK YOU.  This hurts.  Layer by layer my soul is being eaten away by this grief.

No, I have absolutely NOT lost my faith.  I can’t wait to get to heaven – but I have to.  People move on with their lives and here I am.  What a miserable place to be.  My doctor asked me recently if I thought I was depressed.  I should have said, probably.  I don’t believe I am clinically depressed but my life without him is depressing.  It’s very difficult to look for a future when there really isn’t one that I can envision.  I’m tired.  I am tired of feeling like I am chained to a broken heart.  I’m tired of thinking about what am I going to do?  It’s exhausting.  Right after my husband died, I slept very well.  I surprised myself, even.  But the last year or so have been awful for a full night sleep.

I hope my decisions for the future are ones that he will agree with.  Because already, one of our future plans for me has changed but it’s like his death, out of my control.   I know for sure, I am beyond sad.  Many widowed bloggers talk about the second year being the most difficult.  Today I know what they mean.

I have to say that I have always felt that writing my feelings down on paper was cleansing and since starting my husband’s CaringBridge® and sharing his illness and our thoughts and fears with people, I have continued to do that.  I like reading blogs where there is hope and a realization that everything is going to be okay.  I loved writing those types of updates – they were real, honest, raw feelings filled with hope.  I don’t seem to be there at the moment though.

I want to move at a quicker pace and not stay stuck in these feelings.  Despite our conversations, I know he would want me to be happy – I just don’t know what that looks like right now.  I took a step in letting go.  I deactivated his Facebook.  It’s not like he could respond to anybody.  It hurt.  It was painful and I cried.

Of Love and Fear – The beginning

March 1 2016
It was the second week of November 2010.  Keith was heading into day-surgery to have his port placement.  I needed something other than my earbuds and music, so I quickly made my way to the gift shop while he was being prepped.

I found what I was looking for.  It felt strange to look for hope in an object outside of faith. But there is was – FAITH & HOPE! I think I needed to do something with my hands, something to hold … there was no thought of thumbing through magazines… Who could concentrate on words?

There I sat, my world crumbling, listening to the words of “Nights in Rodanthe” sung by Emmylou Harris.  My mind could not stop going to a bad place.  It was just under two weeks of finding out he had cancer and three days after the diagnosis:peritoneal carcinomatosis – mucinous adenocarcinoma of appendiceal origin.

I was lost, sitting in an open room with others waiting for their loved ones, all by myself in every sense of the word.  The procedure was simple and would not take long to place in his chest.  But there was a waiting period afterward and then he was sent off to x-ray to make sure the port was placed where it needed to be, and that’s when the general surgeon came out to tell me he did well with the placement.  I had been in my own little world and must have looked and sounded as if I had just heard the news my husband succumbed to the disease.   I looked up when I heard, “Mrs. Surges” and that was it.  I lost it.  I sobbed, right then and there.  This procedure was nothing compared to what Keith would endure in the future.  The surgeon looked at me as I was trying to catch my breath and apologize for my emotions, “This is scary, serious stuff – I know.”  From that day forward, I never apologized for my emotions (unless I couldn’t get the words out, more an apology for the delay … you know I’ve spoken before about the sobbing snot-cry … not pretty).

I so needed to find a way to put my game-face on for Keith.  I did, and would do again, anything for that man.  Chemo was going to begin in two days.  Our lives forever changed by the word cancer, our hearts full of love for each other and the thought of how scary and serious this “stuff” was, brought out a fearlessness like I had never known.  I could do whatever it took to the save my husband.  In the end, I have no doubt he was saved from the cancer and the unfairness of it all.

I’m not the same person I was in November 2010 – I am a better person.  I have always been a kind person and have always been a caregiver.  I don’t hold on to metal pieces anymore.  I still listen to Nights in Rodanthe and cry.  It’s a musical score in a movie by the same name about love and loss and how to pick up the pieces in the face of tragedy I am living my life as Keith would have me live it; without fanfare, without guilt and without feeling the need to say I’m sorry for my emotions.  I think I use my emotions productively.  I hold onto the beautiful memories I had with Keith secure in the knowledge that I truly did help save him.

The world just had Rare Disease Day on February 29th.  It is sad that Keith didn’t get to lend his own voice but I believe my voice is a combination of both.