Dear Wayne

Dear Wayne,


Just checking in.

Its been eighteen months since you left us.

I know you're having a well deserved rest in heaven.

Problem is, I miss you very very much.

I'm sorry.

Please come back.

Love,

Diane

Our Bench

August 19, 2013.

          I've started running...again..  was never the fastest...  always proud to be in the middle of the pack. Tended to wonder about those at the back.. Of course the back is were I am now!  

         20 years ago, stumbled upon a great group of women.. and one or two "token males"  lol.. we've run/walked together through life... participating in fun road races,  discussing life events... raising our children, discussing colleges, our jobs, our husband's jobs, our families...

             At first, my darling husband, Wayne rather resented my "running buddies".  I understood.   Sunday morning breakfast often was forgotten in favor of meeting my "buddies for a quick run."  

          Gradually he accepted them.  It helped that he had a huge circle of his own "buddies.."  

         In time, he grew to love my buddies...  As I knew he would.  When he was very sick, they'd show up with casseroles, books, hugs and love... for him.  

                After Wayne died, my running buddies surprised me.  They got a bench at "our park"  and dedicated it to my Wayne. Our Wayne.  Our bench.  When we're done running we can collapse on it. It holds our water bottles, jackets, hats, sunglasses...

        It's sturdy, wide, helpful and beautiful.

       Just like my Wayne  :)

He Loved me Beyond all Reason

I never expected it. Never was looking for it. Never saw it coming.  Just walked right into it. His love for me was endless, all encompassing, wild, crazy. He was life personified. He had so many friends. So many interests. So much energy. So much everything. And he loved me. He really really really loved me. Beyond all reason or understanding. 

Where do I go with this? Where do I take it? What do I do with it? 

This wild, crazy endless love. 

Change

It's pretty amazing how getting out of our comfort zone can be so.. comforting.  Just returned from an 8 hour road trip to Vermont.  Since being widowed, I've been doing a fair amount of driving.  This trip was "extra special" because my darling daughters and mother were along for the fun. Have you ever had three backseat drivers?  

   This was originally planned as my Aunt's burial, but the deluge of July rain in Burlington caused that to be postponed.. again. The first burial was foiled by the frozen soil in January. We think my Aunt prefers her cremains to remain in my cousin's dining room hutch!  But the memorial/party plans were not deterred...  We were pretty lucky to have 35 assorted family and friends from various places joining in for three days of reminiscing, rejoicing and carousing.  

       Now I'm back home.  It' hits me that my Aunt is really gone. She's not coming back. Various relatives raised a glass of "toast" to her, as well as to my darling husband Wayne. He's not coming back either. 

   Is there a lesson in all of this?  There is a lot of joy in this world.  Sometimes we just need to go outside our comfort zone to find it. 

Where is Superwoman?

It's been one year and 15 days since Wayne's body stopped.  Just stopped. His body was alive one minute, and not the next.  May 20th, 2012.  A week before this was Mother's day, May 13th.  The day before that was Saturday. And the hospice team came to meet Wayne, me and our two daughters.  They, by some miracle were both home. They were with their Dad his last day home, ever. 

  Saturday evening Wayne started failing.  He was anxious. He was uncomfortable. He was in pain. He'd developed a nose bleed  which was uncontrollable by 3:00AM.  He said, "I want to go to the hospital".

We'd known that the prostate cancer had spread to his bones 2 years prior. Then it spread to his brain.  He'd had surgeries and radiation to bone and brain. Two years of practically living in the hospital.  Two years of hope intertwined with hell.  Two years of the two of us going to sleep in our comfy bed, and deciding in the middle of the night that something was very wrong.  The midnight runs to the hospital, Memorial Sloan Kettering, which was an hour away.  

  So, why do I have inertia?  I made important decisions every day while Wayne was alive. Medications, Doctor appointments, insurance, financial, and household issues. Everything.

  So why can I now do nothing?  What's wrong with me?  

I was "Superwoman" when he was alive.  

Where is "Superwoman" now?  Where?

  

Prostate Cancer

Yes, Wayne had prostate cancer. He was diagnosed in 2003.  He was really pretty good until 2010 when he had a bone lesion, and surgery for that. Still was able to be pretty "normal"  and fairly active after recuperating from that surgery.

 Then things started deteriorating when we discovered brain metastasis.  I will never forget that day that we learned of this, and the ensuing brain surgery on Feb 11, 2011.  

Still he hung in there and did pretty well until Jan of 12.  He was still up and around with his cane until about April.  Then using his walker until a week and a day before he died.  Mother's Day of 12 was his last day here at home.  He was too fragile to be home after that. Wayne died inpatient hospice on May 20th, 2012.

Sorry to ramble on, but we just had the first anniversary on May 20.  I've been reliving all the details. I guess we tend to do that...

I remember when he was first diagnosed with prostate cancer that many people said, "oh prostate cancer, he'll be ok"   but Wayne had the aggressive kind.  We knew that from the beginning. 

 The pain that Wayne had was a lot for him to deal with.  He was on fentanyl patches, I believe it was 350 micrograms that we changed every other day.  My daughters remember how much pain he was in. I have only blocked out a few things, mentally, but I have blocked out that.

 Diane

My first thoughts

March 30, 2013

My husband died 10 months and 10 days ago.  I feel lost.  Ever since he was diagnosed with cancer 10 years ago, I've wanted to keep a journal... never did.  Then when he was very sick, I was too busy. Then right after he died, I thought I'd keep a journal.  I didn't.  So now, I'm going to try.

      Where to start?  

1. I'm happy to be alive.

2. I'm happy to be healthy.

3. I miss having my husband in the house.

4. I miss the noise he created, the house was  never quiet when he was here.

Diane