Author Archives: Victory Chest

Was David a dream?

29 Friday Aug 2014

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There are moments that I have found myself wondering irrationally if David really existed or if it was all a dream that I am waking up from. Did I imagine him – his love, his character, my life with David? I am quick to realize that it was not a dream, I know he existed, plus our children are the best reminder of my dearest David.

I have never heard that wondering if a loved one really existed is part of grieving, so I questioned where the thoughts that David may have been a dream is coming from. I assume it is because I struggle to understand my life without him. Plus, my life with David was the life I dreamed of AND it was my reality. Now my new reality has me questioning if the one I dreamed of actually happened.

Strangely, in the early years of our relationship, I wrote a note to David and titled it “Dreams”. It was about our love and how it was too good to be true and must be a dream that would eventually end. This letter is an eerily reflection of my current predicament.

I remember the thought behind the letter at that time. It was a reflection of the fact that were from two different worlds and cultures and while everything seemed perfect to us, we questioned if it was possible to have a future together.

In retrospect, I want to rewrite the letter and emphasize that I would not be waking up from my perfect dream.

A picture of the letter “Dreams” is shown below.

Dreams of David

Dreams of David

 

Memories from songs

25 Monday Aug 2014

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Summer with David

Summer with David

Different songs reminds me of different phases of my life. There are songs that remind me of the summer I met David. In fact, David compiled those songs on a tape called “Summer 96”. There are songs that remind me of our wedding, becoming parents, and many other happy occasions.

There are also songs that remind me of unhappier times. Songs that remind me of how we tried to find strength after we got news that the cancer reoccured. There are songs l listened to frequently in the final stages of the disease. I recall the trip to the emergency room late last year, for the first time I was truly afraid that David may not come back home. I wept all the way to the hospital as I listened to a song in the car by Passenger, titled “let her go”.

Contrary to the title, it did not mean I was ready to let go. To me, the lyrics focused more on love and how much more you appreciate someone when you are afraid of losing them. I was so afraid of losing David – his smile, his voice, his energy, his love.

Songs have a way of bringing me smiles or sadness. A song can brings smiles at one moment and at another moment, the same song can bring tears and sadness. Today, as I drove with my daughters, one of our songs from Summer 96 came on and before I could change it, my older daughter started crying and said “NO, turn it off, that is one of Daddy’s songs and it is making me sad”.

Clearly, the song was having a similar effect on both of us today. For me, it was a reminder of my carefree years – when i felt invincible – contrary to the vulnerability I was feeling today. For my daughter, it was a reminder that Daddy no longer plays his songs in the house. So we changed to a song that reminded of us of our vacation earlier in the year.

Overall, the comfort from listening to songs surpasses any emotional anguish. David enjoyed his music. He played it loudly when he could. He collected them in different formats including the retro records and tapes. I thank David for broadening my taste in music. I also know that I influenced him with some of my musical preferences.

Godparents

18 Monday Aug 2014

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David with the Godparents and our older daughters

When our older daughter was born, it just seemed procedural that we would choose Godparents. I asked David who the Godparents would be, without hesitation he selected my dearest friend from College and her husband who was also his best man at our wedding.

At that time, it was more of a reflections of valued friendship, trust, and our relationship. I never gave much thoughts to what having Godparents really meant other than the associated religious ceremonies or celebrating events together. I certainly never even thought of the notion that they were selected so that they would be available to step in in the absence of a parent.

I am thankful for David’s choice of Godparent for our daughters. Over the years, our friendship has remained solid. Even when life situation kept us geographically apart, we always stayed connected and even vacationed together.  They have never missed a birthday, anniversary or any other special event in our lives.

This summer, I am especially thankful for all the time we spent together as their family helped brightened the summer for me and my children.

The receipt in the jacket

09 Saturday Aug 2014

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David in his jacket at our anniversary dinner

David in his jacket at our anniversary dinner

David was typically very casual and once he found an item of clothing he liked, he would wear it consistently until it is worn out. This is especially true for his jacket, blue jeans, and shoes.

He was especially fond of his leather jacket. He had broken into it nicely over the years and it was like it had become a part of his body. Even in the frigid winter, his leather jacket was his go to jacket. I recall our good friend telling me that anytime she thinks of David, she sees him in his leather jacket.

I remember arguing with David as we travelled transatlantic and he decided to travel with his leather jacket and I asked that he wore something that was newer. Adamantly, he insisted on wearing it saying it was comfortable for traveling.

Last night, my older daughter saw the jacket hanging in the same place David left it. She wanted to look at it so we went through the pockets.  I was secretly hoping to find a letter from David with a message that will bring me some much needed encouragement given that I was emotionally drained.

In the chest pocket, I found a receipt from our last dinner together. It was our anniversary dinner. I recall that day very well. We wanted to be our old selves again but there were glaring signs of the illness. We did not have an appetite plus I had no desire to have a cocktail knowing David was unable to have any. Nothing felt normal, in fact both our minds were heavy probably as we saw how the disease had changes us and also feared what may be next.

We finally agreed to call it a night. It was not the dinner we wanted and David especially felt disappointed. He wanted another chance to have a better meal in a better atmosphere and hopefully with less stress. The next day, he gave me a card asking for a do-over. Unfortunately, we were never able to have our do-over dinner.

Seeing the receipt in pocket last night made me burst out crying and got my daughter who has been missing David so much lately to join in the crying. It reminded me of the sadness I felt that night perhaps because a part of me was afraid it could be our last anniversary. I also reminded me that it was the last time I dined with David, something that we did so frequently in the past especially before kids and even with kids.

I sat with my daughter for while until we pulled ourselves together and put the receipt back in his jacket.

Below is a picture of the do-over card he gave me, inside he wrote a note about how we can overcome and we can beat the odds. I still choose to believe this is true, we will overcome, cancer will never claim victory over us.

IMG_71

 

Taboo “D” words

03 Sunday Aug 2014

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The picture David always kept in his wallet

I still struggle to use the words “dead” or “died” when referring to David even when writing on this blog. I prefer using words that are frankly more meaningless because they feel less hurtful to me. As I result, I use phases like “absence, loss, passing, gone etc. I also do not recall anyone that expressed condolences using any of the “D’ words, I assume this is true for many of the sympathy cards also. I understand this completely since alternative words appear to soften to harshness of death even if it fails to fully communicate the reality of the death. \

A word like “absence” suggest that he missed something like a meeting or an appointment. Passing is even vaguer – what does that mean, passed to where? The word “loss” implies that he is to be found and “gone” may be inferred to indicate that he left for the day – like he will be back the next day.

I recall having to tell my older daughter on that fateful day that “Daddy died”. As I type this my heart sinks again. That is the most painful phrase I have ever used. I tried to prepare ahead for how to communicate death with the girls. I read that it is better to communicate death as it is with kids so they are not confused with more passive phrases that may lead them to think the person is coming back. Using words that suggest that the deceased has gone for an eternal sleep I understood could introduce additional anxiety to children since they may become afraid of sleeping and never waking up.

I know it was necessary to be direct in communicating what happened with my older daughter. I believe it conveyed the message immediately. This however did not translate to instant grief. My older daughter actually took the news better than expected at first. Her grief was delayed and I have come to understand that this is expected given her age.

David is not coming back. He died. I get it but it is so cruel, so mean, so evil. I hate the word. I have yet to come to terms with using the word – and I do not know if I ever will or want to. Each time I say “David died”, I lose a bit more of my sanity and composure. How can this be my reality?  Perhaps it is the part of me that still function in a state of denial that prefers to avoid the “D” word.  The passive phrases remains my preference because they are not as crass.

This cancer beast must be stopped

29 Tuesday Jul 2014

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I am shocked by how many people and families are affected by cancer. As I talk more freely about David’s battle with cancer and our struggle, I have gotten to know many others that have been affected with cancer. Some have/had cancer, have a loved one with cancer, or lost a family member to this beast.

This beast has interrupted or destroyed so many lives. The faces of people affected are vast, it does not discern age, race, gender, or ethnicity. There are so many conflicting messages on what causes various types of cancer, what causes one form may be said to prevent another. It seems like a guessing game. It speaks to the fact that there is so much unknown about cancer.

Granted some progress have been made in fighting some forms of cancer but clearly we are still so far behind in the fight against this beast. Some of the cancers that have been well funded and research such as breast cancer still continues to take one too many lives. And there are so many other types of cancers lacking considerably in research and progress such as bladder cancer. For bladder cancer, one of the standard chemo has been available for over two decades and has dismal effectiveness especially when the cancer is more advanced.

Why is the dismal prognosis status-quo for many patients with advanced cancer while most routine medical check-ups do not allow for early diagnosis of many cancers? What can be done to better detect more cancers earlier? What can be done to better understand the cause of cancer?

David was good about going to the Doctor. He had his routine medical exams and made periodic trips to the doctors whenever he did not feel good. His primary care doctor knew him well as did his Urologist. So with all the frequent visits and periodic complaints about discomfort in his bladder, how come bladder cancer was not ruled out earlier? Why were they so quick to assume he had UTI and frequently prescribed antibiotics? Even if it was UTI, at what point would it have made sense to try to better understand the cause of the reoccurring UTIs rather than just treating the symptoms? How did a Urologist fail to recognize some of the hallmark symptoms of bladder cancer?

In my irrational state of grief and also despair during David’s illness, I have wondered if the prefer approach for handling cancer is to manage the disease rather than curing it. People have become accustomed to words like remission – a word that clearly does not reflect a cure but in my view may add to the anticipation that the beast may return.

Let’s kill the cancer beast! We are an intelligent generation, the progress in science and technology in the last century has been remarkable. There have been so much progress in treating and curing diseases that devastated lives centuries and even decades ago. Cancer will not be an exception.  We need better treatment with better results, not months improvement in survival, not years, we need a cure. We need medications that do not cause worse symptoms than the disease.

I write without a solution but with great hope that it can be done. I am optimistic for our generation and I am more optimistic for my children’s generation. No cancer death should be in vain…..let’s conquer this beast.

My Daddy is lost

24 Thursday Jul 2014

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This week has been very challenging emotionally.  My daughters have cried almost every night asking for their Daddy. The nightly tears are present regardless of the fact that they are having a nice summer. It reflects the sadness we carry around with you regardless of the happy moments.

A few nights ago, when my younger daughter was crying for her Daddy, I asked her if she dreams about Daddy.  Angrily, she looked at me and said “no, my Daddy is lost”. I could no longer hold back my tears. She has waited long enough for her Daddy to come home. She believes that her Daddy is in the sky and in her heart. She misses him and wants him to come back to her, back to the way life used to be. Since this has not happened she resorted to thinking he is lost.

This is how she understands the absence of her Daddy.  As I reflected on her comment, I realized that I often write about David like he is lost when I speak of “my loss of David”. It made me wonder if or how kids grief differently from adult. I know grief is real even in young kids. A few people have suggested to me that the girls would be fine since they are young – like this in some way should make them resilient.

I guess it depends on what is defined as fine because there is nothing fine about having them grow up without David. I certainly hope they would learn to always find happiness and come to terms with the premature death of their Dad. But right now, we are really struggling with his loss and I feel lost without David.

Road trips with David

19 Saturday Jul 2014

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David driving on our honeymoon

David driving on our honeymoon

I see the dust accumulating on David’s car in the garage and I am painfully reminded of his absence. I miss him driving me and the girls. I miss going places with David. I console myself with fun memories of road trips we had.

David enjoyed driving, we went on so many road trips together. Driving was his default mode of transportation. Flying was only considered when it was more than a 10-hour drive each way. He prepped the car for the road trips ensuring that we were prepared for many situations. The blankets, pillows and bottles of water were some of the most essential items.

David drove and I enjoyed being the passenger and at times the annoying co-pilot. On rare occasions, he would let me drive after I remained adamant that he needed a break.

I remembered the first time I got in a car with David and I also have so many fun memories of driving with David. We tried to spend as much time together even when we did not have any destination in mind. We saw lots of sunrises and sunsets. We drove across State line and explored neighboring States. I enjoyed napping on the longer trips. MacDonald was the preferred stop for restroom breaks because David said they always have clean bathrooms.

Our longest road trip was from El Paso to Atlanta and he made it even longer by taking a longer route so we could see other places of interest along the coastline. Taking longer routes was something he did often to allow us to spend more time together.

The most impromptu trip was from Virginia to Orlando. Bored over a spring break holiday, I said let’s go to Disney and surprisingly he said YES. A few hours later, we were in the car on the way to Disney. My happiness that day matched that of overly excited kids on their way to Disney.

The most nerve-wrecking trip was in the UK as David tried to adjust to driving on the right side of the road. After he returned the rental car, he kissed the ground thankful that we returned safely.

The most unpredictable trip was going to see his parents for the first time. He assured me that I would have fun and there was nothing to anticipate and he was correct. His parents were ever so warm, welcoming, and loving.

The most frequent road trips were the ones David made to see me. For years, he would drive 10-hours each way just so we could spend as much time together. He always said time went flew by because listened to the same set of songs repeatedly.

Driving was something David enjoyed, his car is part of our memory of David. I was with him when he bought the car. It was the car we drove to the hospital to deliver our older daughter as he drove uncharacteristically nervous. It is the car he used drive to drop and pick up our daughters from school. They had their own songs they listened to in that car, those songs now trigger memories of David.

The car now sits in the garage with the battery completely drained. My older daughter has made it clear that she wants us to keep it. She was so upset when I asked if we should sell it and said “I am so angry that you will even ask that question”. She said even if it is not working, we need to keep it as one of Daddy’s memories.

So the car continues to sit in the garage and my younger daughter fondly points to it often and says “that is my Daddy’s car”.

Breaking the silence – the practice year

12 Saturday Jul 2014

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I refer to 2013 as the bonus year and the practice year.

It was the bonus year considering that the disease was very aggressive and advance at the time of the diagnosis and it was the third year of trying to manage it. As of Feb 2013, one of the Doctors unsolicited said at best he only had a few more months to live.

David fought extra hard to make it through 2013. He did everything to stay alive, tried any treatment and even all sorts of diet and lifestyle modification. Most of all, he withstood a LOT of physical pain. He always said he would keep trying no matter what and he did. His determination got him through all of 2013 against all odds.

I also refer to 2013 as the practice year because I had to start doing many of the household and life routine on my own. However, I was fortunate that David was around to guide me or encourage me. I even had to deal with the contractors we hired to do some work around the house and also get the cars serviced. I avoided such activities in the past because I always felt that they would not take me seriously or worse try to sell me things I did not need. I realized it helped to pretend like I knew what I was talking about with the contractors even if I was clueless.

Regardless of how hard David fought to stay alive, he was also a realist and tried to prepare me for the inevitable. He knew I had no interest in discussing this so it made it more difficult for him and he had to approach preparing me with less direct approaches. He would passively mention things to me about important documents, home maintenance information or the bills. Defensively, I would tell him that I do not need to know since that was his job to handle. I finally agreed to learn how he handled the bills in October.

December 2013 was the only time David and I talked about making plans for his death and he showed me a note he wrote with the expectation that he would live until Dec 2013. He wrote the note in March 2012 following the reoccurrence of the cancer because he said he came to the realization that the cancer was too aggressive and would most certainly lead to his death.

He knew premature death was inevitable regardless of how much I refused to accept and he prepared as best as he could. I later found that he organized things to ensure that I could access things I needed. He showed me how things work in the house and gave me the courage to do Mommy and Daddy duties. David was always a planner and I am sure if I had come to terms with the fact that death was looming, he would have planned even more things.

While it was the most painful year ever, I am so grateful that David hung in and helped me practice what I should be doing when he is no longer around. As bad as things are without him, it would have been far worse if I was left completely unprepared following his death.

This is one of several posts that details our experience with bladder cancer. A concise summary of the overall experience can be found in the blog post titled “breaking the silence”.

When grief strikes

09 Wednesday Jul 2014

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IMG_66

It is hard to predict when grief will strike. Seemingly normal or happy occasions can rapidly turn into very sad moments of grief.

I wrote previously about looking forward to watch the July 4th fireworks with the girls. I had assumed that since the day had gone quite well, they would also have a good evening and enjoying the fireworks. Once we found a good vantage point to see the fireworks, the girls were quite excited to see the sky light up.  A few minutes into the show, my younger daughter stormed off saying “Daddy is never going to see the fireworks ever again” and started crying. This had an immediate ripple effect with my older daughter saying “now I am sad too because I miss my Daddy”.

My older daughter was so upset and when into a complete state of sadness.  She cried as she asked why Daddy did not get better. She believed he was going to get better. She said she even wished upon a shooting star that he got better and her wish did not come true. Why did he have to die she asked?

At this point we were all so sad, she asked about stories of Daddy to help make her feel better but I was to sad too even think or share any stories. Thankfully, my Mom came to the rescue and shared a story of about David kindness and compassion. After she was done, my daughter said, “thank you Grandma, I feel better now”.

I realized that the fireworks triggered memories with their Dad which resulted in grief. This affirms how we carry this boulder of grief around in everything we do. We can never anticipate when it will overpower us during seemingly normal or even happy moments. Our grief at that point was so overpowering, I was so weakened by it to the extend that I was unable to share a story about David even though it will have helped make the girls feel better. This was definitely a low moment and I was thankful my Mother was able to help.