Tag Archives: David

So thankful I kept the jacket

27 Sunday Apr 2014

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img_123a My older daughter was the first one out of bed this morning and she went downstairs waiting for me to come and join her.  Soon after, she ran upstairs with the biggest smile on her face, she was wearing David’s Military jacket.

Since David had expressed the desire to be buried in his military outfit, it was the jacket I planned to have him buried in. I had such a hard time letting go of the jacket, it reminded me so much of part of who David was. I cried nonstop the morning the funeral home director said she was coming over to get it since I had ignored all her requests to bring in his outfit. I previously posted here about my struggle to let go of the jacket thinking I was going to let it go.

As I cried my Sister and Mother were there to console me. And I recall my Sister saying that if David knows it means this much to you, he will not expect you to part with the jacket.  That was so true, immediately, I felt relieved and I went to pick another top for him.  For a moment I did not want to part with that one too but I realized that i needed to let go.

The fresh pressed jacket had been in the basement and I took it the family room yesterday as I tried to determine how best to preserve it. Clearly, it was the first thing my daughter saw this morning and she put it on. It was the joy I needed to start my day. I asked her how she felt wearing it and she said “I feel happy wearing it. I want to put it in my room. I want to wear it to school tomorrow because it is my Daddy’s outfit”.

Soon after she ran off and went back downstairs. I went to her room and found the jacket on the floor, a perfect storage location by her standard. I gladly picked it up and put it away safely. I am so happy with the decision to hold on to the jacket.

Your father was an American hero

24 Thursday Apr 2014

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“Your father was an American hero” were the closing remarks to my daughters by the Military Chaplin that officiated the interment service for David, my beloved husband, an amazing father and son.

The word “hero” was something David did not use lightly, he was normally baffled when the media paraded someone as a hero for doing what he considered their job, civic duty, or social responsibility. He will never have considered himself a hero. David loved his country and as an Air Force Veteran, he proudly served his nation at all expense.

In death, he was honored as a true servant to the nation, he now rests with other comrades, many that fell in service to the nation. The military gave him a very befitting funeral – one that he earned as a result of his service to the nation. No doubt it was a day filled with emotions, it was also a day that reinforced my pride in David and certainly one that I hope his children will forever remember and be proud to know how selfless their Dad was.

I had the event photographed and videographed. I have no idea if or when I will ever be brave enough to watch the video but at least it is available if the girls ever want to watch it and perhaps it will help them find comfort and a sense of pride seeing that their Daddy was laid to rest with prestigious honors.

Days following the funeral as my daughter remembered the closing remarks from the Military Chaplin, she said to her younger Sister that since Daddy was an American hero, that makes us American princesses.

Below are some very dear and intimate pictures from David’s burial.

 

David the runner

22 Tuesday Apr 2014

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Now that the weather is getting nicer, I have started seeing a number of people running. I cannot help feeling the pain of David’s loss as I look at them running and appearing so carefree and energized. I am reminder of my dear David, who was an avid runner. He craved running, it was stress relief, it was liberating, and it energized him.

David enjoyed running, swimming, biking, and weight lifting. While it is hard to say which one he liked the most, I believe running gave him the greatest satisfaction. He enjoyed the runner’s high. He had running gear for all seasons, – come rain, come snow, he ran. He always said he had his best run in the rain.

At his peak, he used to average between 10 to 12 miles a day and ran about five days a week. He competed against himself, always trying to break his previous record. He planned on running in the NYC marathon. I asked him once why he was so committed to exercising and he said he was inspired by the birth of our first child to stay in top shape.

Sadly, the microscopic blood noted in David’s urine, a symptom of bladder cancer was simply attributed to the fact that he was an avid runner – a non-serious condition also known as runner’s hematuria. I recall that as the disease progressed, David was upset that despite all his efforts to stay healthy and in top form, he had cancer and the Doctors failed to diagnose it early. However, due to his overall physical and mental wellbeing, I always believed that if anyone could overcome the disease, it was certainly David.

Below is an image of an email David sent me with the details of one of his best run time and a lesson he learned the following day:

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Home is where our hearts belong

20 Sunday Apr 2014

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This was the first time we were away from home as I took the girls on vacation. I am thankful to say they had fun and that brightened my time away.  I looked at them laughing and having a good time, and this made me smile.  It reminded me of the way David would look at me and smile when I was giggly with excitement of a child as he introduced me to new things or took me to new places.

It was rough being away without David, two words “David died” kept pounding my mind. I walked around almost in shock that David died. So many things reminded me of David, our travels and adventures before having kids and our life after kids. I kept thinking what will David do. While watching a show with the girls, I was reminded of how magical the experience was for me when I watched it with David several years ago. As I watched with the girls, tears flowed from my eyes as I felt the void in our life without David, who should have been sitting with us.

Even in the midst of fun, the girls also missed their Dad terribly. Once we got on the plane to depart, my younger daughter immediately started crying that she wanted to go home. She insisted that she wanted her Daddy. I want my Daddy, I want my Daddy was all she said as she cried. Others on the plane may have assumed that I snatched her off her Dad’s arm and was fleeing the country. What became shocking and almost paranormal was that once she sat in her chair, she looked outside the window and immediately stopped crying, her face lit up, happily she smiled and said “I see Daddy, Daddy is right here”. She was pointing outside the window. She remained content for the rest of the flight and insisted that the window stayed open so she could keep looking at her Daddy.

At some point during the vacation, my older daughter said to me “each time I see someone’s Daddy, I feel sad that I do not have my Daddy anymore”. Later that day, she said “Mommy, you know what, throughout the trip, I believed Daddy was at home and that is why I was not sad”. What a great coping mechanism.

When my younger daughter was playing with another girl, the girl asked where her Daddy is. Confidently, my daughter replied that “My Daddy in the sky”. The girl was baffled as she said “he is” and then almost sounding disappointed she said her Dad was on the chair.

Despite the challenges, the girls had a blast. They had fun from the moment they woke up and remained energetic into the late hours of the evening. They even got a surprise visit from their cousins and this added to the nonstop fun.  My Mom and I needed some extra days to recover from the vacation.

At the end we were all ready to go home as my younger daughter said, I want to go home to Daddy. Although David is not home, home is where I find the most comfort, it is a place of solace and where I feel closest to David.

Taking your love for granted

12 Saturday Apr 2014

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Our story is based on David’s love. Love of a man who was passionate about everything he did. A man that I love dearly. A man who showed me love that seemed reserved for fairly tales. Love that I could not fathom at the beginning and I became dependent on. Love that I took for granted.

I took for granted that David will always be around to show me and his children this love. I took for granted that he will make egg pizzas for breakfast while singing and dancing or Korean meals for dinner with details like a personal chef. I took for granted that he will always fix my car, do the groceries, take care of the running of house, pay the bills, pick the girls up from school, fixed everything we broke callously, play passionately with the girls, and continue to teach me “useless information” as he called it.

David, I took for granted that you will always call just to say “I love you”. That you will always open the doors for me, send me flowers for no reason, leave me a love note, sing to me on my voicemail, get me multiple cards for my birthday, or other occasions that did not seem to warrant celebrations. No matter how beautiful the cards were you always included a personal note. I took for granted that I will run out of space to store these cards.

I took for granted that you will always hold my hands, something I used to be so shy about in public…to be young and naïve. How I wish we could take a stroll together now. I took for granted that you will always see beauty in me, even when I could not see it. I took for granted that you will always be my bodyguard as you took calculated decisions on everything you did involving your family.

I took for granted that you will be around to argue with me. No doubt we could both be stubborn but you were the peacemaker. David you could not bear to be angry with me for too long and if I stayed angry, argued relentless, or walked away stubbornly, you apologized even if you did not know what you did wrong. I remember how it used to drive me crazy when we argued and it always seemed like you purposefully lowered your voice below your usual decibel just to make mine seem louder and in turn make me seem unreasonable. I smile at those memories.

I took for granted that you will always love me and you never stopped. Your love was endless. The last words I remember you saying to me were “I love you” and that day you said it nonstop into the wee hours of the night.

Our story is a story of love. It will never be redefined by cancer. This is not a cancer blog, It is a blog about our journey and your legacy. A legacy based on love, the love you shared with me and your children. The love you left in your daughters’ who are as affectionate as you.

I love you so much and will never take your memories or legacy for granted.

Why is your name on a tombstone?

08 Tuesday Apr 2014

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Yesterday was the first time I saw a picture of David’s name on his tombstone. It was in the ground above his final resting place. And yesterday was the first time I really lost it crying, an uncontrollable and violent cry, a screaming and wailing cry.  I cried until it hurt and I still could not stop, even when I finally stopped, the tears were still streaming down my face.

I was MAD. Mad because the world seems so unfair, mad at the disease, mad that we did not get a MIRACLE, mad at the  lack of progress in cancer research in making better progress at preventing or curing cancer, a disease that has devasted so many lives.

The picture with David’s name on a tombstone struck a cord so deep. The grass had not fully covered the area, making it clear that it was dug out, David’s body was laid there and the dirty was placed back over. It made the death of David real, it is real, David is gone, his full name is on a tombstone with an end date.

I was MAD, I am MAD. How can you David be lying below ground buried? How can your name be on a tombstone?  This should not have been our destiny yet. It was cut too short, it is OVER, you are never walking through the doors again. Why was our story cut so short? You had the zeal and energy for life, you wanted to live, you needed to live, I needed you to live. We all did.

This is the hardest I have cried because it is confirmation that even though I want to feel that you are home, you are not, you are gone. The picture of the tombstone confirms it.  As my Sister helped console me, I finally remembered that it was Monday and Mondays always seem to be my worse days and through my tears I was able to joke about the fact.

My evening ended putting the girls in bed, they were so full of energy and so happy to see me. They reminded me of the joy of life and where my happiness resides as they hugged and kissed me until the fell asleep.

 

Failing

03 Thursday Apr 2014

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At times, I feel like I am failing. Failing because I do not have a good handle on the routine of running the household. From being efficient at motherhood to the nuances of the household.

Failing because my children’s routine are almost nonexistence. I struggle to get the girls to sleep at the right time, eat the meal I prepare, and even lack the energy to give them a bath at times. Granted these are some of the struggles parenthood, they just seem compounded without David.

Failing because when I look around the house and see the aftermath of winter. There are things that need to be addressed or fixed that I do not understand. I am sure some are minor but I really have no clue where to start. Is it a minor plumbing issue or do I need a plumber? David would have known, he was so handy and he could fix anything.

David, where are you? You fixed everything. I look at the tools on your workbench and I am even more clueless. I feel like I am failing and I need you to fix that too. Failing is not an option, I know you will never accept that, I have to get through this but how I wish you could fix it.

Missing you more….

It is a raining day

29 Saturday Mar 2014

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I have never liked rainy days. Prolonged rain has a way of making me feel sad. David actually loved the rain. He used to sit outside in the rain and listen to the rain. He found it very relaxing. He wanted an awning over the deck so he could sit comfortably under and enjoy the rain. I remember one stormy day as he sat on the deck listening to the rain, I insisted it was dangerous and made him come inside as he tried to argue that my concerns about lightning were unfounded.

Today, as it continues to rain, I feel depleted of energy and have a strong sense of the loss of my dearest David. I wish he was here so badly. I fell asleep last night looking at pictures, I continued again this morning. I am reminiscing and I want to believe he is still alive because I am having a really hard time dealing with the fact that he is not.

As I looked through pictures I found some pictures I thought I had lost, they made me happy as I remembered the good old days. Sadly, such days are never to be experienced again with David. But I will hold on to these pictures and the memories because I remembered the day vividly and it was a fun family outfitting as we went to watch our first (and last) football game like an all American family rooting all the way for UConn.

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Breaking the silence – the medications

27 Thursday Mar 2014

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Some of the medication David too over the last year

Some of the medication David took over the last year

I recall David used to say that the medications were sometimes worse than the disease. It seemed that for every medicine he had for the disease, he had another prescription to combat the side effect for the medication.

There was a medication that caused drowsiness so he had another one to prevent the drowsiness. Another medication caused diarrhea, so another one was prescribed to combat the diarrhea and that caused constipation then he had to take another medication to relief the constipation. This was a vicious cycle, there never seemed to be a right balance.

I was frequently at the pharmacy picking up medications.  I recall going there one Saturday afternoon, at the technician did not even bother asking for name or date of birth. She knew exactly who I was and rang up the prescription. I thanked her, for her it was a reflection of her efficiency and for me it was saddening because I was now a regular at the local pharmacy, a reflection of David’s state of health.

I read the drug information for many of David’s drug in order to know what to anticipate especially regarding the side effects. For the oncology drugs, my curiosity led me to review effectiveness of these drugs.  What was saddening is that many of the drugs showed very limited survival benefits as little as 2 to 10 months.  For me there was nothing encouraging about this, after all we were looking for a cure, not a few extra months. Since a cure was not to be found, I can now say that if the drugs contributed to any extra days, I am grateful for this. While the end stages were very hard, I valued every single day David was alive.

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”.

 

Breaking the silence – the bed

19 Wednesday Mar 2014

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I initially titled this post as “the death bed” but it was too hard for me look at that glaring title as the headline.  However, it truly reflected how I felt about this particular bed, the morbidity of what was ahead.

After David came home from the hospital in November, I requested a hospital bed because I knew it would be more comfortable for him. Once it arrived, I hated it immediately. I knew it will be the “death bed”. David looked so comfortable on the bed and that was the only consolation. He spent most of the time on the bed. The bed irked me, I often wondered how many others had experience a similar fate on the bed. I hated the bed. I was ungrateful to those that brought it into our home. It was a painful reminder of the brutality of the disease progression.

The day David died, my first request was to remove the bed immediately. I wanted it to be out the house before our daughters came home from school. In fact, I wanted everything related to his illness to be removed. They reminded me too much of how much the disease had taken from us.

To the credit of the visiting nurse staff, they ensured that items and medical supply related to the illness was removed within 2 hours. Our home was restored to what it should have been. It would have looked normal but how can it be, it was not because the light of our home was also gone. David’s body had been moved to a funeral home.

When they came to take David, I played a song that we (mostly me) listened to frequently after he was admitted to hospice and gave him a goodbye kiss. It was indeed goodbye since we never used to say goodbye, David never liked the word because it was too final but sadly that was goodbye and it was the last time I saw him.

I never looked at his body again because for me, I knew it will bring more pain.  I wanted to remember David as he should be, not laying motionless in a coffin, not dead but with his usual energy and enthusiasm. I doubt that I will ever regret the decision not to see his body again. I recall seeing my Dad in his coffin and it caused me more pain and trauma for many years.

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”.