Such is Life

 

Che learned that Archie, one of the foster puppies we've helped care for, died.

This is the third death she's dealt with since we began fostering puppies seven months ago.  

Raven, the first, devastated Che. Touching the stiff deceased body, she asked Sarah, "Is Dad going to be like this?" 

The screensaver on Che's phone is a picture of Raven, Che still talks about her now.

The second was Terra who was euthanized after giving birth to eight puppies, before succumbing to heart worms. Che was there as it was happening and FaceTimed me, sobbing and only saying, "Daddy," repeatedly before she has to hang up. 

Afterwards, Che's thrown herself into caring for Terra's puppies. 

Che was playing with a friend when Sarah told her about Archie, one of Terra's liter. The room grows silent and still and quiet tears run down Che's cheeks. 

That's all. 

Quiet tears. 

Her friend immediately hugs Che and, after a few minutes, they're able to resume playing and be kids having a good time. 

Such is life. 

"For life and death are one," says Kalil Gibran, "even as the river and sea are one."

Che's learning that. 

____________________________

Having the celebration of my life now! You can be a part too at

https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

My Celebration of Life: Monthly Report 1

 

Most days, but certainly not all, I can do most anything for a couple of hours, if I get high enough. 

My celebrations of life are calculated and planned, but retain a spontaneous element because I have a history of last minute cancelations when I'm just not up to it that day. 

All the stars align and Sarah takes us to lunch at Longhorns, an old favorite of ours, because recently I'd mentioned I'd like to go back one more time. 

"Do they have fries?" Che asks, on the way. 

"Really good ones," we assure her. 

I can't remember the last time I've eaten a steak and I'm excited. Sarah gets French Onion Soup and a salad. 

"Is this the last time I'll ever have a food orgasim in my mouth?" I blurt out, biting down on Flo's Filet and a baked potato smothered in whipped butter. 

After our feast, Sarah drives us to the Mall and takes Che clothes shopping. She's in that crazy age between little girl and growing-up-too-damn-fast and has outgrown a lot of her clothes. 

They delight in choosing the latest fashions, making two trips to the Dressing Rooms. I'm asked my opinion of several selections as Che tries on everything. 

She is beyond excited!

Sarah somehow negotiates a 20% discount on everything so we're laughing as leave. 

To celebrate, Che and I ride purple animals around, darting around people, laughing and having much fun together. Sarah sits, laughing and taking photos while guarding Che's new wardrobe in the bags lying at her feet. 

Che gets on a high-jump trampoline that catapults her skyward,  towards glass ceilings above. Sarah and I take pictures, applauding and yelling words of encouragement. 

Then it's on to "Build a Bear" where she selects a Bunny to create, opting to record Sarah and me wishing her a good night as the voices of the newly named "Cinnamon."

"I love you Clare!" Sarah passionately says. 

"Daddy loves you Che-Bay," I softly add. 

On the way home, she listens to Cinnamon tell her again and again. 

"Dad, I wish you would have talked louder."

"Yeah," I wistfully sigh, "I wish I could."

Once home, Che tries on her new clothes and announces what she's wearing at Dress Down Day at school on Friday. 

A short while later, we're huddled on the sofa together, watching "American Idol" which we haven't seen in a decade, but we're in rapture together doing so. 

And that's a day in my celebration of life now, rather than later. 

I'm very humbled and grateful it's kicked off like it has, and hope for many great reports like this one in the future.

Right up till the end. 

____________________________

Having the celebration of my life now! Be part at https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

Real Life Lessons for Later

 

Fostering puppies has brought so much love, energy and purpose that it's definitely enhanced our quality of life. 

Helping daughter Laurel's Dog Rescue efforts, I met Terra, found pregnant, abandoned, tied to a post with a chain around her neck and plucked from the euthanasia list at the last second. Eight weeks later she gives birth to 8 puppies, 7 who survive. 

Sensing things, Terra sits beside me on the sofa, bonding it seems, over unseen things. 

Sarah and Che return to help feed the puppies and I'm not up to joining them. 

During their visit they learn Terra has heart worms, is already in heart arrest and will continuing suffering. 

Sarah and Che take Terra to the Clinic so she won't be alone at the end and is surrounded by love.  

"Real life lessons in real time, that will come in handy later", Sarah and I text each other. 

Hours later, my phone buzzes. Che's FaceTiming. 

"Daddy," she sobs, "Daddy." 

Unable to contain my own emotions anymore, I also burst into tears.

"It's okay Che-bay," I sob back. "It's okay."

"Daddy," she wipes tears. 

"It's okay," I cry. 

They finally arrive home. 

Today, we're back fostering Terra's puppies, anxious to carry her life forward, celebrating as we go, as best we can. 

____________________________

Having the celebration of my life now! 

Be part it https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

Thank you!

Our Anniversary

 

As we celebrate 13 years of marriage, it's fun to remember the beginning of us. Sarah wrote this. Not me. This is how we began.   

_____________________ 

Twenty-six years ago you hired me to protect you. 

I entered the bank looking lobby and found a seat, waiting to meet The Reverend. I tried googling him, but this was before information was everywhere. I knew though that he was a large southern African American minister that was vibrant and a visionary. I was very excited to meet him.

As I waited a skinny, deeply tanned, pony tailed man dressed in granimals...(defined as khaki pants and a white or blue shirt)...walked by and said hello. I smiled and said hello back as he darted past. He looked professional, but a little disheveled. I thought he was a maintenance worker or maybe drove the van to drop off people.

Five minutes later I entered the office of the minister only to see this skinny white man standing by a computer. It all made sense now, he was the tech guy.

Turning around a white Styrofoam cup was next to his lips and I hid my grimacing as he spat his chewing tobacco into the cup. 

Who does that, I thought.

"Nice to meet you Sarah," said the minister as I caught his blue eyes checking me out in my purple pants suit. Oh boy, he was that type of tech guy. Great!

Saving the awkward moment another lady came in. "Oh, I see you have already meet Micheal Elliott?" she said.

"Um...well...yes!" I said. 

I grabbed the chair and used the moment to sit down and focus.

This was The Reverend Micheal Elliott. Oh boy.

He sat down, propped his sockless feet up on the table and spat in the Styrofoam cup again. Thank God he had on shoes!

"So, Sarah..." he said in his southern drawl...

"How much do you weigh?"  That's an illegal question to ask.

"I see you did an internship with the Buffalo Bills. Do you like football?" It's ok, a little too slow moving for my taste.

"What are your favorite colors?" Black and red.

"Really, and you don't like football?" Not really.

"Is your hair naturally blond?" Another illegal question, but no.

"Why do you what this job?" I need to make money. But, really I want to help others. 

"Do you drink?" That is illegal to ask that question.

"Where do you see yourself in five years?" You know I'm a gypsy and could probably predict this. 

"How would you describe yourself?" What you see is not all you get. Honest, aggressive, always get the job done right. I am northern girl. 

"What do you like to do in your spare time?" Read, travel, pole dance, cook and run.

"Where is your favorite place to be?" At the beach. I have always wanted to live near the beach. 

"Cats or dogs?" Yes

"What is the last book you read?" The Bible

"Do you know who Frederick Buechner is?" Of course, just read Wishful Thinking

"What kind of music do you like?" Anything but rap, depends on my mood.

"You like country music?" I just said I like anything but rap. That is not rap, is it?

"Why should I hire you?" You can't live without me. Why should I work for you?

He swung his feet off the table, spat into his cup, and leaned closer to me. "Because Sarah, one day you and I will be unemployed because we have worked ourselves out of this job," he said as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. "We will have ended homelessness in Savannah and replicated this program across the United States. And we will celebrate big!"

This southern boy lost his drawl as he fired random questions at me. And I fired answers right back. 

It didn't really matter what the questions were, but he needed someone that could keep up with him.

The next day he hired me to be his administrative assistant. 

My second day of work he took me out to lunch and informed me that he fired everyone else before me. "Don't spell his name wrong," his wife at the time chimed in. "It's two l's and to t's." Don't..." And she went on and on and on. I tuned her out.

Later that day I saw him approaching my office wearing way too short red running shorts and a bandanna. "Employee fitness time," he beamed. "Either you run with me or you pay me $10." I laughed and said, "Can't show my boss up during my first month here."

He laughed and then sat on my desk. His itty bitty shorts were bothersome and I saw parts of my boss I never wanted to see. But at least he wasn't chewing tobacco and spitting.

"Sarah, what I need is someone to protect me. Protect my time. Everyone wants to meet with me, everyone needs me for something, everyone swears they are my best friend. You are the keeper of all that now. In one sense we are a lot like a husband and a wife. You tell me where to be and when and make sure I am there prepared."

I nodded. Please take your stuff off my desk I thought. 

He bounced up off the desk and I shook my head in surprise and distaste and said, "Oh God!"

He chuckled and bounced away.

Everyone in Savannah tried to drop the old family names to me to get to see him, but they were all the same to me. I watched his time. Learned what his mood was for the day by what music he played in the morning. Listened to what he didn't say. Made distractions when he needed to get away from people. Scheduled empty time to protect his sanity. Said no often to others when they needed him. Told him the truth always. And never spelled his name wrong.

I know I surprised him in many ways. 

He knew when he messed up. Often his apologies came with him dumping bags of chocolate on my desk before saying "sorry." 

We made a great team for a year. 

When I knew I was moving back to New York, I knew telling him would be the hardest thing. I rehearsed the most beautiful speech, full of admiration and thankfulness, but when it came time to tell him I couldn't find the words and just read my resignation letter to him. 

"Damn you!" was all he said to me for the next 48 hours.

My last day they gave me a "Damn you!" party. We took one last stroll down the hallway..."Sarah, if you ever want to come back, the door is always open. Always!" he said as tears ran down his face. I nodded my head. There were no words. 

It was a long time before I took him up on his offer. 

But coming back was different and things in our lives both fell apart. And one day we both found ourselves sitting alone in the midst of hurt and alone. And we began deepening our friendship and discovering mutual respect and passions, and found a new door opened for us. 

And we didn't wait to pass through it. 

And our journey has been the thrill of a world I never believed existed.

_______________

I'm dying as happily as I can, but I think I can to better. 

See how by clicking the link this link 

https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

Thank you!

Doctor's Orders

 

"It's amazing how y'all handle adversity," our Cancer Specialist Oncologist begins the Zoom appointment.

Sarah and I don't expect this but we find ourselves pridefully smiling and nodding.

"You've crafted what works for your life and I support this decision," he beams.

Sarah and I feel affirmed.

"How is Che?" Dr. Starr asks, and we tell him when our foster puppy Raven died, she dealt with it firsthand, and asked at one point, "Is Dad going to be this stiff when he's dead?"

"Wait!" he says, stifling his laughter, "you foster puppies?"

Sarah explains it's a great distraction to cancer and keeps us focused on "Life".

"Remarkable," he mumbles, jotting notes.

"Where's the next trip?" he asks, resumes the examination.

"We're booked on a cruise to tiny Caribbean islands," we gleefully answer.

"Well," he summarizes, "this is working so well, why don't we talk again in several weeks?"

I nod that we're continuing no treatment at this time.

"Unless you need me," he quickly adds. "If you need me, call anytime."

Hanging up, we look at each other.

"It's funny," Sarah thoughtfully says, "that we really didn't talk about the cancer's progression at all."

Shrugging my shoulders, I say nothing.

The room is quiet for several moments as we're each lost in our thoughts and emotions.

"We should celebrate," Sarah finally smiles.

In no time, we're in a favorite local haunt, enjoying the Hell out of ourselves, laughing, making plans for the future.

That's what our cancer specialist oncologist prescribes anyway, so this celebration goes on for a bit longer. 

_______________

I'm dying as happily as I can, but I think I can to better. 

See how by clicking the link this link 

https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

Thank you!

Future Plans

 

Sarah, Che and I are leaving Walmart but are blocked in because, in the handicapped parking space next to ours, a wife struggles to help her husband into their car. 

It is agonizingly slow and painful to watch. 

The wife clumsily drops her man into the passager seat, pricks his legs up, places them on the floorboard, then shuts the door. She looks tired and sad. 

"Well, that'll be us in 4 or 5 years," Sarah says, squeezing my knee. 

"FOUR OR FIVE YEARS?" I laugh. 

"Well, if you are," she shrugs, "we'll be like that. 

"Yeah," I laugh, and Sarah laughs with me.

We do keep an optimistic attitude and, in spite of multiple cancers, remain future focused.  

You have to be if you want to stay alive!

Dying in America is ridiculously expensive, inconvenient, invasive, complicated and completely out of your control. 

Sarah and I don't like to find ourselves in a reactionary position, as we like to have a plan and the only way you can develop one, is to talk. 

So we talk openly about it. 

"Da," Che asks, "do you think you'll still be here for my tenth birthday party?"

I shrug, squeeze her shoulder, smile and answer, "Probably not."

"Okay," she says, skipping back to her room. 

And we talk about the future. 

A lot!

Some of it's my future too.  

All of it's short term planning, mostly end of life preparation. The details are nebulous right now, but we're doing the best we can, and they'll work themselves out as we get closer. We don't dwell on it, though we do talk about it. 

We spend far more time planning Sarah and Che's future! 

Honestly, it's a lot more fun and exotic than that which involves me and I relish in these conversations and dreams. 

"God's greatest gift is the chance to start over," Eile Wiesel said, and there's marvelous excitement and joy in knowing, and planning, for it. 

Maybe, I might get to get a glimpse of what that future's going to be like, and it thrills me to think about the life they're going to have. 

Without me. 

It comforts me greatly to know they'll be fulfilling plans and living their dreams. 

So, I find myself thinking about Moses a lot. 

"There the Lord showed him the whole land ... I have let you see it with your eyes, but you will not cross over into it."

He led the people to the Promised Land, even got to see it, but never got to enter. 

And Moses dies after seeing the Promised Land. 

I'm okay with that. 

I want to glimpse, perhaps even touch, their futures before I die.

_______________

I'm dying as happily as I can, but I think I can to better. 

See how by clicking the link this link 

https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

Thank you!

My Last Dance

 

Da, is that what you're wearing to the dance tonight?"

"Yeah."

{silence}

"Mom, can you please dress Dad?"

I have on clean blue jeans, a grey sweatshirt and two pairs of socks. Everything matches and I feel pretty good in them.  

Laughing, Sarah's already on it, finding me something more appropriate for the one hour dance at the school.

While they search, I stumble outside to get as high as I possibly can before we leave. 

I change into the chosen t-shirt to complete my wardrobe: Jack Frost from "A Nightmare Before Christmas.” Che just loves that movie.

She is dressed as a princess, sporting a dress she once wore in a wedding, with her long hair in a ball on top of her brightly bowed head. 

She is beautiful. 

Sarah drives us the 1/2 block to the school, conserving my energy, and drops us off. 

Che is a dancing machine at home, sings loudly and makes videos for us to enjoy.  She's forever grabbing me to dance and I whirl and spin her around the Living Room, like someone pretending they know how to shag. 

Which is precisely what Che wants to do now, she grabs my hand, and yells to her friends, "Watch this!"

I spin her around the dance floor, wildly flinging her as far away as her arm can reach, and then quickly pull her back close to me. We do this repeatedly. 

Only a few other parents are dancing with their children and none are moving with our passion and wild abandonment. 

This goes on for two-and-a-half songs before Brielle, Che’s friend, starts a conga line, which Che, and most every other kid present, joins. 

I stumble to a chair and collapse.

The conga line, a marvelous hodgepodge of diversity, comes by in a slithering line and multiple kids smile and high-five me as they dance by. 

A little boy I do not recognize stops and tells me that his “Grandpa had cancer too, but beat it and is still alive.”

I am sitting in stunned silence when "The Electric Slide" plays, the conga line explodes and Che grabs my hand and pulls me up for the final dance. 

 

She spins the wrong way each time the song calls for a jump, which sends us all into convulsions of dance floor laughter. 

Grabbing my hand before the song finishes, Che pulls me down the hallway, speaking and waving to friends and teachers, and outside where Sarah's waiting to drive us home.

Che jumps on her phone to talk about everything that had just happened to the same friends we'd left a few minutes earlier. 

A little while later, Che's settled for the night and I'm rubbing Sarah's feet as we talk and watch TV. 

I immediately fall asleep, hands still on her feet. 

"Go to bed," she lovingly prompts.

A few hours later, I'm back on the sofa, when Che sleepily meanders out and lays beside me. 

"We were the best dancers," she says before falling back asleep, now with her head in my lap. 

Salt water fills my eyes and I am humbly grateful that I got to do this, when the odds really are against it. 

I should just be thankful that I got to dance with Che like that one more time, when I shouldn't still be here at all, and I thank God for what could very well be my last dance.  

Here's the thing though. 

I'm determined as Hell to do again next year. 

_______________

I'm dying as happily as I can, but I think I can to better. 

See how by clicking the link this link 

https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

Thank you!

Behind Sarah's Smile

 

It's been a jam packed, exhausting day and she's so excited to finish work, get home and collapse from exhaustion. 

I mean that's not what will actually happen. 

When she gets home we're so excited she's home that we demand everything at the same time as soon as she walks in the door. 

We need her so. 

But there's dinner to prepare (hopefully something I'll eat) and Che has to finish her homework, the laundry's not done, and she still has to meet a work deadline before midnight. 

At the moment though, Sarah can't wait to get there. 

Just to be home. 

And with us. 

Where the love is. 

"He has only been here for a few weeks," the Group Home staff person says to Sarah as she finishes her last work visit. 

“Does he have any family?” Sarah asks. 

The staff person leans in as if telling a secret and replies, “Yes, but his brother has cancer and couldn’t take care of him, so he had to move here.”

I don't know how she does it. 

But she does.  

"He's got cancer" the worker said and Sarah's heart cracks at the words, but she maintains her professionalism, and she finishes the job. 

Then she rushes home to cancer. 

I don't know how she does it. 

She really is a Wonder of a Woman. 

But she's not immune. 

"Trauma survivors often get in the habit of spending a lot of time alone, because alone is safe, relatively, anyway. Alone is controllable. We understand alone. We don't have to stress about alone."

Every woman wonders sometime, especially those surviving cancer in real time.  

Sarah stands there, hiding these things behind her smile. 

Cancer is trauma she's lived with a long time now. 

At home, she dives back into the blessed routines of the three of us, and somehow, though I don't know how, we find great joy together. 

"I'm a caregiver until he dies," I've heard her say, and I'm always taken aback at the reminder because it's coming sooner rather later.  

And there's no real rest in caregiving. 

It's 24/7 tangible expressions of love without ceasing until, suddenly one day it's over, I'm gone and Sarah has a whole other life to put together for her and Che. 

Her caregiver days come to an abrupt halt, she's suddenly a window with a young daughter, living alone, starting over, late in life. 

It's very much part of her thinking, because you have to have a plan, and Sarah is definitely a planner. 

Cancer is infused in every aspect of our lives, but when I go, I'm taking it with me, and then Sarah and Che will be free of its daily raping of our time, energy, money and opportunities. 

All of these things simultaneously rush through Sarah's mind, hearing the staff confide that his "brother has cancer and couldn’t take care of him ..."

She goes on, discussing the client's sad situation, and Sarah stands there smiling. 

But that's everything going on behind Sarah's smile.

_______________

I'm dying as happily as I can, but I think I can to better. 

See how by clicking the link 

https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

Thank you!