Be In The Moment

Silently I kept repeating "be in the moment" yet my mind belligerently strayed back to 2007 and Joe.

While standing by the Compass on Locust Walk at UPenn with old friends from McCallie and new ones he had met in college, I forced myself to focus on the conversation. But memories of my visit with Joe would take over. I would carefully lower my eyes to hold the tears in check, take a breath and summon my faithful cover of quick comments followed by a boisterous laugh.

But these were stubborn memories. Three years ago I stood by the Compass while Joe eyed the very fraternity he would eventually decide to pledge, the hotel where we stayed was looming in the background and the choice for dinner was where we had lunch. The painful irony of it all.

Repeating "be in the moment, you are here with Tony and David, that visit is in the past" was futile. And it didn't help to randomly encounter other McCallie men while walking on campus. My strength was being tested to the limits, I was unraveling and fearing a total melt down. Not something I wanted to do in the middle of Locust Walk surrounded by his friends. I could hear random comments, snippets of laughter as I toiled to take command of my runaway feelings.

My last ditch effort was to lock my gaze on Tony and David before scanning the faces of his friends. Remembering is good, but not to the point of ignoring this incredible moment of Joe's friends offering us their love and support just by being present. Memories and "being in the moment", however delicate the balance, each deserve their own time.

The Road To College

We have arrived in Annapolis, Maryland after a full day on the train marking the beginning of Tony and David's college visits. This trip reminds me that time continues to march on, even though there are times we are stuck in the past.

I am not going down memory lane, wondering where the time has gone, but rather I am amazed how remarkably grown up they are and the amount of thought they have dedicated to their choices. Of course, outside of two colleges their lists are totally different making this a logistical challenge, so they will patiently sit through each other's visits. So it goes with twins.

Yes time marches on and I am grateful to be here catching a glimpse of their future.

My Boys Are Home

Spring Break is here. Our home is filled with Tony and David's chatter, the table is overflowing with food and they are continuously sleeping. It is their time to relax, but only for a few days since we hit the road for college visits!

I am going to relish this time with Tony and David and the beginning of new memories.

The Price Paid

I read an article in a free local publication basically asking what a life costs. Of course it was tied closely to dollar amounts incurred by cancer patients and it got me thinking. I can tell you to the penny what Joe's treatments and surgeries cost; even how much we are still paying for them each month.

But I never think about that when my mind wanders back over the past four years. Joe's visible price paid was losing his hair, scars from his leg resection, removing two thirds of his right lung and chemo port surgeries. Out of plain sight was the loss of memory during his second protocol. He had no recollection of anything that happened before January 2008. As a family we would repeat stories of him growing up. Soon the "inner circle" of his friends picked up on it and adopted the same practice.

My memories never include the monetary cost, instead I am reminded of the incredible price Joe paid for a slim chance of survival.

For The Love Of It

Watching David row has earned a spot on my top ten favorite list. There is something about the easy rhythm of his stroke and the relaxed demeanor when taking the bow position he has held for three years. With his tanned face and windswept hair, he looks at home on the river, in the sliver of a boat pulling his oar under the relentless direction of the coxswain. Since it is his responsibility to keep the boat steady, a job David takes seriously, every pull is done to near technical perfection.

David left behind gymnastics, diving and swimming, which ironically we have boxes filled with ribbons and medals he earned, to row. Only once was he in a top boat, and that was a fluke, he is usually shuffled from one boat to another; and there are no glorious accolades or MVP plaques at the crew banquet for David.

Yet every fall and spring David goes back to row simply for the love of it.

Home

Before exiting the gates of McCallie I always take one last look over my shoulder, a habit similar to the nightly check on your children when they are young before heading off to bed. I can't seem to make the turn on to the road until my ritual is complete, it is this mom's quiet goodbye after the fanfares of hugs outside the dorm.

After a perfect weekend of watching David row, wonderful meals, college dominated conversations and a long talk in the parking lot it was time to make my way to Charlotte. I glanced over my shoulder one more time before heading home, sending my love to Tony and David and a quiet goodbye.

If it is March...

I adore March Madness with bittersweet fondness.

Joe and I started following the playoffs in the hospital, always cheering for the underdog hoping for the ultimate Cinderella story. In the beginning it was our form of hope, but then it became an outlet to pass the tedious hours between treatments. Either way it evolved into a tradition.

I remember the first year our hearts were set on Gongzaga simply because Joe liked the name. Obviously we are not college basketball savvy since we never watch a game until March, knew nothing about the teams and usually picked our favorites based on anything but stats. Over the past fours years we would casually select a team, be loyal fans watching every game and console each other when our hopes were dashed. I always looked forward to March and sharing this with Joe.

I had decided early on to cheer for University of Northern Iowa, a little know school amongst the powerhouse basketball teams. Iowa is our college alma mater state, and coupled with good friends who know the coach, I thought these were solid reasons for the selection. UNI made the cut becoming the basketball David and Goliath story. Last night this scrappy team armed with cool, level headed playing; not to mention a guy named Ali who can sink a three pointer in his sleep; knocked off the giant, number one Kansas. Sweet victory!

Joe would have loved the start of this March Madness, and just maybe University of Northern Iowa will be the Cinderella story.

Warmer Weather

Spring is here which means the start of the crew season and my favorite spectator sport. This is literally a breath of fresh air after years of sitting in stuffy, hot, over chlorinated natatoriums. Don't get me wrong I loved watching Joe swim and see Tony dive, but crew means sunshine and "tailgating" thanks to the devoted parent volunteers. Of course if it is raining that is a whole different story.

David's first regatta of the spring season is Saturday morning. The weather is predicted to be beautiful, I can't wait to watch him row and then catch up with my boys at a cool eatery in Chattanooga.

You guessed it, another road trip!

Cancer And Teenagers

The New York Times published an interesting article about cancer and teenagers this past week. Reading the article brought forth painful memories, some so vividly harsh my face would become twisted with anger or my eyes filled with tears.

This is a tough combination. Just when Joe was feeling his independence his cancer made him totally dependent. For almost a year he could not drive, he was house bound, bald, bloated, nauseous and in constant pain. His pulled his baseball cap as low as possible on his face in hopes to shield the lingering stares of strangers. When he returned to school he was still bald and walking with a cane, not an easy situation to deal with at an age when your appearance is so important.

Anger seeped into every part of his life, and with his first recurrence it took hold of him knowing again he had to endure more pain and isolation. I understood why he negotiated rounds of chemotherapy, waited as long as possible to do the next surgery and asked for adjustments in his protocol to attend an important event. He participated in a clinical study but at the first opportunity withdrew. The treatments were just to taxing on his body.

Joe faced more decisions far beyond his treatments. His thoughts were about how do I spend my time, who do I spend my time with and what really matters to me. In the end he faced his mortality, which made the fertility quandary look like a walk in the park.

Like every teenager with cancer Joe made these decisions at warp speed. Unfortunately is it part of the deal, time is not a luxury during adolescent growth spurts. Entire families become passengers on a high speed runaway train. For some it slows to a manageable speed called remission. In Joe's case it crashed leaving our family to pick up the pieces.

Not One Thing Green

I have not one thing green in my closet! Every year I come up to St. Patrick's Day hoping to be prepared and again I disappoint myself. But, seriously, what could you expect from a Italian, English, Scottish girl? I am just down right confused.

Next year I will find my Irish and something green!

Happy St. Patricks Day!

The Big Yawn

This day is full of tedious tasks that I can no longer avoid. Trying to draw any inspiration from going to the dry cleaners, replacing heels on shoes; or better yet filling out the Census Report; only leaves me coming up empty. Faced with an utterly mundane day with no sunshine can certainly get a girl down.

Obviously some days are just not as profound as others. Lacing up my Nike's preparing to do my usual "things to do list loop" in uptown Charlotte I think this is not so bad. I will knock out a walk, which I enjoy, and my incredibly dull errands.

Tiny Steps Turn in to Large Leap

So much for the tiny steps. Today I took a large leap back to Levine Children's Hospital where Joe was a patient for most of the past four years. Mike and I have the honor of sitting on the Family Advisory Council for LCH and are parent representatives for the Pain Free Committee. I have not been to LCH since September 2009 and, well to be honest, it started out far from pleasant.

As I entered the parking garage my old familiar gut wrenching, heart racing feelings returned. The ones I felt every time we checked Joe in for surgery or a chemotherapy treatment. The smell of the "foam in/foam out" invaded my nostrils to the brink of nauseousness causing me to dig frantically in my fashionable oversized bag for a peppermint. I searched for the most indiscreet seat, fiddled with my note pad and tried to calm my shaking hands as my palms became slick with sweat. Take a deep breath my mind demanded, but my body did not respond.

Then, as a new member, I was politely introduced and asked to tell my story. Voice cracking, most times halting, I recounted the past four years. Slowly gaining strength, I spoke of our support of LCH through Joe's Bone Cancer Walk, recounting how the care Joe received gave us comfort, and the importance of making every child's experience be as close to pain free as possible.

The tremors in my hands subsided, my heart slowed and the churning in my stomach lessened. This is important to every child that enters LCH and, as a member of this committee, I have the opportunity to work towards that goal.

Moving On In Slow Motion

Many times these past months I have felt life is moving in slow motion. I am not as quick. I struggle in conversations searching for words and even my gait feels as though I am trudging through quick sand. This is the physical and visible part of grief. The more shrouded emotions are deep inside only to be jolted free by a place or a familiar word and always a memory. The pain is excruciating and I struggled to keep it from flying out of control.

It has been less than three months since our son Joe passed away yet it seems like a year. We are moving on, but in slow motion and one tiny step at a time.