A Chance

I took a chance last night and did a search for an old friend of mine, oh my gosh a friend from twenty years ago, on Linkedin. And funny thing happened in the cyber world she was out there and we talked tonight. We reconnected and remembered all of our great times in Minneapolis when we worked together. It was an hour long phone call of catching up and a walk down memory lane.

We all lose contact with our closest friends over the years. But when you have that phone call, email or letter and it takes you back to your memories with them and what connected you and what keeps you connected it is special. Friends from the past are such a wonderful gift.

The Perfect Weekend

Do you ever have a weekend that everything you do is just the right mix of social events and doing something rewarding?

Well, this was the perfect weekend. Friday night we spent time with friends at a neighborhood porch crawl on a roof top garden that offers the best views in town. Saturday afternoon we volunteered at Pinkberry, a hot new yogurt place in Phillips Place, to raise money for Levine Children's Hospital; which you all know is near and dear to our hearts. And then topped off the day dining alfresco with friends we have not seen in a long time in our courtyard. It was like being in the countryside of Italy and an evening of good food, good wine and good company. We ended the weekend having brunch with my parents, talking to the boys, making plans for parent's weekend and getting ready for the week ahead.

It was the best weekend Mike and I have had in a very long time. We laughed. Yes, we laughed and we didn't feel guilty. This is our giant step toward healing our broken hearts.

The Quiet House

The boys are back at McCallie and our house is very quiet. It always takes us a few days, OK maybe more like weeks, to recover from their absence. We wander aimlessly about our home wondering what to do and the void of not hearing their voices is strange. But then we adjust to them being gone and fall in to a routine of phone calls, text messages and emails. We keep up with the news on the McCallie web site and work the "mommy network". Our first visit will be in two weeks, earlier than normal, but as always we welcome the time to visit with Tony and David.

I am going to relish every day, every visit, every phone call of their last year at McCallie.

Ugh! Another Birthday

Tomorrow I will be 55. Oh good God this allows me the benefits of AARP car insurance, a discount at some movie theaters in Charlotte; maybe even enough savings to sneak an extra movie on the monthly budget; and the harsh reality that the skin on my elbows will never firm up again.

According to my family history I should have another 40 years to live. Again, good God that is daunting to think about so I leave that for another day. I wonder what changes I will witness in those years. I have already experienced the gut wrenching college application process as opposed to when we went. The bottom-line for us was if you had the money we will take you. But I have read watches are obsolete with the incoming freshman, email is to slow so texting is the way to go and before long everything you do will be on your smart phone, including credit card purchases.

My grandmother was born in 1900. In her lifetime she saw the invention of the car, the phone, computers and a man walk on the moon. I was born in 1955 and will witness our lives shrink to quick notes on a phone, the loss of a hand written note and nobody wearing a watch. Well, I am keeping my watch and my stationary. I find it much easier to check the time on my wrist rather than digging out my phone and there is nothing like the feeling of a handwritten note in your hand to comfort the soul.

Grown Up

David was home this weekend for tests on his eyes, which by the way everything is OK, but I could not get over how grown up he was. His steady gait, his strong straight back and the glow in his eyes. When did he grow up to be this confident, sure young man talking at dinner about what he wants to do and how he will accomplish every effort. And then how have Mike and I have adapted the ability to sit back and feel that every one of his dreams will be fulfilled.

I sat across the table from a young man, my son, who could talk about anything from Iraq to the latest new author, and wow; I am so incredibly fortunate. Just had to pinch myself.

Off To College

This fall would have been Joe's junior year at Penn and it is bittersweet to listen to other parents preparations for their sons and daughters to return to college for another year.

I remember Joe's freshman year at Penn. He was so ready to be away from the hospital, the chemo, the scans and the confinement of our home. He told us "just drop my stuff off in my room and we will say goodbye." It wasn't thirty minutes later than we had a call from him wanting to know our whereabouts. Then it was can we have lunch, and could you help run the cable in my room and then I would like a Penn hat. What was, as planned in his mind a short goodbye, turned into a long and lingering afternoon. The last image I had of Joe was sitting on a bench in front of his dorm. His head was bald, he was thin from eight months of chemo, but he was brave and proud that he achieved his goal of attending an Ivy League school.

No, we won't be getting Joe ready for college, not this year or any year forward. But we had the good fortune to deliver him to Penn his freshman year and run the cable line, have lunch with him and buy the Penn hat. Those memories are with me every fall.

Humor and Cancer

Today while ticking off a long list of errands we were listening to NPR's program "HumanKind." Ironically it was about engaging humor while having cancer. Most of the guests were comedians, all of which proclaimed their ability to laugh through the treatments essentially saved their lives.

I remember after the initial shock of Joe's diagnosis we resorted to our usual sarcastic humor. But that fades when you see your child deteriorate daily, when you have to sign a power of health attorney, when you realize the last chemotherapy protocol wiped out all memories of his childhood and then hear the words, falling like bricks on your ears, "there is nothing more we can do". Watching your son, who read such great books as The Count of Monte Cristo, Don Quixote and Nietzshe for fun, be diluted to "The Carrot War" and only enjoying the pictures; finding humor is an incredibly difficult stretch.

Joe never had the feeling of being punished by his cancer, but in his last months he often asked why me, to which we never had the answer. It was the luck of the draw, a crap shoot and a one in a million odds that this ugly bone cancer would finally claim his life.

Do I think our lack of humor at the end did not save him, no I believe our love for Joe helped him die with dignity.