Pen Pals

Dear Mama,

Just to catch you up.....

Courtney's grandpa was diagnosed with some sort of leukemia. This cancer does not threaten his life, but the medications he requires are ridiculously expensive. Since Court played such a vital role in your fight, I tried to help her out as much as I could when they hosted a benefit for him (Mr. Crumpton).

The kids played while I helped in anyway I could. It was a beautiful day. The only thing more beautiful was the view.

As I looked around, I saw beautiful volunteers working their hearts out. People were going out of their way to help a friend in need.

It was truly a moving experience to be a part of. I think the benefit was a hit, and a few bucks were raised to help Mr. Crumpton with his meds. But more than that, I'm sure the benefit raised his awareness that he doesn't fight this horrible disease alone. He's got a lot of people rooting for him and his family.

Of course, all of these good natured folks made me start thinking back to almost a year ago...

The crew of David's Grocery worked diligently on a steak supper benefit in your honor. I can only reflect back on my memories, because for whatever reason, I don't have any pictures. You had your port put in that morning, so I worried that your attending the event was a bad idea. But YOU....You wouldn't have it any other way. I recall standing there in awe of the crowd that patiently awaited their turn to donate money. I remember some sweet souls sweating and slaving away (on their own time)in that kitchen for their fallen coworker.  It was the FIRST moment since your diagnosis that I realized we were not alone. It was the first time that I had seen even a glimmer of light in those our darkest moments. I will never forget. Never.

Of course that thought, led to your other benefit. I DO have a few pictures of that one.

It was SO hot. But everyone seemed like they didn't mind.

There were volunteers scattered everywhere working hard for our family.

I bet Courtney never thought that on this day, she was inspiring souls like mine to "pay it forward" and to help others when the opportunity presented itself.

I only have this picture of you from the side. I was so worried about you that day. It was too hot for you to be out there. I didn't want to rush you away, but I knew that the heat could be very detrimental for you. You stayed as long as you could. Much longer than you needed to.

Brother Robby was there as he has been every time we needed him. He opened with a beautiful prayer.

Between your two benefits, you were able to pay for your initial health care and medicines (before medicaid kicked in). Because these special people worked so hard for our little family, you were able to pay your bills without worry, buy your meds that medicaid would not cover, put gas in your car, pay for your casket, funeral and your plot and just live comfortably until your passing. We only had to worry about YOU, not how we would survive this disease financially. We will forever be indebted to these wonderful folks.

I DO spend alot of time looking back. Reminiscing. It is the only place I can see you....In my mind or on paper--so I visit there often. I stay there too much.

Our Sunday gatherings have continued to bring us together each week.

It took some doing, and I still didn't get that "perfect" picture, but I got your favorite little babies to sit still for a picture. I figured you would like this.

Then, after the kids were done posing, we thought it would be funny to take a picture of your OTHER favorite "little" babies.....

What can I say? Michael fits right in with our crazy bunch...

I don't hang out on this side of the camera too much these days. As I struggle to lose the baby weight, I find my self esteem lower than usual.

Mili loves Aunt Amber just as much as Neva and Nori do...Amber got her to belt out her first big chuckle the other day...

I don't know why...But I took a picture of your car at your house, just before Michael drove it away so we could sell it. It was the last night that your car will ever spend at your house. I found this very sad.

I do enjoy our Sunday gatherings SO much. But they are so bittersweet without the sound of your laughter as Ronnie, Josh and Michael goof off and make inappropriate jokes (most of the time you were right in there with them!) and you getting mad at me and Amber as we scold the kids "for no reason". I miss your urging us to eat more and questioning "was it not any good?" when we didn't clean our plates. I just miss YOU. Saturday, I spoke to Amber on the phone. She was headed to her parents house because Josh was out of town at the time. I thought to myself "she ought to spend the night with them", but before I could verbalize it, an overwhelming sting shot through my chest and did not leave as quickly as it came. It lingered for a while. All of a sudden I realized, that when Michael goes out of town, I can no longer come and stay with you. This is something we have done since long before the girls were thought of. It is something I enjoyed so much and as I realized that I would never experience it again, I kicked myself for not doing it more often. Of course, I have been kicking myself alot lately for some reason. Even though I did ALL I could do when you were sick....I sometimes think back to when you were well. We were always hanging out and spending time together--BUT there are other things that bother me. Why didn't I let Neva and Nori spend the night with you more? Why didn't I believe you when you said "they're no trouble". I worried so much about burdening you, that I rarely took you up on all your offers. Now, they can't come stay with you. Why didn't I MAKE you go on vacation with me and Michael every year? You always refused to take off work and said you didn't have the money...I should have made you! Why didn't I help you clean your house more often than I did? You worked so hard and you were so tired that alot of times your sink would fill up with dishes, or your floors would go unvacuumed. Why didn't I help you out more? I should have taken you to your birthplace in Arkansas a LONG time ago. We didn't plan it until right before Papaw grew ill, and it never took place. What took me so long to plan it? You never got to go. WHY were you in your last months of life when you finally got your dream car? Why didn't me and the boys make it happen sooner? Why didn't we go to the mountains before your body was drained from chemo and radiation? I know what you are saying....You said it every time I doubted myself verbally to you....But without you here to SAY it and my ears to HEAR it, the thoughts keep running through my mind and terrorizing my heart...

Sunday, after we ate and the kids were watching cartoons, Michael was napping, Ronnie was on his computer and Amber was off to her parents house, I decided to plunder (my favorite thing) through some old stuff. I wanted to look through that box of my wedding stuff that you have been urging me to get for a while now. Stuck neatly down in there was a letter to me.

I was surprised to find it, but not surprised by it's existence......About 10 or so years ago, I found this letter (while plundering, once again). I began to read it sitting on your bed....But for whatever reason, after a few short sentences, I folded it and put it back where I found it. I never really found out what it was concerning. I felt guilty for snooping. Over the years, it has popped in my mind here and there, but I never asked you about it. I figured it was so old, you decided to throw it away.

You didn't.

I found it Sunday and I cried as I read every word on the 10 1/2 pages. You wrote it as I was about to turn 16. It found it's way into my wedding box so I know it was kept for a reason. There were things written in this letter that you and I have never discussed aloud. There are FEW things that you and I have never discussed aloud. Thirteen years have passed since you put your pen on that paper. But, when I read it, it spoke to my heart in this very moment. After I read your words, I felt as though I had just spoken to you. I felt like you explained to me things (woman to woman, mother to mother) that perhaps I was not ready to read as a 15 year old child.  I was saddened that it ended in the middle of a thought. There was no end. No closing words. But it was so thorough and heartfelt, that I know how it would have ended. Because I was there. I know all things that happened and were said after that letter was written. I was there for most every moment (good or bad) for the last 29 years--and it was a beautiful life.

I know that I could sit and dissect and find things to regret. There are things there. But I take pride in the fact that I have to search long and hard to find them. I devoted my life to you and the rest of my family, and there is NO regret in that.

Your letter was just what I needed. It was you reassuring me and nurturing me, once again....Just as you always have.

 I know it is no coincidence that this letter found it's way into my hands yesterday.

Thank you for writing me back, Mama.

I love you so much.......

Love,

Nikki 

Normal Changes

Dear Mama,

I have had some of my worst days within the last couple weeks. I find myself lower than usual in this very moment. Something is going on with my brain and my heart. My brain is constantly reminded of you because of the never ending ache in my heart. My heart is never relieved of it's excruciating ache because of my thoughts. It's a ongoing process that I absolutely cannot get control of. I also have this over whelming claustrophobic feeling. Like I am completely stuck. It is hard to explain. I feel like I have absolutely no control over what is happening to me and it sometimes makes me want to scream out in frustration. I want to rip the invisible ropes from around my body that are keeping me from doing what I want to do. Then I remember what it is that I want to do....see you...... I remind myself that screaming, kicking, or completely flipping out cannot bring you back. I realize this. I KNOW this. Yet, the "trapped" feeling persists, and the urge to "break free" follows. My internal battle rages on, perhaps undetected by others. Perhaps not. I do not know. I often wonder if this will go on forever. I wonder if it is normal. I wonder what "normal" is anymore.

I have good days. I have alot of them actually. The other day, I cooked a huge meal and my inlaws came to eat. I noticed that after feeding us AND them, I still had a TON of food left. So, I called Ronnie. I always worry about Ronnie. Bachelor life is probably pretty great.....Until you lose someone you love with all your heart and soul. Then, all the fun stuff that accompanies single life is kind of back burnered....and you are left with your pain. His days are filled with his successful career and his buddies....But his nights....They are spent in a house that is rich with memories of you. So I called and asked him to meet me half way to get a plate of supper. He agreed. I actually tore away with only Mili in tow. I enjoyed my ride to meet him. It was quiet. I thought of you. How many times did you meet me to get a plate of food? I would cook and I so desperately wanted you to eat. So I would offer to bring it to you. "I will meet you half way" you would always say. So, we had a spot. And a couple times a week I would meet you there in hopes of fattening you up. I never knew for sure if you ate or just picked at the food. But you ALWAYS bragged on my cooking. And I loved every second of it. Like a praise junkie. I thought of you and as I whirled in beside his truck, I even fantasized about seeing your face behind the wheel. Lots of times, you were driving his truck when you met me.  I pulled up to his truck and we were window to window. I handed him his plate. I could see that he was down, as any sibling could tell about another. I asked "are you okay?" He hesitated for a moment. "Uh...." he paused..."No". His answer was accompanied by a trembling lip. This, killed me. He's so tough. It's hard to see him hurting. I reached my hand out the window. "What's wrong?" I asked sympathetically. He reached for my opened hand. We held hands the rest of the conversation, much like me and you used to. "I'm just having a bad couple of days", he admitted. Then, his next line, broke me down. "Nik, I don't think I can live in that house". He need not explain, mama. I already knew why. Not because it is creepy or haunted. Not because you died there. It's because you lived there. Every room is so full of you. You are all over that house, mama. I know you don't mean to be, but you just are. You're in the kitchen with your feet crossed and propped on the bar reading a Woman's World magazine while chicken and rice cooks on the stove. You're in the dining room urging everyone to "eat up, there's plenty!" You are in the living room, with that old mattress pulled out....You're rolling around and tickling the kids. You're in the laundry room, piling the clothes on the floor and vowing to "fold them later". You're in that bathroom, putting on your makeup in the mirror with a smile on your face. You're in my old bedroom, bragging about finally having a suitable guest room. You're in his room, griping about the volume of his tv. You're rocking in those chairs out front. You're pushing the swings out back. You're grilling a big feast on the patio. You are up and down the hall. Lastly and more so than any other....You are in that room. The room you never occupied until your body grew sick. Your old bedroom. You always slept on the couch, until your body just couldn't handle it....Then you moved into your bedroom. That room is full of you. You're in there watching The Voice. You are in there smoking. You are in there on the computer reading my blog. You're in there laughing. You're in there laying with us. You're in there hurting. You're in there sleeping and dreaming aloud. You're in there getting worse.............You're in there taking your last breath.  What I have never said aloud, to anyone...Is that sometimes I go to your old house. I leave the kids in the car. I walk in. I go down the hall. I walk in your old room. And I stand there and cry. I walk in your closet and I rub the sleeves of your shirts across my face. I smell the leftover scent of your smoke. And for once, it don't bother me. It brings you to me. I feel you there. I feel you all over that house. It is wonderful and sad. But me? I can get a dose of nostalgia and go home. Ronnie is locked in those memories all the time. I listen and totally agree with him as he describes in tears, his difficulty living in that house. I never let go of his hand. I can feel his guilt as he finally admits aloud that it is just too hard. The house is full of you. Full of you in a good way, but even the "good way" is sad. While memories are beautiful and priceless, dwelling in them sure makes it hard to heal. You knew you would die in that house. You knew it, and you worried about Ronnie living there afterwards. You told us that you didn't want him to be unhappy or uncomfortable. You said you were more than fine with it being sold. Like I said earlier, it's not the dying part. It's the living part. That house is so intertwined with our old life and you, that it is making it difficult for Ronnie to move on. First, I told him that you were EVERYWHERE. Not just that house. For me, you are at Wal Mart pushing the buggy with Nori in it. You are at Ryan's, getting you a chicken leg and bribing Neva with chocolate cake. You are in my passenger seat. You are at every turn on the route to Taylorsville. You are in Davids. You are on my couch. You are in the girls' room playing with their toys. You are EVERY WHERE. I wanted him to know this, before any decision was made. Then, I told him what you would want me to tell him: "I support you 100% in whatever decision you make. I just want you to be happy". And that is the truth. We don't need that house to keep our memories. We don't need that house to keep us a family. We just need each other and the values that you instilled in us. I got out of the car and gave him a big hug and kiss. His tears continued to flow. We talked for a while longer, then he left. I cried the whole way home. About him. About the house. About you. I later called Josh to go check on him for me, since he lives so much closer. Ronnie was fine. Full and fine.

In addition to the house possibly being sold (he's thinking about it),  We are putting your little bug up for sale as well. The money will go toward your headstone. That car was something that you wanted your WHOLE life and you finally got it on your birthday last year. It wasn't new. It was actually almost 9 years old at the time.....But it was new to you. And you loved it so much. I feared us spending that money on something frivolous was a bad decision, but more so, if your time line was indeed true, I feared your never owning your dream car ...We had no idea what the future held. But you wanted it and we wanted you to have it. My only regret is that you didn't get to drive it and enjoy it more than you did...Remember that day on your porch? You told me not to keep that car for the memory. You knew I would have trouble selling it. I promised you we would. Now, as we clean it up and assess it's value to sell, it is yet another thing that is changing.

Changes are happening at such a rapid rate, I feel I cannot keep up. Just over a year ago, I led a "normal" life. Now, I question whether normalcy truly exists or falls into the same category as Santa Claus. Is it just a figment of our imagination that is referenced occasionally to make people think or behave a certain way?

Perhaps, 4o is the new 20, Neon is the new black, and abnormal is the new norm.

Either way, I miss you....Wish you were here to guide us through all of this difficulty as you have done our entire lives. I hope you are proud of us and the decisions we are making. I love you.

Love,

Nikki

3 Months

Dear Mama,

Can you believe it's been THREE months? I've always heard that time flies when you're having fun. But, apparently it flies when you're heartbroken, as well.

I have been dying to dream about you. Like a real dream. Not a goofy one that doesn't make sense. Well, I finally had another one the other night. Its hard to remember vividly, but I know we hugged repeatedly. I couldn't stop squeezing you and kissing you. I just kept telling you I missed you and loved you. You looked unbelievably beautiful. You were healthy. Young. Full of energy. You had the biggest smile on your face. You were in a rush to get back somewhere. I like to think our visit was real and you were headed back to Heaven. I don't know. All I know is you looked happy. I've actually never seen you that happy. It was a great dream.

Since I last updated you, alot has happened. Neva finally had those tests done on her kidneys that they have been wanting to do. The ultrasound was bad enough, but bless her heart she was fully traumatized by the catheter test they did. Turns out, her kidneys are perfectly fine (THANK GOD!).

 Ronnie's spring game has come and gone. I kept thinking back to last year. You, me, Neva and Nori lugging chairs, and diaper bags and food. We had a picnic with Wendy's cheeseburgers and watched Ronnie coach.

Here we are last year.....Laurel vs. Wayne County.....

You would have been proud.....We were all there to support him. It sure was sad to not see you sitting there rooting on the Tornadoes as they get ready for their new season.

Same two teams....Same me. Same Neva. Same Nori. No you. It's crazy the changes a year can bring.

The kids distracted me and kept me from dwelling too much.....

Ronnie's boys did great and I can't wait for the games to start again...

Poor Rylee has had some issues with HORRIBLE migraines. After a couple ER visits, a couple doctor's appointments and tons of tests later, they have found the root of her illness and are giving her preventative medicine. She has certainly been put through the ringer, bless her little heart. In the process of looking at her migraine troubles, they rediscovered a heart murmur that they "plugged" before sending her home yesterday. Her poor mama and grandmas have been run ragged. Knowing that poor baby has been in a tremendous amount of pain and not understanding the tests that were being done on her, I have concluded that there just isn't anything worse than a sick child.

As Mother's Day approached, I was very emotional. It was all I could do to function properly. I confided in Br. Robby that I was dreading the day. He was as comforting as always. He invited me to attend church that day, but said he understood if I didn't. He also reminded me of how lucky I was to have had you, if only for a limited time. There are those with mom's still living, that will never share the bond that you and I shared. Though I know this to be true, and I AM thankful, I still dreaded the day itself. A couple days before the holiday Me, Ronnie and Josh received a beautiful bouquet of flowers. There was a heartfelt note from Amber Brooks reminding us that you would be having your BEST Mother's Day yet. I cried upon reading her words, and felt a little guilty for the pity parties that I throw myself sometimes. We have wonderful people that care about us and support us. This is something incredibly positive that gets lost in the negative sometimes. I was so grateful to her for thinking of us and shining a beautiful light into our dark moment.

Mother's Day came and brought with it a bucket of tears. I tried to hold it together, I really did. But I missed you so. This was a day we always went all out for you to make you feel special. Instead, I found myself wondering if the bouquet I got you was "good enough" to grace your grave. It just seemed not enough. That morning, I received lots of sweet texts. And I was excited when your brother called to check on me. The kids and I went to church. I was able to convince my inlaws to go with us. Now I am glad they did, because Michael worked late and couldn't make it. Though I rarely admit it...I needed help that morning. The two of them sitting next to me kept my emotions in check until the end of the sermon. This is when they aired a special video in honor of moms. On the screen I saw me and you. Not really me and you, but scenarios that I kept relating back to me and you. A mom kissing her baby, another waving to her child from the car window, another smiling and holding her daughter with love. The tears not only came without my permission, but I began to cry aloud. I tried not to. It was completely beyond my control. It was all I could do to avoid full out sobbing. I dropped my head, and respectfully refused to watch the rest of the video. Though I tried to hide it, my tear stained face gave away my secret, and opened a floodgate of hugs, love and support from fellow church goers. You know that they are all such wonderful, compassionate folks. I tried so hard to be strong, but with every squeeze and sympathetic smile, I felt you....and I cried more and I cried harder. I didnt' stop until.....well, I guess I still haven't stopped.
We all got together for supper that night and ate at Ronnie's house. I snuck away for a bit and went to the cemetery. I put your flowers out, and noticed that you had already received some Mother's Day gifts.

 I sat there alone and cried. I didn't talk to you except to say "I don't know what to say", repeatedly through my tears. I laid down and gazed up through the pine tree branches into the sky. My tears were plentiful and ran from my eyes down into the grass. My heart ached, more excruciatingly than it has since you've been gone, as I lay there wishing I could hug you one last time.  Something about gazing up at you, brought me some comfort and gave me the strength to make it through the rest of that oh so dreaded day. Knowing I needed to return to my children, I stood up and told you how much I love and miss you, and I left.

 I speak of my heart ache, because it does exist and it is very prevalent. But don't worry mama, I am very aware of all the great things in my life too. I have three healthy, happy and beautiful daughters. They are a gift from God, and I will never be able to express enough gratitude to God for giving Michael and them to me. I have a beautiful family of inlaws that are always there for me. I have two brothers, a sister inlaw and 2 beautiful nephews that have stood alongside of me through this very traumatic experience, and stand along side me still today. I have friends that know that even if I don't say it, I really did need that impromptu phone call, or that "thinking of you" text, and that tight squeeze of a hug. Lastly, I have 29 years worth of beautiful memories to reflect on. Memories with a woman that loved me with every ounce of her being. Memories with a woman that I was lucky enough to call "mama".

I lost you. This I'm still trying to cope with. I use this blog to communicate with you, and I talk to you often, in my head, in my heart and sometimes even aloud. Yesterday, Neva told me that if I holler up to the sky, you will hear me. While I DO believe this, and I know you always hear me and see me-- you're not here. I wish you were here every second of the day, but you're in Heaven now.  But I still have them. My family, my friends and my memories. They are my blessings and I count them every night,  when my head hits the pillow.....Then I pray that your beautiful face graces my dreams.

I love you.

I miss "us".

Love,

Nikki

Happy Mother's Day

A little poem for you on Mother's Day, like always....

A beautiful little girl with hair of black,

stood outside her new school with her hand-me-down backpack.

A new place, a new life, she was starting over again,

"Will I be accepted?" She wondered, "will I fit in?"

She nervously stepped forward.  She and her mom said their goodbyes,

She stepped in the door, took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

A decade or so later, many friends she had made.

A special boy in particular, though her daddy forbade.

When he asked, she said "YES!", though fifteen was far too young,

But she knew it was meant to be, like a beautiful song unsung.

The wedding was to be quaint, but what would follow was a mysterious surprise,

As she walked down the aisle to her new life, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Three kids later and a passing of seventeen years,

a loss of trust and constant fighting made her meet her worst fears.

More plentiful than the harsh words, were the ones left unspoken.

So he was to move out, and their home would become broken.

She cried on the drive to the courthouse. It was the day they'd cut all ties.

As her pen touched the papers, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

After years of working her heart out and being dead on her feet,

She had sacrificed and forfeited, just to make ends meet.

She gave them her everything, and now her kids were grown.

With hearts like hers, and careers and children of their own.

She was a doting grandmother, that loved to giggle and play.

That's why she ignored her symptoms and prayed they'd go away.

But soon, her "cold" took a turn and went far south.

She cried as the horrifying words came out of her doctor's mouth.

Though the side effects were great, she continued to fight.

Even when her body grew tired, she battled with all her might.

The reading of scan results, she had grown to despise.

She had a choice to make. So she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Her kids rallied and worked hard to meet her ailing needs,

despite their efforts, her condition worsened at a rapid speed.

Then the morning that it was destined for her soul to rise,

her children held her gently and said their goodbyes.

The room was filled with sadness and cries,

as they watched their mama take one last  deep breath, and close her eyes........

A beautiful woman with not the first hair,

stood outside Heaven's Gates with a heart full of prayer.

A new place, a new life, she was born again.

"Will I be accepted?", she wondered "Will I get in?"

Excitedly, she walked forward, and it was no surprise,

The gate swung open. She smiled. Took a deep breath. And closed her eyes.

Last Mother's Day

I love you more than you will ever know. Thank you for you.

Happy Mother's Day to the best mama who ever lived.

Are You There?

Dear Mama,

Alot has happened in the days since my last post. For starters, the one year anniversary of your diagnosis day (April 22). That is the day we found out that the cancer was in both lungs, the liver and on your brain. Remember that day? It was the Friday before Easter. You had just been in for a biopsy and MRI. I understood the biopsy, but I couldn't figure out why in the world they did an MRI. I googled it between the test day and the results day. I was horrified. I hoped that it was precautionary. Almost our entire family showed up that day. Dr. Dobbs even gave us a bigger room. She, then broke the news to us that it was "small cell" and you needed chemo immediately. Remember what you said? You're so stubborn. You said "no. I will enjoy Easter with my family". Sunday came, and though you struggled to breathe, we had our last Easter gathering with you---ever. Then came Monday. Me, you, Punk and Ronnie at Jefferson Medical meeting your Oncologist for the first time.That is when we heard your time line....."One year WITH treatment, just a few months WITHOUT".  My world turned a dark shade of gray on that day. That is the first day you ever took chemo. You were scared. We were scared. You had no insurance and no money, so we took you over to the hospital to receive your meds. I had been vomiting and sick to my stomach for days worried about what exactly was wrong with you, and how we could possibly afford it. After a couple days of meds, a low sodium level landed you in the hospital. I...WAS....TERRIFIED..."Is this how it's going to be?" I wondered. You were pitiful. "They said this type of cancer responds quickly to chemo", I thought to myself. But you were still sick after your entire first cycle. Ronnie, Josh and I took turns hanging out with you while you were in there. Punk came and sat for a while too. All my girls from The Children's Academy came over and checked on you as well. Remember watching the Royal Wedding? So boring. Not our cup of tea. I painted your toenails. I fixed your hair. I rubbed lotion on your legs. I brought you food, though you wouldn't eat it. I wanted you to feel better SO badly. Remember the day you got out? You DID feel better! ALOT better! I filmed you singing "I'm coming HOME!!" and dancing around the hospital room. I sent the video to my worried brothers. We had not seen you like that in several weeks. Then, we went home and had alot of good months. We shoved alot of experiences into those months, too. I can look back over the last year and give you intimate details as if it was yesterday. But the clock keeps ticking. Today became yesterday. Yesterday became last week. Last week became a couple months. A couple months became a year. I miss you with the force of a category 5 hurricane. Actually, that's kind of what it feels like. A hurricane ripped through our lives and changed everything in it's path.

Our last Easter together. You came to see what the Easter Bunny brought the girls.

Also, our last Easter at Papaws house. You were SOOO sick.

You tried so hard, but after a little while, you had Ronnie take you home.

Remember I told you about the Relay For Life? Well, it has come and gone. Mom, it was incredible. You would have LOVED it. Our little tent was busy cooking up a storm, but I was able to watch the Survivor lap. This is when Cancer survivors of all sorts walk around the track. Ronnie, Amber and I stood side to side and cheered aloud for these fighters.  Some were energetic and smiling, others cried and worked their hardest to get around that track. I fantasized about you walking by us. Smiling ear to ear with that big ole smile you passed down to me. But you never came. Instead, an aray of other faces passed by. We greeted them with cheers and warm smiles. We clapped until our hands hurt. Next it was time for us to walk the caregiver lap. Unfortunately, Josh was working out of town. But, Ronnie, Amber and I walked hand in hand around the track. You weighed heavy on our hearts and in our minds. We wore special pins with your picture to represent our reason for being there. I flashed back to all of our trips to the clinic. Me, you and the girls in the car. All of our conversations. My begging you to eat and to stop smoking and to take your medicine the right way. I thought about Ronnie picking you up some watermelon just so you'd eat SOMETHING. I thought about your last days, when he adopted the medicine giving responsibility for his own. I thought of him begging you to take your last dose of medicine, as you gritted your teeth, because you didn't understand why you needed it. I thought of him scooping you up like an infant the morning you fell. I recalled Amber, phoning me in tears because she was concerned about you. I remembered her standing in front of your sink washing your dishes with you griping the whole time. I thought of all of these things, and I cried. I cried on and off the entire night. We made that lap with memories and pain and joy and pride swimming in our minds and hearts.

This poor guy got up at 3am, worked a full day, then worked all night at Relay. He left the fairgrounds at 3 to head back to work. You know how much he loves you.....

We all wore pins with your picture.

I didn't get alot of pictures, because we were SOOO busy...But you saw everyone....

Seeing Amber with her mom made me very emotional. I longed to see you with my girls. I reminded Amber of how lucky she is.

Ronnie said "I wouldn't have missed it..." in regards to the Relay.

Notice that '62? Someone very special was born that year.

You can't tell it, but in addition to your birth year on our shirts, your picture is on our team banner.

They had a full night.....

I also decided to walk the laps in your shoes. You made many-a-lap around David's in these shoes. I wanted to honor you by wearing them.

Around 10pm, though the kids had been with me all night, I decided to take them to my mother in law. Your little girls were getting ill and sleepy. After I dropped them off, I was alone in my car headed back to the fairgrounds. It don't take much to make me cry. But the silence really got me. Then, a calm washed over me. My heart felt a little lighter. I looked over in the passenger seat. "Are you there?" I asked, with my voice still shaking. "Mama, I can feel you. Are you there?" I asked once again. There was no big sign. But I know you were. I rode the rest of the way with my hand open on the console. Numerous times I have held your hand as we drove to dr.'s appointments or for various outings. I didn't feel you holding my hand. But I felt you, all the same.

Close to midnight, they lit little luminaries and sent lanterns into the sky. I stood there watching the beautiful lights fill the night sky. I watched them float up to you. I cried as I pictured you receiving them like a gift from all of us. One by one the team members came over with their tear streaked faces and hugged me. ALL of my inlaws were there. I knew, that at midnight on a Friday, they would have rather been ANYwhere other than the fairgrounds staring up at the sky. But they were there. I realized more than ever in that moment, what you have been telling me for years....I am SO lucky. I cried and cried and cried. I looked around. The grounds were filled with people that have lost loved ones just as I have. They didn't ask for this. But, like me, they can't change it. We can only try and prevent someone else from experiencing loss because of this devastating disease. I feel alone 90% of the time. But in that moment....the night filled with beautiful flashes of hope and love....My family and friends gathered around me, sniffling and smiling....sweet strangers crying and hugging.....I felt far from it.

See the specks of light in the sky?

The luminary ceremony was beautiful...

Several of them were in memory of you...For me, this was ALL about you...

The Relay was an incredibly moving experience that I will continue to be a part of for years to come. We raised a good amount of money for patients like you and research for a cure. I think you would be very proud that all that hard work was done in your honor. Thank you for opening my eyes to this wonderful group of people, mama. 

Another major event that happened since I last wrote is Brady's birthday. Birthdays were always a big deal to you. I wanted so badly to take over that responsibility. Unfortunately, with the hype of the relay, I forgot Brady's birthday. I mean, I remembered it, the day before. I thought to myself "Don't forget to call Brady....." The next time I thought about it was when Amber reminded me. I always had you to call me and remind me about birthdays. You even reminded me about my husband's birthday this year! I guess I have grown dependant on you for that. Once I was reminded, I called him and sang to him. I don't want to lose that special birthday celebration that you instilled in us. You went out of your way to make people feel special on their birthday. I will too. From here on out, I will do better, mama, I promise.

Amber did a great job planning his party. You would have loved it. But, it was our very first celebration without you. I missed you so badly. It was definitely bittersweet.

Remember his party from last year?

I have been dwelling in the past lately, mama. Most of the time, you will find me watching old home videos, or looking at pictures and crying. I still don't feel as though I am healing from the wound of losing you. I fear I never will. Though I hurt so horribly because you are gone...I KNOW that you are still here....I know it. I feel it with every beat of my heart.

I just want you to know that I love you. I am proud of you. I miss you.

Love,

Nikki