Welcome, 2014

I confess that I was happy to see the end of 2013. It was not the best year of my life, but it was certainly full of opportunities to learn and grow.

We celebrated Christmas with our family/extended family/friends at our house - about 30 of us - sharing appetizers and dessert. The over-17 crowd played "Cards Against Humanity" after all of the young ones had gone home, and we gathered around a bonfire on the beach when it was dark and very late.

Welcoming friends and family into our home is one of my favorite things to do, and this year, we had the pleasure of having Andrea and Mike spend the night here. Next morning, we made pancakes for breakfast and invited friends to join us. It was a great way to keep the Christmas spirit going.

It's especially fun when David brings his friends from college home to join us. We hosted dinner on New Year's Eve before the young men took off to meet friends in Seattle. After New Year's, we packed the car and headed up to Whistler, B.C. with my brother, sister-in-law and nephew for four days of cold-weather fun. I'm not a skier, but I have grown to love visiting Whistler.

View of Blackcomb mountain from the condo

We rent a condominium which has three or four bedrooms, depending upon the size of our crowd, and the skiers have a blast. I hike or walk through the lowlands and soak up the quiet. We go out for dinner, play games (more "Cards Against Humanity"), talk, watch movies and just enjoy being together. It's a special treat to spend time with our nephew, Phil, who lives in California.

View between Blackcomb & Whistler mountains

My job is to drive everyone to and from the mountain each day. Sometimes this involves four trips, but I don't mind at all; I get to drive my SIL's snazzy car (even though I'm not a car aficionado, and only drive at about 25 MPH in the village - it's still fun).

David asked me to ride the gondola up and meet them for lunch on the mountain on their last skiing day; the lift tickets are pricey, but I was delighted that he asked, so I went to the base of Whistler mountain and rode the gondola to mid-mountain, where the huge day-lodge offers all kinds of lunch options. It was gorgeous, and I loved the holiday atmosphere. There were people of every age, from tiny toddlers to folks past retirement age, and from everywhere you can imagine - Whistler attracts an international crowd.

Everyone is in such a good mood at a ski resort - everyone except Gregg, who was mad at me for insisting (after years of respectful, polite asking) that he finally buy and wear a ski helmet. But we got over that little hurdle, and all is well.

View from the lodge, mid-mountain

There is a gondola which travels from Whistler mountain to Blackcomb mountain over a deep valley. It is a breathtaking ride, and totally worth the price of the ticket. I had never ridden the Peak-to-Peak before, so David took time away from skiing to ride over and back with me. What a nice guy!

View from the Peak-to-Peak gondola - Fitzsimmons Creek, between Whistler & Blackcomb peaks

We enjoyed excellent meals in restaurants, both casual and casual-elegant.

At the Rim Rock Cafe

At the Whistler Brew House

The day after we returned, I went to the University of Washington's Medical School and spoke on a panel to 2nd-year students about family-centered care. I had the privilege to serve on another panel two days later, focusing on health-care providers' grief. It is challenging and invigorating work, but I am happy to do it.

Now, I'm shredding old papers and getting my house in order. 2014 is off to a happy beginning for us, and I hope the same is true for you!

Three Years Ago Today

Three years ago today, our niece, Andrea, married Mike Cunningham in a ceremony that was moved up six months in order to allow Katie to be a bridesmaid. Andrea and Mike had asked Katie to be in their wedding the day Katie and David returned home from Camp Goodtimes West. They knew it was one of her dreams, to be a bridesmaid. We found out a couple of weeks later that Katie was going to die.

After she had a few days to process the information, Katie looked at the "Save the Date" card on our refrigerator and asked me, "What if I don't live that long?" That's a hard question to hear, let alone to answer. I was honest. I said I didn't know.

Mike and Andrea came over one day soon after, and said, We want her to be in our wedding and we are going to move it up. How soon should we do it? We answered, The sooner the better, as we've been told she is likely to become paralysed.

Andrea's parents hosted the wedding at their beautiful home on Hood Canal. The sun shone, the attendants and their dresses (and tuxes - David was an usher) were beautiful, and there was deep joy in Andrea and Mike's love - laced with awareness that many of our family members might not see Katie alive again. It was sweet, and bittersweet. Mostly sweet, because a couple deeply in love were united that day - led by their love for one other, and for their family - and their love and unselfishness made it possible for Katie's dream to come true.

One week later, Katie became paralysed from the waist down. A week after that, she passed away. I will always be thankful to Andrea and Mike for the priceless gift that they gave to Katie, and to us.

Happy Anniversary,

Andrea and Mike!

Photos by Paul Dudley Photography

A Crazy Week

This has been a crazy week. But today was a nice Saturday. We finally have some MAY weather here!

Our niece, Andrea, contacted me earlier this week and asked if we would like to join her and her parents for a long beach walk today (Andrea's husband had to work).

YES, we WOULD!

We packed a lunch and headed up to Chuck and Cheri's house, and from there, to Port Townsend.

It was a glorious, sunny, warm day. The beach wasn't even crowded.

By the way, DO NOT bother to ASK ME for directions to this beach; I am not going to divulge it. You must find it for yourself.

We walked somewhere between 6 and 8 miles, had a picnic, enjoyed Andrea and Mike's dogs (Lena and the new puppy, Sam) and the gorgeous view.

If you ever wonder why or how we Washingtonians endure our gray days, these photos from today are as simple an explanation as I can give you.

Part of this week's craziness was due to the following facts:
This is senior prom night.
David doesn't like to dance or attend school dances.

In spite of various helpful clues from his mother over the past few months ("When is Senior Prom?" "Are you thinking of going to your Prom?" "Is there anyone who you might like to ask?" "If you are thinking of asking someone to Prom, a girl needs at least 6 weeks to find a dress." "You do know that you cannot text a girl to invite her, don't you? You have to call her." "You do know that you have to buy her a corsage, don't you? And you need to find out whether she needs a wrist or a pin-on corsage." "You do know that you must find out what color she's wearing, to get the right color of corsage, don't you?") - in spite of all of this helpful hinting, David didn't ask anyone to the dance until two weeks prior.
Girls, I have tried to educate him, really, I have. He's just not that into you (at least, not at this point. That would be a good title for a movie, wouldn't it?)

So he did ask someone - a young lady who he met recently, who attends a different high school. (Note: this means that there wasn't one girl in his entire high school who he wanted to take to his senior prom. Just sayin'.)

She said she wanted to go with him, but had to check on a couple of things first. She didn't mention that she had a boyfriend, and she didn't answer David until three days prior to the prom. Her answer? "No." (Maybe her boyfriend was against the idea; I don't blame him.)

As disappointing as that sounds for David, don't worry about him because
A) he gave her very little notice, because
B) he really didn't care about going because
C) he doesn't like dances and
D) he clearly hadn't given it much thought and
E) it's interesting that she said she WANTED to go with him, when she has a boyfriend and
F) he didn't know she had a boyfriend when he asked her.
So his friends talked him into going to his Senior Prom, stag. Really? Yes, really. I guess this is how things are done nowadays. (I feel a little outdated.)

Since this was planned at the last minute, Gregg and I missed out on the photo session and preparation, because we were in Port Townsend. We hurried home and met David at Starbucks, and took a few photos:

For a guy who doesn't care all that much, he sure looked good!

I hope to get more photos from his friends' parents, whose sons planned ahead (and obviously cared a LOT more about their senior prom than our son does)!
I keep thinking about him, wondering how it's going, and hoping he's having fun.

And a last, random photo:

This is Kathleen and me on her tandem bike, last summer, just after her son Gunnar's passing.

Kathleen puts people on this tandem to find out if they have "control issues." She said I passed with flying colors (but to be honest, I do have control issues).

Kathleen is starting a blog. Hooray for her!

Here is the link.

HE Has Been Good to Me

“For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.”  -Anne Morrow Lindbergh
…and she would know. Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s young son was kidnapped and murdered in 1932, when he was less than two years old.

"Happiness" is a good way to describe many of the years we enjoyed as a family, before Katie was diagnosed with cancer. Gregg, David, Katie and I were a foursome, and we were very happy with that. We had a kind of security, in our family life, our love for each other and our community.

I’ve been suffering from sadness more than usual, this month. It feels as if I've been scaling "the cliffs of despair." If you are a regular reader of my blog, you will know that we scattered some of Katie’s ashes near our family home recently. I was blindsided by how much this event depressed me.

We’ve been living without Katie for two years now. It’s fair to say that I have “made progress” in my grief during that time. By that, I mean that I am now able to function better in the world, two years later, than I was able to do immediately after her passing. I am not the same as I was before her passing, by any stretch of the imagination, but nowadays, I can put dinner together, get through the grocery store, go to a social function, write a letter to the school board and volunteer my services, all with some degree of competence. But after we scattered Katie’s ashes, I had trouble getting dressed and out of the house.

To give you a little perspective, my husband has his career outside of the home; my career is here, in the home. I have lost my job future. I am supposed to be raising Katie and David now. I am supposed to spend the three years after David leaves for college (next autumn) helping Katie move through high school and prepare for college. I have lost my female companion in our home, the feminine “take” on things, the person who could discuss “How do I look in this outfit?,” the girl who I wanted to support, from what to do when you get your first period to “Is this guy worth it?” to marriage and motherhood. I have lost every single day as a stay-at-home mother with her. It’s not just my broken heart we are talking about…it’s also my calling and career path.

During Katie's illness and shortly after her passing, my church imploded, and my closest girlfriend moved to another state. It's fair to say that my entire paradigm and much of my support system has been dismantled. What I have left is my marriage, our son & extended family, our home, a much smaller bank account, a few friends and God. It sounds like a lot to be thankful for, but lately I have been feeling deeply bereft. It's a good enough life, but it's not the life I had, and loved.

Scattering Katie's ashes made the grief for her, and for all that has been lost, fresh and sharp again. I thought it would bring the feeling that we had set her free, because it is the completion of a part of our promise to her. I thought I’d feel hope, because my ashes (and my parents’ ashes) will eventually be scattered in the same place, a place that Katie has loved and visited, literally from her birth, as I have. But it didn’t feel like freedom or hope; it felt like loss, letting go and tearing apart, and it took me back to a depth of sorrow that I haven’t suffered in over a year. I was devastated, almost as if I was watching her die again.

So I went to the funeral home and bought a new, small, heart-shaped urn. I will have some of Katie’s ashes put in it, and I will keep them. I am also going to buy a beautiful box for some of them. We will scatter most of her ashes at Camp Goodtimes, as she requested, but I now know that I have to prepare myself better for the event. It’s much bigger than I thought it would be, and it hurts more than I ever thought it would.

One of the things that helped me through this space was attending the funeral mass of our great-niece, Signe Katherine. Signe passed away on the day she was born, from a massive cerebral hemorrhage.

She was a beautiful and much-loved baby, and I was blessed to be able to hold her, kiss her and witness her baptism on the one day she lived in this world. Though I am not Catholic, Signe's mass gave me great comfort. It brought forth the tears that have been threatening to drown me;  releasing those tears freed me, somehow. I wept for Signe, for her parents - Andrea & Mike, for our extended family, and for Katie. It hurt, but the hurt was held in comfort and prayer, and was presided over with tenderness by the priest who also held and blessed Signe before she passed away. He didn’t offer banalities; he acknowledged the presence of mystery, loss and pain. But he also prayed with us, and for us, and it brought solace to my heart. There was sharing of love and of sorrow. I can see why traditions like these are powerful, meaningful and worthwhile.

This morning, as I sat with delicious coffee in my cup, and the sound of the furnace blowing warm air through our home, I was able to feel thankful, instead of just sad.

Ps. 13: 6    Let me sing of the LORD, “He has been good to me.”
It’s a hard road, but I have hope.  Joy is springing “from the cliffs of despair,” as Anne Morrow Lindbergh said. He has indeed been good to me, and I am grateful.

You can also read this over at Hopeful Parents today.

Signe Katherine Cunningham

The past two weeks have been hard.

You may have read what I wrote about Gunnar's sudden passing. Last week, there was another.

I have held back posting about this, because it is not my story to tell. Gregg didn't want me to write about it, but I know now (because I asked her) that it's easier for Andrea & Mike if other people pass the word around, than if they have to tell the story over and over again.

Our niece & nephew, Andrea and Mike, were expecting their first baby, a girl, to be born in September. Instead, complications arose. Last Friday, the 31st of July (two days before their 2nd wedding anniversary), their beautiful, strawberry-blonde-haired Signe Katherine was born by emergency Ceasarian section. She lived only a few hours, but she was surrounded by love & tender care the entire time.

Mike and Andrea were generous enough to let us hold Signe, kiss her, and be present for her baptism. We stayed together for hours, surrounding her (and them) with love.

I went off by myself for a few minutes, and asked Katie to be ready to greet her cousin when she passed. I hope this is what happened.

My heart is hurting for them. That's one reason why I keep looking at their wedding pictures.

Your prayers for Mike & Andrea, and their extended families, would be greatly appreciated.

More Wedding Memories

These wedding photographs are making me happy, so I am going to post more.

Here are Mike and David. David was an usher in the wedding.

Mike is a firefighter, so he got married in uniform.

Andrea & Mike. Aren't they a beautiful couple?

Katie and Andrea, as Katie gives Paul (the photographer) one of her favorite, signature expressions. So fierce.

Here I am, thanking Andrea. There aren't words adequate to describe this feeling.

Here are Katie and Meghan, watching the ceremony. I wonder what they were thinking. Katie is holding Andrea's bouquet for her.

A close-up of Caroline, Katie and Meghan, watching the ceremony. What a beautiful trio.

Katie and her cousin, Joey (Andrea's brother), walking down the aisle. I love the shot of Katie's delicately beautiful back, and the gorgeous beauty mark on her left scapula. Gregg has one, too...so that's a gift from her daddy.

Hanging out, having fun with my girl, getting ready for the wedding.

Those luminous green eyes, that perfect nose, darling mouth, strong chin, soft, smooth skin, and that beautiful character behind it all...I can't wait to look into Katie's face again, to kiss her and hold her in my arms. I miss my girl.

We Love You, Andrea & Mike!

On this day, two years ago, our niece Andrea married Mike Cunningham, and helped to make one of Katie's dreams come true.

Mike and Andrea were engaged to be married, and had asked Katie to be a bridesmaid in their wedding in February, 2008. When we learned in July, 2007 that Katie's cancer was back - and was terminal - they moved their wedding up - six months early - so that Katie could be sure to be in it.

She was their maid of honor.

That's their dog, Lena (who was also in the wedding), licking Katie's foot.

It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony, in Andrea's parents' front yard. Our talented friend Paul Dudley took the fabulous photos.

We treasure those photos.

Katie passed away exactly two weeks later.

Andrea & Mike: Thank you for starting your marriage by giving our family this precious gift.

We will always celebrate this day with the sweetest memories, and we can never thank you enough.

We love you, Andrea & Mikey!

More Hard Memories (Dad, skip this one!)

More hard memories. You can call them flashbacks, I suppose.

Last night, as I was going to sleep, I was recalling Andrea and Mike's wedding, on August 2nd, two weeks to the day before Katie passed away. Katie had known that she was going to die for about 2 weeks, at that point (but no one knew when it would happen). She needed a lot of pain medicine to be comfortable, but she could still walk a bit. She stayed in her room upstairs most of the time, but on this day, she had to come down, get in the car, ride out to Chuck and Cheri's house (about a 20 minute drive), go upstairs there, change clothes, come downstairs, walk in the wedding procession, go back upstairs to rest (her choice), go back down the stairs, go home in the car, and go back upstairs to her room.

During the course of those activities, I believe that we gave her 6 extra doses of morphine to keep her comfortable, over and above the scheduled anti-inflammatory, anti-nerve-pain and other drugs that she needed around the clock.

But she got to be the MAID OF HONOR that day, which was one of her life's dreams.

She got to wear the gorgeous brown, matte-satin, strapless dress with the ribbon sash, the beautiful brown satin sandals from Zappos, and makeup.

She got to walk down the aisle with her handsome cousin, Joey,

and hold Andrea's bouquet during the ceremony.

Katie posed for hundreds of photographs, which are now treasures to us. It was really a magical day.

But I was recalling the day a week later, when she tried to get out of bed, and her legs buckled under her. I was in her room with her, waiting to help her when she got up, really just waiting for her to decide when she was ready. For a moment, I looked away, which I think is what she wanted; she wanted her independence, but she needed help. She tried to stand by herself, and as she put her weight on her legs, she fell right to the floor.

It was horrible. She was in pain from the fall, and I felt terrible, negligent, awful. I wasn't neglecting her, but any pain that she experienced felt like a failure to protect her on my part. It was one of my fiercest desires: NO MORE PAIN for her. She was on pain medicine around the clock, but as the disease progressed, she needed more medicine to do anything other than lie down. And then, suddenly, she couldn't use her legs anymore. It happened just like that.

It was heart-breaking to watch her try to move her legs with her hands, to position them as she wanted them. I wanted to help, to do it all for her, to take the pain and frustration away, but she was a "tween" who wanted to do things for herself. She didn't want to be babied. She wanted freedom and control, as we all do. So I had to walk a fine line between being ready to help, and letting her try (and even letting her see what she couldn't do). But the day she fell to the floor as I waited to help her get up was a really bad day, and it is a bad memory.

After losing the use of her legs, I thought that she became quite disgusted with the way she was living. She only lived one week after that. We felt that she had sort of "had it" with the way the cancer was causing her life circumstances to dwindle. She was still able to watch TV, movies, visit with people, etc., but was very sleepy and pretty snappy with her dark humor then. She really didn't want to see most anyone outside of the three of us, with very few exceptions.

I have to say, though, that she did & said some of the funniest things, ever, at that time. When Katie couldn't get around on her own anymore, we bought a portable intercom, so that we could hear her voice anywhere, and listen for her in the night, while still giving her a measure of privacy and autonomy in the sanctuary of her room. One evening, Andrea and Mike were over visiting us; Mike was with Katie in her room, and Andrea was with us in the kitchen. Katie decided that she wanted a cool washcloth for her forehead; Mike offered to go and get it for her. She said to him, "No; you're a guest. Watch this," she told Mike, and then yelled into the intercom, "MOM!" I came sprinting up the stairs, and she told me her request. I went to get the cool washcloth for her. Mike said that she was very pleased with herself. We have laughed about that many times: Watch this! Watch me make her dance on the head of a pin!, as Maribeth put it. The simple pleasures of "tween" life, when there are so few pleasures left.

Just look at her expression in this photo, as we arrive at Chuck and Cheri's house for the wedding. I can tell she is probably telling me to stop offering to help her carry her things.

What a gal.