Stepping Up

It's been two years today since we lost Kristine.

Over the past month, I've had quite a few people comment on how I look. Mostly about my hair...which I initially thought was weird because I haven't changed it much. I did get a new blow dryer with a built-in round brush this summer...it smooths my hair better than ever...so I'm assuming that's it. But a few of these comments have felt deeper..."you're glowing"..."you seem lighter"..."your soul seems happy"...

As nice as those comments sound, they bothered me. I was discussing this with my dear friend, Michelle, the other night. She also said that I seemed better. It's strange how I don't want to be "better"...I am not "over" this and never will be! However, the truth is that I am coping...and maybe I've learned some things that are allowing me to cope well.

I did a bible study by Beth Moore over the summer called Stepping Up: a Journey Through the Psalms of Ascent. I was drawn to it because I felt far from God. He is the One who allowed Kristine to suffer and die. He is the One who allowed us to experience such tremendous, heart-wrenching loss. I should be done with Him...but I'm not. If everything I've believed is true, I have no option but to continue this relationship with Him...if only to see Kristine again one day. So, I chose this study in the hopes of drawing nearer to God...stepping up to Him.

Many years ago, Mike and I were going through a very difficult time in our marriage. A dear friend and wonderful counselor told me that if we stuck it out and worked through it, we would get to the other side. The other side...a place where you look back and realize the struggle was worth it. Your marriage is better than it ever could be because of what you've been through together. Well, she was right. Mike and I are on the other side. Oh, we still bicker and argue, but our relationship is stronger, deeper, and more committed than ever...and I know we owe that to the Lord. We can truly look back and say that what we went through in our marriage, although really painful, was worth where we are today.

There is no other side when you lose a child...we will never look back and say where we're at today was worth losing Kristine...never ever.

So, I'm constantly searching for and seeking the answers to unanswerable questions...why is Kristine gone...what good did her death accomplish...what was/is the purpose of losing her???

And I've come to the conclusion that it was for her.

Not much has comforted me since losing Kristine, but I hold on to the few things that have. A few weeks after she passed away, I was at church. I wish I could quote the pastor verbatim, but I can't, so I'll paraphrase. He basically told the congregation that the reason they were here (on Earth and in church) is because they weren't ready for heaven. That hit me like a ton of bricks. Kristine must have been ready for Heaven or He wouldn't have taken her...her job on Earth was done...she has achieved perfection.

While this thought has comforted me, I still need more. I need to know what Kristine is experiencing in Heaven. I need to know she's okay. And that's where Stepping Up has stepped in and comforted me. Beth Moore writes,

"What about when something deadly happens such as when we lost loved ones who loved God? Where was God's surrounding presence then? That's where the ultimate trust enters in. If we believe God's words are true, when tragedy strikes we've got to believe God has us so tightly interwoven in His care that we are instantaneously swept to heaven. God never more closely surrounds us than when He lifts us to His breast and carries us home." (Stepping Up, p.73)

Two years ago today, I know that Kristine was enveloped in God's arms, head against His chest, and taken home...not for me, but for her.

Although there is no "other side" of this, there can be a sense of peace. Maybe I'm better, lighter, and more at peace knowing Kristine felt the overwhelming love of God as she passed into His presence.

What Makes a Great Mom?

It's Mother's Day...a tough day for anyone who has lost a child...but it's also tough for many others: those who've lost their mom, women yearning to be a mom, and those who have a difficult relationship with their mother.

So, what makes a great mom?

I recall a conversation I had with Kristine shortly before she got married. I told her that I knew I had made mistakes as a wife and a mother, and I prayed the Lord would cover those mistakes so that my kids wouldn't repeat them in their families. I do not have this grand delusion that I've been this amazing super mom...I want all of my kids to reject anything I've done 'wrong' and embrace what I've done 'right'. It is my heart's desire that my children strive to be better than me in all ways...don't we all wish that?

I wanted to know what stuck with people though...what they took from their own childhood into their parenting. There was quite a bit of dysfunction in my own childhood, so I needed to hear from others. I did an informal survey last week asking this question: What did your mother do while raising you that made a significant impact on how you mother your own children?

The responses did not surprise me...in fact, they reinforced what I'd long believed. Most of the responses had to do with being supportive and involved in their children's lives. Even those that had a negative experience with their own mother chose to turn that into something positive with their parenting. As Dr. Laura would say, we only have two opportunities for a healthy parent/child relationship...we have no control over the first opportunity because we're the child, but we have complete control over the second opportunity, so make the best of it.

"She was involved in my life...whatever was important to her kids, she tried to do!"

"I try to understand and support without judgement..."

"I knew I was loved, I was accepted. I want my children to follow their arrow, find their place knowing I'm ALWAYS supporting them like my momma would."

"I am determined to be present in my children's lives..."

"She always made us feel important...she was at every one of our sporting events...and was our biggest/loudest cheerleader."

These responses comforted me...I was never the mom to do whatever was 'in' at that time, yet there have always been those "mean girl moms" that love to build themselves up by putting others down...making moms feel guilty is ugly...period. To know that what sticks with your children is about the relationship you've built with them, not anything else, is encouraging. However, relationships take work...it's probably easier to do the 'in' thing and just feed them vegan frog's milk and only allow them to watch PBS on the second Thursday of each month. :)

So, what did I do right? What do I hope my kids will take to their own children? I don't know...but  when your grown children choose to spend time with you...not just on holidays or special occasions, but any day...when they come to you to discuss life, get advice, even gossip about the aforementioned mean girls...that's when you know you've done something right. The true test for me is that they want me to be a very real and present part of their lives.

********************

As I sat with Kristine during her final days, I wished so badly to be able to talk with her. I'm not sure what I wanted...to hear that she was ready to go perhaps...would that have made me feel better? One thing kept going through my head...did she know how much she was loved, not just at that moment, but throughout her life...did she know how fiercely I loved her? Was I a good mother to her? To be honest, I felt like I had failed her because of where we were at that moment.

Here is where I'm so thankful for Facebook...I get reminders of how she felt about me. I can go back through her past posts and hear her voice and know her heart. I spent about three hours today just reading a couple years of her posts...it hurts, but it makes me feel her with me. And after reading them, I know she felt loved by me...and that's the best I can hope for.

Happy Mother's Day

The Significance of Today

Dates are significant...especially to someone with a memory like mine. I'm like an elephant...I never forget...anything. So whenever something significant happens, whether good or bad, happy or sad, that date becomes embedded in my mind.

I met Mike on August 13, 1987. I can remember counting the months we were dating based on that date, and now I count the years we've been together from it. It's always been a happy date for me. We've been a couple for over 30 years...over half my life!

So here I am on March 13, 2018. This date did not sneak up on me. I've known it was coming. The 13th of every month has taken on a new significance since losing our precious Kristine on September 13, 2017. Why? It should be no worse than any other day without her...but still, it is. I guess it's the counting of time...she's been gone one month, then two months, three months, four months, five months...and now six months.

It's not getting easier...in fact, I think it's gotten harder in many ways. Time is not healing this wound.

The worst feeling is that one right after I wake up and remember she's really gone. Or when I get in the car after work and I don't have the busyness of the day to distract me. Or when I'm lying in bed praying for sleep to overtake me. It's a very real physical pain...yet no physical pain can honestly compare to it. It's a crushing feeling...this pain of grief...a heaviness on my chest that has made me wonder if I'm having a heart attack. I have actually thought to myself that a heart attack might actually bring relief from this pain. But it's no heart attack...it's a truly broken heart.

This morning I woke up and acknowledged to myself the significance of this date. And then another date jumped into my mind...tomorrow...March 14, 2018. Tomorrow morning, seventeen families will be waking up to the realization that it's been one month since their sons, daughters, and husbands were violently taken from them. My heart breaks for those families.

I know what they're feeling, yet I don't.

My daughter did not die from a violent crime, just a violent disease.

I can empathize with their loss, but I can't help them.

No one can alter or shorten this journey.

It is lonely...even when you're on it with people you love.

Looking Back, Moving Forward

What does one do on New Year's Eve but reflect on the past year and look forward with hope towards the new one? As one who regularly reflects and plans, this is usually something I thoroughly enjoy. I love looking back at the fun times, special moments, and accomplishments of the year. I even like reflecting on the negative aspects of the year, those things that didn't go well, and making a plan of attack to turn it around in the coming year. I get to set up my brand new planner and make lists of things I want to accomplish...yes, I make resolutions every year...no, I don't follow through on all of them...but I do follow through on some.

On NYE 2016, I was full of hope. I was surrounded by my loved ones. Kristine was responding well to treatment, and I was certain metastatic melanoma was going to be defeated in 2017. My sweet grandson, Dylan, had entered our family and was infecting us all with joy. We were in the midst of planning an epic family vacation to Hawaii. If I had had a crystal ball at that moment, I would've done things differently in 2017. Alas, there are no crystal balls in real life. We can only move forward with the information we have, prayers for guidance, and faith we are following the right path.

So, how to reflect on 2017? It was, without a doubt, the worst year of my life. I don't know how else to describe it. There were wonderful moments and sweet memories made that I wouldn't trade for anything, but 2017 will forever be associated with losing my precious Kristine. Nothing from the year will ever overshadow that.

And now, how do I look forward to the coming year? 2018 won't be the best year ever...that designation has passed...and I'm not sure which year was the best now...I'll need to do some serious reflection to figure that one out. 2018 can't even be better than 2017 because it will be missing Kristine. I'm not trying to be negative, I just can't imagine ever feeling that any future year will be the best. Every future year will be missing Kristine.

There is a scene from This Is Us that perfectly illustrates how I feel. SPOILER ALERT! For those that don't watch the show, it jumps back and forth in time to tell the story of three siblings and their parents, and the dad passes away when the kids are teens. That's oversimplification at its finest, but I'm not here to review the show. Anyway, in this episode, Rebecca (the mom) is present when Randall's wife delivers their first baby. Rebecca begins crying afterward. Randall asks why she's crying. This is her response:

"That was one of the happiest moments of my life...

but also, your dad isn't here...

and that's just something I'm going to have to deal with for the rest of my life.

The happiest moments will also be a little sad."

I know that wonderful moments are coming and sweet memories are still to be made, but every one will be a little sad for me because Kristine isn't here to experience them with us.

Which brings me to #onelittleword. I love words. And I love choosing words intentionally. Yesterday, I made a list of words to guide me through 2018. Words that would help focus my goals. After I made my list, I was on Instagram and saw a post for #onelittleword. Someone I follow had posted that they were choosing the word 'restore' as their word for 2018. 'Restore' was one of the words I had listed, so I felt confirmation that it should be my focus for the year...I didn't even know what #onelittleword was about, but loved the idea of having a focus word for the year.

I decided to research this #onelittleword movement and found myself at Ali Edwards website. I'm now all in and have signed up for the workshop. I then dove in to the word 'restore' and hit a roadblock. The definition is to return to its original condition. That just doesn't seem possible for my heart. I didn't want to choose a word that could not truly be achievable...at least not now. So, I just stared at my list, looked at synonyms, and began to feel defeated. I just wanted a word to inspire me to move forward...to walk this path I've been set upon. WALK...that was it! WALK is the perfect word for me. It's a noun and a verb. It can refer to my walk with God, it can refer to moving forward through my grief, it can refer to getting healthy...it seems to encompass everything I wanted.

So, how will I look forward to 2018? I'm going to WALK through it.

O Come Let Us Adore Him

I actually wrote this a couple weeks ago, but was reluctant to post it. On one hand, I worry about what people will think when I lay my thoughts and feelings out there...I don't want people I care about to feel uncomfortable and pull away from me...I've already experienced that, and it sucks. On the other hand, I don't care one bit what people think...most aren't walking this road, so have no idea how they'd walk it themselves...and no one is forced to read it.

Many, many years ago, I was at a home fellowship and a mother had received that dreaded diagnosis that her son had brain cancer. I can vividly recall her sobs, her moans, her whys. It overwhelmed me...I felt like I was invading her privacy and witnessing such an intimate moment. So I get it, grief makes people uncomfortable, raw emotion makes people twinge...we don't want to witness it because we can't do anything about it.

Anyway, today I decided to post it.

O Come Let Us Adore Him

When Kristine was first diagnosed with stage IV metastatic melanoma on 8/2/16, Dawn and I, with Dylan in tow, were on a plane to Alabama the very next day. The visit was quite the opposite of what I expected...it was very vacation-like. We had fun, went on a dolphin cruise, went shopping, and ate. I thought we'd be packing them up and moving them home to California. Everything I'd read gave a very negative prognosis of 2-4 months. Yet, Kristine and Stephen were positive and hopeful, and it rubbed off on me.

Our last night there, I had not had a chance to talk to Kristine alone, so I asked if she'd go to Walmart with me. We sat in the car in the parking lot and had a heart-to-heart. That was one of the most significant conversations I've ever had in my life. One thing she said really resonated with me. She told me she believed she would beat the cancer because the Lord had confirmed to her that she would have children. At that very moment, I thought, 'You do have children...in heaven.' The thought scared me, so I didn't say anything about it to her. She had miscarried twins in the summer of 2014. Was the Lord preparing me to lose her with the comfort that she would be with her babies?

Fast forward to today. Mike and I were entering church and ran into the daughter of one of my dear friends. She was a bridesmaid in Kristine's wedding and now is married and has children. She had a perfect messy bun and a baby on her hip. She was leaving church and had that breathless sounding voice of a young mom. I chatted briefly with her and then we entered the church as her sweet little family left.

We found seats and I was overcome with emotion. Kristine wanted children more than anything...she would've loved to be rushing around with a baby in her arms...she prayed fervently and ached for what most of us would call normal. She just wanted a normal life. She didn't want to be rich, powerful, or famous. She just wanted a life where the biggest stressors were bills, kids, and busyness. Instead, she was in a battle for her very life.

The worship team came to the stage and began singing O Come Let Us Adore Him. I was sobbing and thankful the music was loud and that we had chosen seats in the back row. I noticed people looking at me, so I tried to get it together, but to no avail.

Now, I'm going to make a statement that might shock some people. Some may even say it's blasphemous. I do not adore Him right now. Oh, I am going through the motions. I go to church sometimes, I go to bible study, I sing the songs, I pray, but I'm not feeling adoration. Or joy...

Yes, I know where she is.
I know she's whole.
I know she's free from pain.
I know she's free from suffering.
I know she's reunited with her babies.
I know she understands why this happened.

But I don't.

And while all that I know does bring me some comfort...it's not enough. Not now, not yet, maybe not ever.

Eternally 32

Today is Kristine's birthday. Thirty-three years ago that precious girl entered my life. Today should be a day of celebrating. Even though we may not have been able to be with her on her birthday every year, we always bombarded Facebook and Instagram with pictures of her, and texted or called and wished her a happy birthday. Stephen undoubtedly would have had something wonderful planned for her. They both always went above and beyond for each other to make birthdays special.

But today we aren't celebrating...we're remembering...and missing...and still so heartbroken.

When I remember the pain and suffering Kristine endured in the final months of her life, I'm grateful she's in heaven and whole again. When I remember everything but the pain and suffering from the melanoma that wreaked havoc on all of our lives, I'm angry and sad and devastated at losing her...and not just for myself...

for Stephen, her husband, who lost the love of his life, 

for Mike, her dad, who lost one of his precious daughters, 

for Dawn, her older sister, who basically lost her twin as close as they were,

for Becca, her younger sister, who lost someone she looked up to and admired,

for Matt, her little brother, who lost someone he could be goofy and nerdy with,

for everyone that loved her, and even the world. 

She was a special person who was doing real good in this evil world.

Matt texted me today saying, "We lost a sense of joy and happiness because she brought a fun side to everything we did." He's so right. All of our family's happiest moments include her...and now they won't. We are going to have to work hard to make more happy moments without her...and as sad as that makes me feel as I type this, I know it's the right thing to do. I know that I want my family to have happy times together after I'm gone, so I know that Kristine wants that for all of us. I just think I'll bring a bit of Kristine into every happy moment I can. 

So happy birthday to my sweet Kristine...today she would have turned 33, but instead...

today she is eternally beautiful

today she is eternally healthy

today she is eternally 32.

How Did We Get Here?

I had grandiose plans to continue my blog after our trip to Europe in 2010...obviously, that didn’t happen. I truly enjoyed blogging as we traveled, but it was definitely a commitment to post every day. Once home, the busyness of everyday life took over. I’ve mentally written multiple posts over the years...they just never made it out of my brain.

So much has changed in the seven years since that memorable trip. The most wonderful change...I’m a Grammy! Dylan was born on May 6, 2016. He is the joy of my heart and my main reason to smile during this time of overwhelming grief. Which leads to the most devastating change...cancer entered our lives. Kristine battled metastatic melanoma for over a year, and we lost our sweet daughter on September 13, 2017.

Dylan meets his beautiful Aunt Rity

A couple weeks ago, I was asked to share Kristine’s story by a woman I became friends on Facebook with through a melanoma support page. This wonderful woman, Kristi Donahue, is dedicated to increasing awareness of melanoma and sharing the stories of those who have fought and are still fighting this horrible cancer. I finally sat down this weekend to write Kristine’s story for her...talk about procrastination! I decided to share it here as a way of giving some background to how we got here.

Family Cruise - June 2013

June 2013 - Our whole family met in New Orleans and took a cruise to celebrate our 25th anniversary and renew our vows. Kristine showed me a mole on her back. She was concerned about it because it was itchy and would bleed at times. I told her she needed to get it checked out as soon as possible. I recall being worried, but not my usual over-the-top worried. If it was skin cancer, they’d remove it and that would be the end of it...right? I didn’t know that skin cancer could be deadly. I’d heard the names basal cell carcinoma, squamous cell carcinoma, and melanoma...but they were all the same to me.

August 2013 - Kristine had the mole biopsied and it was melanoma. They did a wide excision to make sure they got it all. They even did a sentinel lymph node biopsy that came back negative. For those that may want to know, it was a Clark level 3 and Breslow thickness 2 mm.

On a side note, most people that know me know that I’m a researcher...I research everything. In fact, I will not talk out of my butt...if I’m speaking knowledgeably about something, I either have personal experience with it or I’ve researched it pretty extensively. Some may call me a know-it-all, but I do NOT speak on subjects that I don’t actually know about. I know what I know and I know what I don’t know. If I don’t know something, I admit it and seek out someone who does. That said, I have no idea why I did not research melanoma back in 2013. I thought it was gone and out of our lives. It would’ve taken very little research to learn how serious it is and how watchful we should’ve been. That is my first regret in a long line of regrets concerning Kristine’s battle.

June/July 2014 - Kristine found out she was pregnant with twins. Sadly, she lost them shortly afterward. I only mention this because I have read reputable articles about a connection between melanoma and pregnancy...specifically that the hormones produced during pregnancy may cause melanoma to spread. To be fair, I have also found reputable articles stating that there is no connection. I can’t help but wonder though.

The next two years were a flurry of activity for our family. Dawn and Joe were married in March of 2015, and my adorable grandson was born in May of 2016.

Dawn's Wedding

Summer 2016 - Kristine came to California to see Dylan after he was born. She felt a lump under her breast that was painful. After returning to Alabama, she saw her dr and had the lump biopsied. It was melanoma. She had a PET scan and MRI at the end of July to see if it was anywhere else. On Aug. 2, 2016, we received the devastating news...stage 4 metastatic melanoma. She had numerous lesions throughout her body, including in her brain, liver, lungs, and spine...too numerous to count.

Treatment with Southern Cancer Center in Foley, Alabama

• Three weeks of whole brain radiation (WBRT) in Aug 2016
• Began tafinlar and mekinist combo in Sep 2016...very quickly noticed the tumors shrinking
• Brain MRI in Nov 2016...all the brain mets were gone
• Brain MRI in Jan 2017...still clear
• PET scan in early Mar 2017...only four tumors left in her body, but two are new

March 2017 - At this point, her doctor recommended staying on taf/mek until she stopped responding and then moving on to immunotherapy. She began to notice growth in one old tumor (axilla) and one new one (lower back). I had been wanting her to see a melanoma specialist and Kristine and Stephen agreed, so we went to MD Anderson for a consult in late Mar 2017. They recommended a clinical trial, but she would need to have a wash-out period and be off the taf/mek for four weeks. We left feeling very hopeful.

1st Visit to MD Anderson in Houston

May 2017 - We returned to MDA the first week of May to begin the clinical trial. She met with the dr and shared that she'd been having headaches (as well as other side effects) for a couple weeks. He sent her for a CT of the brain and we found out that the brain mets are back...too numerous to count and some very large. She was disqualified from the trial. The dr believes that while the tumors in her body had stopped responding to the taf/mek, it’s possible that the taf/mek was holding the brain mets at bay. We consulted with a radiation oncologist and neurosurgeon, both recommended WBRT. Kristine returned to Alabama where she underwent a second round of WBRT. She then began to taper off steroids in order to begin immunotherapy.

June 2017 - Kristine began to feel numbness in her right foot in early June. An MRI of her spine on 6/6 showed four tumors in the thoracic region. The numbness progressed to being unable to walk by 6/8. I flew out there and then flew back to California with her on 6/13 as we had a family vacation in Hawaii planned for 6/20. I had contacted a few top melanoma specialists in the Los Angeles area and got her an appointment with Dr. Hamid at The Angeles Clinic the day we flew in. He recommended she begin the ipi/nivo combo immediately. Our family went to Hawaii for a week...it wasn’t the vacation we all envisioned when we planned it pre-diagnosis, but I’m so glad that we all had that time together. After returning from Hawaii, Kristine and Stephen moved into our home so we could help Stephen care for Kristine.

Treatment with The Angeles Clinic in Santa Monica, CA

• 1st ipi/nivo treatment on 6/16
• 2nd ipi/nivo treatment on 7/10
• hospitalized 7/13-7/20 to deal with side effects
• 3rd ipi/nivo treatment on 7/31
• hospitalized 7/31-8/4 to deal with side effects
• 4th ipi/nivo treatment on 8/21
• MRI on 8/29...showed 20% reduction in brain mets

Kristine was hospitalized on 8/29 with a DVT and pulmonary embolism. She became unresponsive within a couple days. Doctors tried everything they could, but she did not recover. We brought her home on hospice on 9/11. She passed away, surrounded by love, just two days later.