I wrote this post one year ago today.
It was hard to write.
It’s still hard to read.
And I still plan on holding our grandchildren together.
I love you, Rob.
During this whole time, Rob has been amazing. I’m going to tell you the hardest part and time of the last few weeks. I cry even as I think about it.
I wasn’t going to share, but I think it is important for my new friends I have made to know that they aren’t alone. (I have had many new friend requests from women with BC, and I can’t even remember who they all are, it’s that many.)
At night during this weeks without hope, I would lay in bed silently crying. I didn’t want to wake him up. I would look at him and try to figure out how to say something. The doctor told me if it was cancer, I would have weeks, months, maybe a year or two left. What was it that I wanted to say to Rob?
It was that it would be okay for him to move on after I was gone.
He is a good, honest, loving man. I never want him to be alone. Someone to talk about his day, help raise our children, snuggle in bed, sit on the beach and watch the waves crash.
I wanted my children to have a woman to hold them and love them and talk to them and tell them it was okay to not be perfect, but to be kind, to help with their hair in ponytails, and hug them through their life.
I wondered if when we were all in heaven, would Rob still be with me or with her?
But then I thought that it would be the three of us. Because I would watch and love this woman because she loved my family when I wasn’t there.
It going to be ME that does all those things with him. I’m going to grow old with him.
Whenever I am crying, (and it was just fifteen minutes ago and he rolled over and held me), he calms me down. He talks me through my panic attacks. I just feel better when he is with me.
He has done everything for all of us. From talking to Morgan about swimming again, (she hasn’t swam since this started and we may take her just to hug her coaches and friends this week), to snuggling with Quinn every night, to talking to Madison about math and looking up common core algebra… he has been everything.
He has cooked for me, found my missing pills, prayed, hugged, and loved me even harder.
He has told me that I am his miracle.
HE is mine.
“No matter what” is our saying to each other.
Thank you God, for my life and my love. Rob makes me feel hope and love and courage and strength.
And he will continue to do so for the next fifty years or so.
In Jesus’s name, amen.
“No matter what”…