MEMORIAL MEMORIES

In sorting through the stacks of cards that have arrived over the past six months........get well cards, birthday cards, thinking-of-you cards and messages of condolence, there was a letter from Lisa (pictured above) that I thought summed up Mr. Bob's memorial service better than anything I could write and I'd like to share it with you here.

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Dear Jane,

Words are not easy to find.

I didn't want to write until after Bob's memorial. I was sure I would learn a great deal from the Humphrey approach to a major Life event......always with inspiration, imagination, creativity and heart. I knew I would be touched. I knew I would find many valuable lessons. I did not know it would transcend any memorial I've ever attended. It was absolutely perfect from the warm greetings, to the beautiful photographs, to the heartfelt words, to the cloud of pure love emanating from the room. Your family was absolutely beautiful, each and every one. They did their father and their grandfather and their mother proud.

Tim's solo, joined by the jazz band was one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard. It expressed what could never be said with words. And, to end with "When the Saints Go Marching In" and the proud parade of the jazz umbrella.......was to know, without doubt, that a saint went marching in.

I found myself celebrating how loudly Bob lived.....in a very quiet way. I learned so much in his presence. People who live out loud never seem to have the same powerful effect of men like Bob who have no need to brag and boast. Actions define them. I was enheartened by those observations. I watched a real man love his life, his family, his wife, and his friends while saying very few words.

One of my indelible memories will always be the example you both set as husband and wife. It is unparalleled and will always guide me.......perfect in any imperfections, sweeter than any relationship I have ever observed. I have watched you and Bob live it consistently. You were incredible teachers.

The other words that will linger was the compliment that will always define you and Bob........that you changed the Manor. Your presence, your energy, your creativity, your warmth, your service ....gave it new heart, new soul. How beautifully the words were shared and how much it compliments you and Bob. That is a legacy!  That is something to strive for.......and you accomplished that by the sincere act of being yourselves!


Again, I am enheartened.
                                                                All my love,
                                                                              Lisa

Tim spoke of the music that his dad had appreciated.

Tim had taken a few clarinet lessons ten years ago, soon giving it up.
His playing at the memorial came as a complete surprise.

The Golden Eagle Jazz Band marched in after Tim played the opening bars.

Mr. Bob would have loved the music, but he'd never in the world have believed his memorial would draw such a crowd.

My words were few. I said that I had indeed married well and that Mr. Bob would be sorely missed.

Owen and his cousin, Ethan, were models of decorum
during the memorial.

Jeanine had spoken earlier of Mr. Bob winning the
jazz umbrella. He made a gift of it to her and we
were surprised that she brought it to the event and
marched to "When the Saints Go Marching In".

The Manor kitchen prepared a feast of delectable food.

Mr. Bob loved mariachi music, and so did the guests.

Here is Susan and her beautiful daughter and two sons. It was a blessing we
could all be together.

Memorial: A farewell party for someone who already left.z

REMEDIAL ACTIVITY

I'm still here but I've been without access to the internet for six months so imagine my reaction when Tim hooked me up to the world when he visited last evening. The first thing I did was to go to the blog and I read the most recent entries and wept and wept......both at what our offspring wrote and all of your comments. It was quite overwhelming, to put it mildly.

I've forgotten how to blog. It's taken a fair amount of time today just to get this far. Being confined to bed since early February means I've also lost the ability to walk. One should have to learn that skill only once in a lifetime when it's not far to the ground. Arthritis is getting in the way this time as I struggle to make progress.

Surely it goes without saying that I miss Mr. Bob tremendously. So often it feels as though he's just in the other room and the realization that he's not is devastating. It feels as though I'm just now, three months after we lost him, beginning to really grieve. Too many people have been around me in Skilled Nursing and having a roommate, nice as she was, prevented me from venting my emotions.

You saw for yourselves how our children stepped up to the plate and in addition to doing what needed to be done, went way beyond the call of duty. I'm deeply touched by their expressions of devotion. On what would have been our 59th wedding anniversary, they sent me an arrangement of three roses, one representing each of them.  They are indeed special people.

Now the question arises about the wisdom of continuing this blog with the main character missing. Any ideas to help in my decision?

Whether we do or don't keep on with it, please know how important it was to have you walk the path with us as we weathered some very difficult times. It made all the difference in the world to have your support.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

INFUSION DAY

TODAY WAS MY INFUSION DAY. Out the door by 8, into the chilly morning and then it's just a 3 mile drive to the oncologist's. Flavio, the ever-present drawer of blood was serving jury duty this morning, so I'll have to return next week for that portion of the treatment. 


We're there for over 90 minutes for a 5 minute procedure so I always take something to read. Today I plowed through a waiting room copy of "Vanity Fair" and read a whole, long article on Sarah Palin before checking the date and I found I was reading a 2009 edition. Oh, well. It was a revealing article. Mr. Bob is more than happy to snooze during the time that we're there. 







When my sight blurs from reading, I turn to picture taking and our new iPhone camera has a feature whereby we can turn the lens around and become ashamedly self-centered as seen here...............................








Mr. Bob was being silly one day recently and came up with this self portrait...................

Remember what we said? We'll get through this but we won't ever look the same. Maybe this is what it means.

WEEKEND MISCELLANEA

A DOZEN UNRELATED photos for you this morning, a way to reduce the cache of pictures waiting in the wings.

Headed somewhere with Diane and Roger, when Mr. Bob still had his license to drive.

This place was never open, but every time we were in Alameda, it intrigued me. I love small.

Nothing this good can be considered junk food. 

Sometimes we take our slice of pie home, but it's always included somehow.

I wonder why I find this so much preferable to "Be strong", but I do.

Diane and Roger waiting for us to go to Sunday breakfast. We find that a friendship flourishes with pre-arranged meetings.

A back view of the Manor. We live in the "high rise" behind the lit part of the building.

 We went to a culinary school in New Orleans where we were told, "If you're cooking electric, there's only one thing to do.........move."
Unrelated to New Orleans, I've found no better recipe for chicken wings and I miss being able to produce them.

A view from the hospital window of Susan indulging in a very hard-to-break habit.

The cousins in a rare get-together.

Bob, the Bear and Mr. Bob on Hallowe'en.

Those were the days, my friends, when at least we were unaware that we were sick.

MY PLAYMATE

WHERE HAS HE GONE? We weren't silly all the time in the 60 years we've known each other, but we had a lot of laughing moments together. Mr. Bob has a playful side that is utterly delightful. Everybody who gets to see it is instantly charmed. It's not the "lampshade on the head" sort of humor, but his very own brand that I don't know quite how to describe. By nature, he's a quiet man and when his impish quality peeps out it's a bit of a surprise and very endearing.

 

The next 3 pictures show him playing with Owen.

The playful nature still shows once in a while when we're with other people, so I know it's still there, but for the past 8 months since cancer has invaded our lives, there've been no mischievous moments at home. And I miss that, terribly. It seems that dealing with various combinations of chemotherapy and radiation saps our combined strength and most often results in irritation, anger, irk as we ruffle each other's feathers. And we live in very small quarters; there's only one other room to storm into when it gets to be too much.  My daughter tells me that what we're going through is monumental and staggering, with two of us battling the same disease. It's a good thing we're living in a retirement community where there's frequent opportunity to put on our happy faces and interact with other people. 


I fervently hope this is a temporary condition and worry a little that a year is plenty long to form new habits, even bad ones. Keeping this web log is a wonderful outlet for me. Television and napping seem to be Mr. Bob's salvation. As my friend's mother says, "We'll get through this, but we won't ever look the same."

"Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly."  

                                                  ~Rose Franken

TOO MUCH TO TELL YOU

HERE IT IS, Christmas Eve and time is getting short and there's so much to share with you that I'm putting it all in one posting.

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My clever brother sent this picture to the guests that came to his house for dinner. He's a fabulous cook and I'm jealous of his abilities. He also sent me this link and I'm passing it along to you:

hhttp://www.carlsonschool.umn.edu/holiday11/

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This is the Big Bertha radiation machine that Mr. Bob visits five days a week. When he's accomplished 35 treatments, he'll be through. Fingers crossed, prayers uttered.

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The next picture was taken months ago. Mr. Bob's hair has grown back so nicely that he required a trim yesterday. Our daughter, Susan, asked that he please see that his Andy-Rooney type eyebrows get some attention.

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Owen, returning to the Oakland Airport at night, following 4 stimulating days in Florida, visiting theme parks with all their wonders, looked out the window as the plane was descending and observed, "Wow! Planet Earth!"

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The following is another "old" photo from the archives. We'll be around this table at 4 this afternoon to celebrate Mr. Bob's birthday whether he likes it or not. Remember, he's definitely not big on birthdays, his own or anyone else's.

But on Thursday evening, the guest mariachi band encircled him and serenaded the birthday boy.

  Here's the evidence:

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Another from my brother:

http://www.wimp.com/glassharp/

O TANNENBAUM

WHAT WAS THERE ABOUT THIS YEAR that made me decide on a whim to purchase a tree? It's to be a year of no material gifts whatsoever, neither given, nor received and I surprised myself by buying an 8 inch wreath and a small swag for our front door, mostly so we could get a whiff of Christmas now and again. That aroma is too good to give up and before my purchases dried up, they didn't offer much in the way of the sweet smell of Christmas.

I passed this sign on the way home from breakfast last Sunday and circled the block, whipped into a parking place and asked my Scrooge how he felt about choosing a tree. Amazingly, he was game and soon reappeared with a perfect little evergreen.

At home he emerged from the passenger side with his tree just as Clara was finishing her three-times-around-the-block-equals-one-mile ritual and she insisted on hanging the tree on her walker to take it inside.

Although she lives on the first floor, she marched on to the elevator and when we got to our door, Clara had the littlest Christmas tree waiting for us.

I couldn't resist taking a picture for the archives. I know that we had a traditional live tree, fully decorated, as the children were growing up, but I wonder at what point we jettisoned the practice to devote all of our energies toward the extra hours of retail demands at that time of year.

Our daughter remembers, perhaps too vividly, the year I was determined to have a tree in every room of the house and proceeded to buy our six trees, standing them in buckets of water on the patio and after Christmas, carrying them from the back yard out to the trash pickup location at the curb. They never saw the inside of the house. A total waste of money. Foolish and frustrating, more so even than the year I mixed up several batches of cookie dough in November, labeling them with oven temperature and baking time before finding room for them in the freezer. My organizational efforts always fail and we didn't get around to Christmas cookie baking until the next February.

So you can see the import of acquiring a tree this year of all years, a year that I can't label "bad" even though we've been challenged beyond anything that's happened to us before. I can't speak for Mr. Bob, but I have found unexpected gifts in the situation, perhaps most of all the receiving of your friendship as you've cheered us on along this unknown path.

"Tradition:

sit with husband

in a room

lit only by 

tree lights and remember that 

our blessings outnumber the lights. 

Happy Christmas to all!"

                                                                                      Betsy Caños Garmon

"GETTING TO GO"

I'LL FOREVER WONDER if the reason I came through the mastectomy without losing my sanity might be because I had become so hungry for something different to do that I welcomed even what promised to be a negative experience. I'm a hypochondriac who is deathly afraid of doctors, and the family marveled at what appeared to be "bravery" on my part, but I don't think it could be termed "courage" and certainly not "fearlessness"......how embarrassing if it was merely "boredom".




So after seeing Mr. Bob through months of treatment (and one of these days I must come clean about what living with chemo was REALLY like, but not just yet), and weeks of my own tests and surgery and recuperation and the beginning of my own  chemotherapy program, the last week of "rest" between medications has been what in the drug world might be termed a "trip". 


Even though my eyesight seems to have dimmed somewhat, my receptors have been overwhelmed with insights and ideas and appreciations. One night I made myself get up at 3 a.m. to write down some of the thoughts that were flooding my brain, just so I could fall back into the sleep that usually comes so easily.

I've been letting myself be more spontaneous about going places and following through on ideas, dragging my own precious Scrooge along with me, so far with less complaints from him than when I'm trying to please him rather than myself. 


A friend I'd not seen for months suggested meeting for lunch last week and the actuality brought me such pleasure that I determined to indulge myself more often. That very same evening we joined our former neighbors for our monthly Chinese dinner at a big round table with a lazy Susan in the middle, laden with succulent offerings; definitely the way to go at an Asian restaurant is with a large group which gives one a taste of many flavors. After dinner I drove through Montrose which always enhances one's Christmas spirit.  The tree that was written about in scathing terms in our local paper didn't shock me at all, but rather brought a smile to my face because it dared to be so different. I know who wrote the letter of complaint and I'm sitting on my hands to keep from responding. Christmas isn't the time to be argumentative.

Two days later, we partied rather than stitching at the weekly Needlepoint Group, with lunch and an ornament exchange that was good fun.


Breakfast with friends on  Sunday, after which, wonder of wonders, I was moved to get the first Christmas tree we've had in probably 15 years. I'll do a separate entry about it. I still can't believe it happened as I marvel at the whiffs of Christmas that emanate from it.


Remember, everything that I like, I tend to do in excess and being sprung from what felt like bondage, showed that tendency of mine, so on Monday after taking Mr. Bob to the cardiologist ("everything's fine.....see you in 3 months"), we stopped at Leon's, a new bakery in town and shared a pulled pork sandwich with extra aioli.














Mr. Bob's radiation

appointment on Tuesday took longer than usual; I would have had to drive over the speed limit to get back to the Manor before they stopped serving dinner, so I found a parking place and we enjoyed seafood at Clancy's......Mr. Bob ordered cedar plank salmon. He said not a word about its being good. I hope it was. My fish and chips were excellent.


This morning early I descended to the bowels of the building and had my hair washed and blown dry before rising to the occasion of taking Bob for his daily dose of electromagnetic waves; from there to the credit union and next our minivan nosed its way to a place called The Toasted Bun where we had a late breakfast.

I'm ashamed of the amount of hedonism I've exhibited in this past week. In my heart of hearts I know that I'd do it again, given the chance. I can feel a New Year's resolution or 2 coming up. Meanwhile, "DECADENCE" is my word of the month. At a nearby school, it appears to be something else.

"Too much of a good thing can be wonderful."
                                  ~ Mae West