My posts starting in April of 2017 all revolved around the battle we fought to keep my beloved Warren alive and to get him well. From the day we got the diagnosis in May of 2016, this was a battle waged by our entire family.
Our sons became extreme activists. Every night, Abbott would comb the Internet looking for any and all information on different treatments. He came up with so much information it was mind-boggling. And every bit of information was copied to us as we all followed up on every piece. Much of the information was beneficial and we made good use of what we learned.
In the meantime, Ethan was doing some of the same and calling constantly, feeding us information with a very liberal amount of encouragement. Between the two guys, we were able to take advantage of every lead, protocol, or treatment available here in the U.S and elsewhere. The decisions we made were based upon all the information we, as a family, gathered from not only the Internet but from picking the brains of everyone we knew who might have leads for us to follow. And there were many.
I am convinced that the incredible love, support and encouragement we got from our sons lengthened the days our Warren was able to spend with us. And those days were quality days because of the alternative protocols he followed.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention how important our doggies were in all this. Somehow they knew Warren was not well and they stayed by his side or on his lap constantly, heaping tons of affection on him. Warren got a lot of pleasure from their attention.
The love and support of our sons was key in this journey of hope and our lives were enriched beyond measure because of them. Warren and I spoke often about how blessed we were to have such incredibly wonderful sons and we joked often that we really did something right! They continue to be a source of love and pride and comfort for me.
Ethan and Abbott, you have my heart!
Copyright©2018 Reisa Sterling Miller All Rights Reserved
Thursday, June 28, 2018
Thursday, June 21, 2018
Perhaps we will sit on that cloud forever.
We're sitting on a cloud, side by side, about forty to fifty feet above our back yard and just enjoying the view and the peacefulness. The conversation is soft and pensive. We speak wistfully about the landmarks that dotted our lives, starting with our wedding day. When we talk about what we considered to be the best day of our lives, we laugh and agree that there was more than just one "best day of our lives." Our wedding day and the days each one of our sons was born comes to mind. And there were so many more!
The reminiscing continues as we remember so many wonderful things that encompassed our lives: the experience of being in the Air Force for five years and our travels during that time - the incredible friends we made and places we saw; our subsequent civilian moves, settling in a few states and making more wonderful friends along the way.
After all of this comes flashing through my mind at lightning speed, other thoughts start to crowd in.
I tell him I never expected him to die. I felt that way all throughout the ordeal we lived through. I always thought we, together, would beat this scourge.
Even during his last few days, I tell him, "I never once thought things wouldn't turn around."
He smiles at me, gives me a hug and says my optimism was contagious and that he, too, had the hope of a recovery.
"I never saw you doubt what you were doing to get well," I whispered.
"I never did." he says.
And so, he tells me that the only regret he has is that we didn't have more time together. We were hoping for maybe seventy years together......or just maybe forever.
But oh, look at the life we made..... so full of life and love and happiness.
And as we sit on that cloud, arms around each other, whispering softly, sighing and smiling, I know that he remains with me, always.... in my heart, in my mind, when I pick up a beautiful bird feather, when I see a single bright star, when I hear a joke or pun, or music we both loved. I remember and love him with every breath I take, every single minute of every single day and always will.....even after I take my last breath.
Copyright©2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved
The reminiscing continues as we remember so many wonderful things that encompassed our lives: the experience of being in the Air Force for five years and our travels during that time - the incredible friends we made and places we saw; our subsequent civilian moves, settling in a few states and making more wonderful friends along the way.
After all of this comes flashing through my mind at lightning speed, other thoughts start to crowd in.
I tell him I never expected him to die. I felt that way all throughout the ordeal we lived through. I always thought we, together, would beat this scourge.
Even during his last few days, I tell him, "I never once thought things wouldn't turn around."
He smiles at me, gives me a hug and says my optimism was contagious and that he, too, had the hope of a recovery.
"I never saw you doubt what you were doing to get well," I whispered.
"I never did." he says.
And so, he tells me that the only regret he has is that we didn't have more time together. We were hoping for maybe seventy years together......or just maybe forever.
But oh, look at the life we made..... so full of life and love and happiness.
And as we sit on that cloud, arms around each other, whispering softly, sighing and smiling, I know that he remains with me, always.... in my heart, in my mind, when I pick up a beautiful bird feather, when I see a single bright star, when I hear a joke or pun, or music we both loved. I remember and love him with every breath I take, every single minute of every single day and always will.....even after I take my last breath.
Copyright©2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved
Friday, June 8, 2018
Sometimes music is my enemy
I was cleaning out an area of the living room where all our music CDs are stored. So I pulled out a bunch and placed them near my computer. I have a stereo system that stores and plays 51 CDs. I hadn't used the CD player for several years and the CDs were still in there. So, I figured out how to start the thing and began listening to the music. After the third one, I shut it off and went out to do an errand, glad to get out of the house for a bit.
So, now it's after lunch, I'm back at my computer and looking at a zippered CD holder full of the discs. Most of these discs are compilations that either I made or friends made many years ago (when I knew how to do that.) I start to play them, one at a time, and I'm swept back in time to happier memories and the tears start pouring down my face. It's as if a dam opened up and, unlike the little Dutch boy, I can't stop the flow.
I let the meltdown happen and I know more will follow because this is June and Warren's first Yahrzeit is coming up. Our home was always filled with music and listening to the music from these old CDs makes my mind play the memories like a long movie....... a love story. Only now, I feel pain and sadness mingled with them.
As a meme that came through to me today says: Time doesn't heal anything, it just teaches us how to live with the pain. Maybe I'm just a slow learner.
Copyright©2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved
So, now it's after lunch, I'm back at my computer and looking at a zippered CD holder full of the discs. Most of these discs are compilations that either I made or friends made many years ago (when I knew how to do that.) I start to play them, one at a time, and I'm swept back in time to happier memories and the tears start pouring down my face. It's as if a dam opened up and, unlike the little Dutch boy, I can't stop the flow.
I let the meltdown happen and I know more will follow because this is June and Warren's first Yahrzeit is coming up. Our home was always filled with music and listening to the music from these old CDs makes my mind play the memories like a long movie....... a love story. Only now, I feel pain and sadness mingled with them.
As a meme that came through to me today says: Time doesn't heal anything, it just teaches us how to live with the pain. Maybe I'm just a slow learner.
Copyright©2018. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved
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