Goodbye 2007

Well I can't say that we are looking forward to 2008, but since it's 12 minutes away there isn't much we can do about it. It seems so wrong to be moving the calender to a new year without Chris. It's not right, but it's how it's going to be. So we will move on, remembering Chris, and the way he fought his illness and lived his life.
I would also like to mention two other young men that will not see 2008. Sgt. Scott Kirkpatrick, who lost his life August 11th in Iraq. Scott's father in law is one of my best friends in the world. We served together in the early 80's and saw each other for the first time in 22 years this summer. Jay could not speak highly enough of his son-in-law, and what a fine man Scott was. His family like ours will be missing their son as we move into 2008.
The other young man is Maxx Wendell, who died December 6th. Maxx had a similiar type of Lymphoma to Chris. Like Chris he fought bravely and was an example to those that knew him and loved him. We will all miss our children going forward in 2008.
May it be a better year for all of us.
God Bless You
Rod

Dec 2, It's raiders day.

Tomorrow is 2 months since Chris died. Today is the Broncos raiders game version 2 for this year. The last game Chris and I watched together was the first Broncos raiders game this year. We were supposed to be at that game. That was going to be my "Your in remission and beating this damn thing" present for Chris. It wasn't meant to be. I'm not even excited about the game. I guess I haven't been that excited about football this year, or any thing else for that matter. I will be thinking of Chris during the game and how much we enjoyed giving each other a bad time about this rivalry.
I haven't been out caching since Thanksgiving, too cold, to crappy. I'm getting to lazy I guess. I need to get out and get 31 more caches by the end of the year to get to 1200. I've got two friends that have started caching this year, so I'm going to have to get up to Colorado next year and go caching with them.
One painting for the year. I need to post it one of these days. And then I need to do some more painting, get some of this stuff out and on canvas.
Hmmm, lets see if I can get more than 1 post for the month of December.

How did we get here

Six weeks and one day. I'm back at work, no accomplishing much, but I get an hour to drive to work everyday, and an hour to drive home to think about where we are at. On one hand I have friends at work that are there for me every day and talk to me, listen, let me cry when I need to. On the other hand there are people I don't here from at all. I don't know if they don't know what to say to me, or what to do. There isn't anything to say, there are no words. I wish there were. I know there isn't. One of the PO's in another office that I barely know called me and talked to me. He has also lost a son and knows what it's about. It sucks, and there is no other way to put it. But now I feel like the longer it goes the fewer people that are getting in touch of me. Fewer emails, fewer phone calls. There are some that I know are there for me and call and check in. Others that I thought would be there haven't made any contact since Chris died. I have no idea what that is about. We have found an online support group that is a huge help to us. I guess I'm just feeling bad, and don't know what to do with it. Blaming others isn't the way to go. But here we are dealing with life after Chris. That's the dividing line from now on. Chris, and after Chris. What a way to look at your life. We want it to be different, but it's not. So now we spend the rest of our lives learning to live with it.

2 weeks

Two weeks ago this evening our world was coming apart in front of our eyes. As we watched helpless to do anything to prevent or stop it, our son Chris passed away. About 2:30 or so he started having a hard time breathing, and by 6 we knew that he did not have much longer to be with us. We had his friends, and family with us, as well as two wonderful hospice nurses there, and all we could do was watch and hold his hand and try to comfort Chris in some small way. If you have never been with someone when they die it's a surreal thing to see. We knew it was happening, we knew we coudn't stop it, and I for one have never felt some hopeless in my life. It's so much harder when the person is your almost 19 year old son. As a parent I never expected to see my child die, and I know I never wanted to see it. But that was our lot. I have a million questions, why our son, why cancer, why anyones kid. A million questions and no answers. I don't expect to get the answers, but the questions remain. I think about Chris and the time he spent in the hospital when we couldn't be there and I am sad. I think about how scared he must have been when the doctors told him there was nothing they could do, and yet he was more concerned about the doctor and how hard it was for her to talk to patients about their lives coming to an end.
I will probably have to go back to work on Monday, and I know I'm not ready. The idea of having to talk to people, however well meaning they may be is not something I'm looking forward to. My boss is starting to put pressure on me to come back. I guess they figure two weeks of mourning for your son is enough. I think I will be mourning for the rest of my life. I don't ever see a day when the pain will not be so close to the surface that it will take almost nothing to make it break through the surface. A song, a sight, something someone says, the slightest thing and I know I will be falling apart. But I also know that after the fight Chris put up, if we don't go on with our lives we will be dishonering his memory, and he deserves better than that.
I would not wish this on anyone, not my worst enemy.

First post

It's Tuesday, a week since Chris's memorial, 13 days since he died. I've got comps now at school, but I'm going to take the entire quarter to do the first course section. There is no way that I can concentrate enough on anything to write any kind of comps questions that make sense. I talked to my advisor yesterday and she was very supportive and surprised that I was still working on school. I told her that to do anything else would dishonor Chris's memory. Chris's was a fighter and also understood how important getting my Ph.D. is to me. Through out his illness Chris wanted me to continue my school work. We sat in the hospital room many times when I was staying at the hospital with him and he would ask about my homework and what I was working on. He was an amazing young man and an inspiration to all of us that knew and loved him.