Great post ... it took a while before I stopped trying to make a phone call to my best friend. I had to take the number out of speed dial.

Sent by Pat Z. | 7:07 AM ET | 09-17-2008

{{Laurie}} Although you may be eating ice cream alone, you're certainly right you aren't alone in going through losing the love of your life to cancer. And thanks to this blog, your posts are helping many other people going through that loss --it's so obvious from the comments to what you post. I hope that brings you some small measure of comfort.

Sent by N.R. | 7:08 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I still have the urge to pick up the phone and give my Mom a call. Its been 2 1/2 years. I wish you well Laurie and know that time does ease the pain.

Sent by Rose Rabine | 7:16 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Still lifting you, Laurie. The grief is palpable. You are an amazing woman!

Sending you hugs and love,

Sent by Laura | 7:53 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I can relate to your feelings and loneliness and missing that special person. I can't replace my dad. I would love the have dinner with my dad right now, today. Whether spouse, parent, sibling IT HURTS! Whether cancer, natural causes or otherwise IT HURTS! I know I hurt in April and just don't understand why it seems to hurt more now. I guess it is the unpredictability of the situation of being here when the other person has gone.

Laurie, Graham, and Liz... thank you so much....

1-2-3 Lifting to the best of my ability.

Sent by Sue Chap | 7:56 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie,
Thank you for sharing that.... You are not alone here.
Here, we walk with you and we lift each other. Here, like your family and friends, we will love you.
Much love, hugs and continued prayers!

Sent by Laurie Hirth | 7:57 AM ET | 09-17-2008

It has been a month already??? I think it seems like less time has passed because you are keeping Leroy's memory alive for all of us. Through your postings we are learning even more about Leroy. Thanks for sharing.

Sent by Jan | 8:29 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Dear Laurie........still lifting......sending you love and heartfelt prayers.

Sent by sasha | 8:31 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I understand how Laurie feels. For weeks after my husband lost is battle with colon cancer, I expected to come home and find him in his chair watching Law and Order.
A year has passed and for me what is most difficult is coming to terms with the fact that someone who was once so alive, even during his illness is no longer.

Sent by BJ Hunt | 8:33 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie, I am sorry that you are having to go through this. It has now been 4 months for me and I still feel the same. I can not seem to look beyond the day that I am in. There is a big void. A very big miss. I try to keep as busy as I can. I work very long hours but at the end of the day there is still that miss. As many have posted before they are thankful that their loved one is no longer suffering and I too am very great full for that. But darn, it has been hard to let him go.

Laurie, I will continue to keep you in my prayers, and all those that are going through the same thing right now. I know we will get through it somehow. I believe we will be given the strength we need to keep going.

Thank you Laurie. Lifting!!

Sent by dorothy from Oregon | 8:41 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I understand the comment about a month already. Its been six months for me. Sometimes it feels like years already that I've spend without him but I still look at every green Dodge truck I see (you'd be surprised at how many there are) and feel abandoned all over again when I see he is not behind the wheel.
Your sister in sorrow

Sent by Lisa Y | 8:48 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I hope your sharing with us helps you. It certainly helps us. Lots of hugs for you.

Sent by Karen | 9:07 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I have no words.... only cyber

{{{hugs}}}

On another note... I finally found time and courage to listen to the entire tribute and celebration of Leroy's life... thank you so much for sharing with us all....................

Sent by Ron Bye (NH) | 9:08 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I get the feeling that grief gets a second wind after "what has to be done" gets done and all the busy-ness is past. Still lifting....

Sent by Robin L. Fairfax VA | 9:16 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Dear Laurie, Yes, just like Leroy, you belong to a club you never wanted to join. That's the saddest truth of all about this disease and the pain it inflicts on everyone close to it, there are sooooo many going through it. Tremendous pain and suffering magnified by thousands. Thank goodness for the kindness of people like Leroy, and you, and his amazing doctors and nurses, and good hearted neighbors and friends. There are so many good people who help us all get through it and find things to appreciate every single day. Thanks to people like those at NPR who host this site and the people who come here every day, there is always light and beauty to focus on.

Sent by Nichole in FL | 9:27 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I thought to myself what keeps me keep coming back to read this blogg - I read it cos Leroy has colorectal cancer and knew it might be a road I might go down one day, so thought I might glean some inspiration from his words - which I did many times.

Then it clicked .. I keep reading Laurie's words cos if the worst happened to me, life does go on and my loved ones for the hurt will be there, time will heal and I know eventually they will be fine.

Sent by Jill Curtis | 9:28 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Dear Laurie/All,
This is my second post..........I'm sorry for being redundant (I have posted a comment like this a few weeks ago) but I think
I am starting to wish I was in the "Missing Stage"...........the man I live with is no longer my husband.........just an empty shell........suffering a little more each day.............We cannot communicate anymore.........His personality has changed drasticaly.......I don't even know who he is anymore............Again, hate to repeat, but I don't know which is worse
BEFORE CANCER.......OR AFTER ! THEY BOTH SUCK ! Sorry for the ranting.......

Sent by sasha | 9:28 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Dad liked chocolate almond or peppermint stick, Mom liked fresh peach or vanilla, Bro liked Spumoni... 1 2 3 lifting ice cream spoons together in memory of those wonderful after dinner creamy sugary times... with prayers for peace and comfort to you Laurie...

Sent by Stitches | 9:29 AM ET | 09-17-2008

My Armond is gone a month today. I still have my moments of disbelief. Is this the way it's going to be forever? We were together for forty years. I'm glad you're keeping up the blog because as Leroy educated so many about cancer, you are helping people understand what it's really like to lose a loved one to this disease. Thank you, Laurie.

Sent by Sara in California | 9:30 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie, I hope you keep this blog going for a while, as it is. As much as Leroy has done for the cancer patient, you are doing for us survivors. Leroy let us all know as "lifegivers" what it was like, how it felt to be in the shoes of a cancer patient. In the world of cancer where everything gets wrapped up in each moment of each treatment, to have these perspectives of how the other half "lives" gives everyone here who is new and old to the blog something to think about. I don't know if you watch the TV show House, but it had a good quote, Almost dying changes nothing, dying changes everything. I think when dealing with Cancer, time slows down, we suspend belief, hold on to good moments longer. but like a pro athlete, the speed of the game (life) can take some time to get used to again, moves too fast for us because of focusing on 1 thing instead of the many around us. wish you well as always.

Sent by paul | 9:32 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Oh Laurie,
My heart aches for you! Your writing is so beautiful that I can physically feel your sadness when I read your posts. My husband has always been an ice cream lover but the chemo has destroyed his taste for it so eventhough he's still with me, I no longer have an ice cream buddy. I cannot believe it has been a month since Leroy left us but you are doing such a wonderful job of keeping him in everyone's hearts it feels like he is still here. I know you can't feel that way as much as we do because you miss the the physical presence so much. For anyone who has lost a loved one I think their worst fear is they will be forgotten. The one's we truly love are never forgotten are they? Peace be with you Laurie,and Sue and Laurie and the many others here.

Sent by Kathie | 9:34 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie, it is 2 months today that my husband lost his 4 1/2 year battle with colon cancer. The pain of missing him can be so overwhelming, and I feel like I've lost my purpose not being a care taker any longer. A simple task of going to the market has become so difficult for me because I can no longer buy his favorite items. When our lives are so intertwined, learning to function as one seems to be an unimaginable challenge.
Sharing your thoughts Laurie, is so helpful and generous. Leroy would be so proud of you!
Thank You.........

Sent by Pam in Los Angeles

Sent by Pam Lever | 9:35 AM ET | 09-17-2008

You're not alone Laurie. I just talked with Mom. Dad died two weeks before Leroy. She said that Dad had planned to take the ATV back in the fields to the persimon trees this month. He was so proud of his new ATV that he got earlier this year. We all wished, including him, he had gotten it years before, because he liked having it so much there on the farm. But the predator had already growled and was closing in on its prey--my precious Dad. Mom says she would like to see and talk with Dad in her dreams. I would like that too.
Sending love to you today Laurie...Linda

Sent by Linda Lee | 9:41 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie,
I can't believe it has been a month either....reading Leroys' thoughts helped me make it through the day. He was so lucky to have you and I know it is hard, praying you keep the good memories close to your heart.
I am still in the battle with my daughters watching them worry about me, reading your thoughts makes want to hold them closer, hoping to lesson the pain when my journey ends.

Sent by Miriam | 9:50 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie, you, like Leroy, write the truth in such a way that I feel it to the bottom of my soul..

I am so sorry you are missing him so much.. And no, it sure doesn't seem like a month.. Since you are still here, it is ALMOST like he is, too.. And then I remember...

1 2 3 LIFT
FROG

Sent by Patsy Elmore from Knoxville, TN | 9:51 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie,

So sorry. I miss Leroy too, but I know there's no comparison. My prayers for comfort and healing for everyone.

Sent by Connie (Bungert) | 10:00 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Good Morning all. I still spend too many hours in waiting rooms reading any magazine handy to distract my thoughts...and I keep finding Bread Pudding recipes. My brother discovered cooking for fun late in his life and was still searching for the perfect Bread Pudding recipe when he died 18 months ago. And for just a split second, I still feel excited when I find a new version and then realize I can't email it to him any longer.

Sent by glenda | 10:04 AM ET | 09-17-2008

As hard as it is, this is all very normal, Laurie. It's part of grieving.

The day my mom died 2-1/2 years ago, she called me that morning and said, "I'm not feeling so well. Can you come?" She sounded so scared. She lived 4 hours away and NEVER said things like that. I knew I had to go. I told her that I'd take care of some things here and be on my way by the afternoon. That afternoon, my brother called and said, "Mom passed away this afternoon." I still hear her words ...I'm not feeling so well, can you come?...I'm not feeling so well, can you come? I often get the urge to call her and realize, oh yeah, she's not there anymore. I often feel the need to ask her advice. Then I realize, oh yeah, she's not there. What is there, though, is her memory and her spirit. That lives on in me every minute of every day. I try to remember that as much as I can. I also try to talk about how much I miss her. That seems to help, too.

Sent by Linnea | 10:05 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Wow.... on one hand it seems so long ago, but then again, just mere moments since Leroy left us. Your post brought tears to my eyes this morning. Still lifting!

Sent by roni | 10:08 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Dear Laurie,

I was thinking this morning that, after all the people - and love - surrounding you at the wonderful tribute to Leroy, the reality of his loss would begin to sink in more deeply. I also thought, as I listened to the many comments - yours and others - about "making the most of every day - LIVING!" that it is not always possible to do that when one is deep in grief or depression! And that can add a burden of guilt on top of the grief. So...may I remind you (and others here)-- alas -- some days the beast still wins! On those, we don't have to keep it all together. I have a feeling that, sometimes, even Leroy would say,"Hey, babe---you can take the day off."
Hooray for the days the good memories carry! But it's OK to be gentle with yourself on the others.

Yes...we're still missing Leroy too...and still lifting! Take care!

Sent by Peg | 10:09 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Dear Laurie,
My husband died of cancer in 1982. He was 48. I recall, vividly, the time(I don't rmember how long after his death)that I smiled at the sunny day...and then realized that I had, indeed, smiled. It was a first. You, too, will someday have a similar first...just don't be in a hurry.
Love to you-

Sent by Carol McKenzie | 10:12 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I can certainly feel your longing for Leroy and wish there was a way to make it better for you and all the others missing a loved one.

I do think it is important to remember there are lots of people going through a similar loss and you are certainly not alone. If only there was an easy way to get them all together to share ice cream with.

Still lifting...and totally amazed by what a wonderful woman you are Laurie.

Sent by Alexis Redmond | 10:19 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Hi Laurie,

I hope your day goes good for you.
Try to find a grieving class, or a really good friend to help you through this part. It is tough, and they say it gets easier with time. I don't know about that, because it still hurts like hell.
Be good to yourself above all, you deserve it.
I love reading your blog, and I look forward to tomorrow.

Sent by Donato S. | 10:24 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie, I don't know what to say except that the pain is there and will be there, but slowly the pain will lessen. Perhaps it's good that it never goes away. I don't know. Susan

Sent by Susan in the beautiful mountains of Colorado | 10:24 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie - My husband and I ate a bowl of ice cream every night while in bed watching TV. Last night I had our favorite - Moose Tracks!! I don't have it in bed anymore - but I still have it.

Sent by Deb from Michigan | 10:26 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Dear Laurie,
As a person with incurable cancer, I can say how much Leroy inspired me and helped me retain my fighting attitude. I am forever grateful for that.

I feel that you've also found your voice and mission. I can't imagine how tough it is to write every day, but I want you to know that it helps me think about what happens to my family in a more positive way. I know it will be rough, but now I have confidence that my wife will be able to get through that phase and move on. My plan is to have a collection of your blogs ready to inspire her, the way Leroy did me. While it's premature to say that you've worked through the grieving process, but I hear your strength growing every day and know you will get there one day. Please continue to be a part of our family.

Sent by Shaun | 10:36 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie,
As always, your posts always resonate with me. As I'm sure they do with many who have recently lost a loved one to Cancer. It has been only 4 weeks for me as well since my beloved passed...and it feels like a lifetime.

But remember, you are never alone. None of us are. Unfortunately there are way too many of us recovering from the loss of someone dear to them. But we're all doing it. Getting up every day. Breathing. Getting through the day. It's not much yet, but it's enough. And take comfort that we're all out there, thinking of one another and pulling ourselves through another day.

Sent by Skye Fisher-Hewett | 10:43 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie - here's hoping that those split-seconds stretch into longer moments, as you fill in the 'whole'.

Thank you for being here and reflecting.

Aloha

Sent by Joan S. | 10:59 AM ET | 09-17-2008

My cousin sent each of my siblings and I a CD this week, in celebration of what would have been our father's 80th birthday. It took me two days to find the strength to play the selection that she had found so moving.
"No matter how hard I try
No matter how many tears I cry
No matter how many years go by
I still can't say good-bye."

Yes, that about sums it up: we still can't say good-bye to those who have provided so much love, support, and inspiration. Even in the pain, they keep on living through us.

1 2 3 still lifting.

Sent by Kay from PA | 11:06 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Please talk about him, even though he is gone. It is more comforting to cry than to pretend that he never existed. I need to talk about him, and I need to do it over and over.

Be patient with my agitation. Nothing feels secure in my world. Get comfortable with my crying. Sadness hits me in waves, and I never know when my tears may flow. Just sit with me in silence and hold my hand.

When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost and alone. I feel badly enough that he is dead, so please don't make it worse by telling me I'm not doing this right.

I am not strong. I'm just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feel that you don't see me.

Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good. Ask me how I feel only if you really have time to find out.

I don't even understand what you mean when you say, "You've got to get on with your life." My life is going on. I've been forced to take on many new responsibilities and roles. It may not look the way you think it should. This will take time and I will never be my old self again. So please, just love me as I am today, and know that with your love and support, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forget and there will always be times that I cry.

I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I'm not sick. I'm grieving, and that's different. My grieving may only begin 2 months after his death. Don't think that I will be over it in a year. For I am not only grieving his death, but also the person I was when I was with him, the life that we shared, the plans we had , the places we will never get to go together, and the hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled and I will never be the same.

I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget him and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and love into the rest of my life. He is a part of me and always will be, and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear. Both are okay.

I don't have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it has happened and it is real, but there are some things in life that are just not acceptable.

Please don't say, "Call me if you need anything." I'll never call you because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could do for me takes more energy than I have.

Understand how difficult it is for me to be surrounded by couples, to walk into events alone, to go home alone, to feel out of place in the same situations where I used to feel so comfortable.

Please don't judge me now - or think that I'm behaving strangely. Remember I'm grieving. I am in shock. I am afraid. I feel deep rage. I feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I'm experiencing a pain unlike any I've ever felt before and one that can't be imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.

Don't worry if you think I'm getting better and then suddenly I seem to slip backward. Grief makes me behave this way at times. And please don't tell me you know how I feel, or that it's time for me to get on with my life. What I need now is time to grieve.

Most of all thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping, for understanding. Thank you for praying for me.

And remember in the days or years ahead, after your loss - when you need me as I have needed you - I will understand. And then I will come and be

Author unknown
This is exactly how 'we' feel!
Lifting........

Sent by Joanie, Front Royal, Va | 11:09 AM ET | 09-17-2008

i still have a hard time watching the food network. we watched a lot of that during our parents' last days.

Sent by mary | 11:28 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Dear Laurie,

In reading your post today,I am once again struck by how you bring others in and offer them your consideration. And in reading other's responsive posts today, you are bringing their grief bubbling out to the light. There are so many, like yourself, who are in the rawest, early stages of sorrow and survival; and then there are those who have felt the stab(s) of grief from many years ago. These veterans almost always offer the sage wisdom that the sorrow never goes away but it does become less ravaging and ... bonus! that you will feel happiness again one day ~ I will offer my voice amongst those to share that same encouragement. Take heart, Laurie and those of you who are suffering such great loss so recently -- Take heart, and take love, and hold onto those beautiful, special memories. When the time is right, the sun will shine (a little differently) for you. For now, though, I remember ice cream was one of Leroy's pleasures, so you go girl, and eat a bowl for Leroy ~

Love,

Sent by Kim Forester | 11:28 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Everytime we lose someone close it leaves a hole in our heart. At this point I am sure that mine looks like swiss cheese.

Sent by Marilyn Trujillo | 11:34 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Hang in there, Laurie!

Sent by Heather | 11:46 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I KNOW EXACTLY HOW YOU FEEL. WHEN MY 20 YEARS OLD LEFT ME HERE ALONE AFTER FIGHTING CANCER FOR FIVE YEARS IT HAS BEEN TERRIBLE. I WANT TO HEAR HER CAR DRIVE UP OR HER FOOT STEPS COME IN SO I CAN LOVE HER, BUT IT IS EMPTY. IT HAS BEEN 10 MONTHS AND HAS ONLY GOTTEN WORSE FOR ME. PEOPLE STILL SAY I AM SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS, I DID NOT LOSE ASHTON SHE IS IN HEAVEN, I KNOW WHERE SHE IS BUT IT STILL HURTS. I THINK OF ALL THE THINGS I WISH I HAD DONE. I WISH I HAD A CAMCORDER FOR HER TO TALK TO US WHEN EARLIER SHE FELT GOOD. I NEVER TALKED TO HER ABOUT DEATH, HEAVEN. I KNOW SHE WAS A WONDERFUL YOUNG CHRISTIAN GIRL, BUT WHY DID I NOT TALK TO HER. I THINK OF HER SOME DAYS SEEMS LIKE ALL DAY, OTHERS JUST EARLY OR LATE IN THE DAY, SINCE I AM STILL WORKING. BUT, I WANT TO TELL YOU IT IS WONDERFUL FOR YOU TO CONTINUE WRITING. SO MANY PEOPLE DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT. MAY GOD BLESS YOU AND PLEASE CONTINUE WRITING.

Sent by MAVIS | 11:49 AM ET | 09-17-2008

I remember the same thing after my husband died. It gets better, it really does. There are a lot of "firsts" for a long time (at least a year of them) and then, you'll be eating ice cream in a crowd. (or alone if you prefer.) :-)

Sent by Janell | 11:55 AM ET | 09-17-2008

Each of the "anniversaries" is hard to bear.

I always read the blog at work, but I was off 15 August. It was my birthday and I decided to take the day for myself. I didn't learn of Leroy's passing until I came to work Monday. I just couldn't stop crying at the loss of such a wonderful person. Then it hit me that he had passed away on my birthday. My husband had died on 14 August 1977, one day before my birthday. Since then, my birthday has always been a time of sadness and celebration. He died 11 days before our daughter's second birthday, so the whole month of August is bittersweet.

It's been 31 years since he died, and I sure wish I could have had this blog back then. It is so important to me now because it brings back all of it...the joy and the unbearable sorrow, and the hope that I could say something that would help in some small way. I think I am benefitting from the blog because everyday I find that someone puts into words what I felt at the time, but I just could not find a way to say it.

I have always hated the expression that "life goes on". It seems so glib and dismissive of all that has been lost. But it's true...each day passes, and you slowly recover. What I have learned is that you must do it in your own way and at your own pace.

Sent by Sandra Mann | 12:00 PM ET | 09-17-2008

You shouldn't have to go through this at such a young age.

Sent by Lisa | 12:00 PM ET | 09-17-2008

My husband died over 10 years ago at age 46. Those early weeks and months were filled with shock/disbelief, tremendous sadness & exhaustion and a physical hurt beyond description. When I was waking up in the morning, in those moments just before consciousness, I would "feel" like everything was the same. But then, almost instantly, with such dread and sadness, facing the true reality of the loss of my husband, it would still seem like a very bad dream. Not sure if that makes any sense. It takes a long time for your brain and heart to process the permanency of death, even when you are somewhat "prepared" for your loved one's passing. I slept with his old, ratty sweatshirt that he wore constantly and bought myself the most billowy, soft and warm comforter----to comfort and cocoon myself in.

As someone wrote, your grief is indeed personal, Laurie, but it is palpable to all of us who care about you. You and Leroy are in my daily thoughts. Hugs, Nancy from Waukesha WI

Sent by Nancy B | 12:15 PM ET | 09-17-2008

I think LeAnn Rimes said it best, "How do I live without you?"

Youtube has some great views of this song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xr4kbVNB5rk
...it's one day at a time
-- Roger

Sent by Roger Freberg | 12:33 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie, You made me cry at my desk! Alarming how quickly the first bit of time goes, you are so busy arranging things. Those quite moments are the worst, the most emotional, the most draining. It will get better, but it never goes away. You did a teriffic job with this post. Thoughts, Stan

Sent by Stan Wozniak | 12:42 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Dear Laurie,
I so enjoyed hearing Leroy's family and friends talk about the good life he had and what a wonderful friend he was to so many people.
It has been years since my grandfather died but I still remember that for a long long time I alwsys looked to see if he was sitting on the porch when I drove by his house.
Take good care of yourself and thanks for sharing your life with us.
Charlotte in Rural Ridge, PA

Sent by Charlotte Kewish | 12:43 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Dear Laurie,
Also sending you cyber-hugs! It's sort of like driving a car in bad weather. You have to shift into the lowest gear possible to just keep those wheels moving. I only hope we can continue to be there for you during this tough time.

Betsey

Sent by betsey in albany ny | 1:00 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Sasha,
My heart just aches for you. I wish I could say something that could take away your pain....just know that here, you are not alone. We are lifting you, keeping you and your loved one in our prayers. Sending cyber hugs your way and wishing you comfort in the days ahead.

Joanie, that was beautifully said!

Sent by Laurie Hirth | 1:22 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Good Morning Laurie,
Your entry was interesting this morning. But I don't think your alone at all, oh the grieving and pain is still there, but Leroy's up there watching you. He is still with you....in YOUR HEART!

Page - Oregon

Sent by Page Hendryx | 1:46 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Sasha - hang in there. I wish there was a way for me to help you or call you. Please know that my thoughts are with you and you are feeling normal thoughts. I was in your shoes - pull your strength from where ever you can!!!

Sent by Deb from Michigan | 1:55 PM ET | 09-17-2008

sweet Laurie,

I can't lurk any longer, just have to say a profound thank you to you for keeping us with you through this next chapter of your journey with Leroy. It is obvious that powerful love surrounds this place here you and Leroy have created. I am honored to share it. Trust me, you do not eat ice cream alone. ever. (insert wry grin here please).

reflecting your Love,
Ann
Blacksburg, VA

Sent by Ann Van Tassell | 1:56 PM ET | 09-17-2008

It seems unbelievable that it has been a month. I finally listened to the full memorial service for Leroy and it was wonderful to hear the stories. He will live through those who remember him. I loved the one about him and his backpacking friend in Yugoslavia - Leroy eyeing the Soviet subs and saying, "I think we can get closer". He went into life full speed ahead! Leroy is one of those who definitely left the world a better place for his having been in it.
My heart goes out to you -
Marcia

Sent by Marcia | 2:09 PM ET | 09-17-2008

I'm one of those women, Laurie. It's been 5 months. I still don't watch the TV shows we used to watch, with or without ice cream. No can do.

Sent by Teri | 2:56 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie, Just wanted to let you know that I think of you every day, and go right to the blog to find out how you're doing. I wish I lived next door to you, so you could just come on over whenever you needed to. I am lifting you every day, along with all the other cyber friends of yours and Leroy's. We feel him with us still. May you have times of peace and comfort today. Sending hugs, Karen

Sent by Karen Hine | 3:00 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie - Your blogs, always succinct, speak volumes to the heart. You speak so wonderfully to those of us who were caregivers, then the ones left behind. Maybe I'm being selfish, but please continue this blog, it's so important!
Sasha - My heart goes out to you, you have no idea. The last day my husband was conscious, he told me he was this close to leaving me because I hadn't come to see him in a week (I was at the hospital that morning; this was the afternoon). Logically, I knew it was the meds and the brain mets, but it hurt me so much. You're right, he is not the same person - fear and anger and medication have robbed him of who he is. It's so hard, and I can't believe I'm saying this, because I can't even do it, but try to realize that cancer has changed him.
Pam: first time I went to the grocery store I had to avert my eyes from the pudding aisle, which was basically all Joe would eat. I thought I would have a breakdown in aisle 9, and I raced through like one of those contestants that have 5 minutes to get $500 of groceries. I'm sure people thought I was nuts, as I was also talking to myself!
Joanie: that beautiful poem was unbelievably on the mark. It's a comfort to know that I'm not crazy, that, like Laurie said, many others have and will travel this journey. There's been a few (maybe a thousand) times when I've said to myself "I just can't do this." Then I do it.
I pray for a measure of peace to all of us, Marsha

Sent by marsha bacenko | 3:04 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Dear Sasha,

My heart aches for you. At times quicker is better then to watch what is happening. I am sorry for your pain, truly sorry.

Sent by Sue Chap | 3:14 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Joanie, you nailed it perfectly.

Sent by Bruce | 3:31 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Dad died a year and a half ago. I am lucky that at 28 I live down the street from my mother and can be there for her when she needs me. It hurts, though, to know she has these moments, and even as her daughter I cannnot help. I cannot fill that void.

I still sometimes reach for my phone to call Dad and tell him about something great that happened at work, or that I got a teacher of the month award at the high school where I teach... And then the moment of excitement fades, reality sets in, and I have to remind myself how proud he was in the living time.

You can't know how wonderful it is to be able to read your posts. It makes me feel like I have an inside look into what my mom has been feeling and going through the last year and a half. Your insights are so valuable, and your love for Leroy is inspiring.

~Heather in AZ

Sent by Heather | 4:24 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie, if you ever wonder whether you should continue this blog, the responses you've gotten this past month should answer that question. First, we are all concerned about you and how you are doing and then concerned about being the survivor and grieving in general. Your postings have hit a nerve and are serving as a catalyst for so many to talk about their grieving. After all, for each of us who is lost there are others left behind who need healing of their own.
I am moved every day by the true caring and compassion that we are showing to each other as experience is shared in order to comfort and give encouragement to another suffering soul.
Bless your hearts, all of you.

Sent by Gene Koeneman | 4:49 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Hi Laurie,
You do not know me but I can across your blog while I was doing a random search for "Inspiration when feeling blue" I was amazed to discover that it was cancer related. My husband was diagnosed with colon cancer 3 years ago and we went through the surgery and chemo and 6mnths of clean checkups only to be hit with the news that the cancer had spread to his lungs and he was diagnosed terminal. This was a year ago Last February and at the time they gave him 6-8 mnths without treatments and 10-12 with. After the first round of Chemo ( is made him so sick) he decided that if he only had a bit of time left that he wanted to feel good and stopped taking treatments. 18 Mnths has gone by and we are still fight every day together. The cancer has now moved to his liver and we both know that it is a battle we are not going to win.....having said that we have not lost either....I have learned that life is not about weathering the storm but learning how to dance in the rain. Good luck to you my friend and may God be with you.

Sent by Shannon Shepherd | 5:53 PM ET | 09-17-2008

To all.........thank you for your comments.........it brings me solace......

Sent by sasha | 5:54 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie, I'm walking beside you, my husband has been gone 2 months yesterday. It's getting harder, but this blog is helping to hold me up. Joanie, thank you for sharing the poem, my feelings & thoughts exactly.

Sent by Mary Ann S | 6:25 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie, thank you for continuing this blog when I read it can hear you both talking. I am a cancer survivor and my husband was just diagnosed this week, we still have each other but know this can change so quickly. Prayers with you as you grief continues, life is never the same but it will change so there will be better times.

Sent by Marian | 6:36 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Joanie, from Ft. Royal Virginia, your "author unknown" is a KNOWING person, even if unknown!!!! thank you, even ten years out the words tell it like it is! And to Sasha, we are with you all the way. God bless those with the Beast, which ever way it has affected you.

Sent by Lucy Groh from Alaska | 8:38 PM ET | 09-17-2008

I think I will go have a bowl of ice cream right now, in memory of Leroy. You are not alone, Laurie - we are all out here, eating ice cream with you. Sasha, I hope that you can feel the support for you out here as well. I will keep you and your husband in my thoughts and prayers, and hope that tomorrow is at least a little better.

Sent by Gretchen Hoag | 11:25 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Laurie -- Know that you are NOT alone eating ice cream -- we have a worldwide ice cream social going on. The sad part is the thing that connects us all, but know that you're never alone. And even in writing that, I know that it doesn't help much. That one month realization has hit me every month for the past 2 1/2 years, and it STILL catches me off guard how long it's been, and I'm still not willing to digest it. And then when I least expect it, I'll cry with laughter or sorrow or longing because an unexpected song or the look on someone's face or someone with the same build as my father is walking through the grocery -- and it could have been him. What keeps me together is the knowledge that those moments are a testament to the person I loved, and that the power of that love can be so poignant. I only hope that one day I have people who think of me with the same amount of respect, love and admiration that my dad earned from those he knew in his life. And in Leroy's case, think about how many people that really is -- and you're still touching more and more every day, Laurie. Know that your continuing this blog keeps his spirit -- and ALL of our cancer warriors -- alive. Because the ice cream social grows every day -- but this forum gives us a way to connect with them. And then none of us is eating ice cream alone. Hang in there...and know we're with you...

Sent by Tammy Reasoner, Cincinnati, OH | 11:30 PM ET | 09-17-2008

Someone I hadn't seen in 6 months saw me today and said how are you doing, It's been a year this week, is it getting easier?...I answered No it's not, I miss him just as much if not more, I'm not as raw as I was in the beginning, and I have learned new coping skills, however the nights are still long, the bed is still too big and empty, eating and cooking for one takes thought,and the silence is deaffening.
This journey also is a time when you can feel at loose ends, like there is no longer a purpose. For many of us as caregivers when our loved one dies we are at a loss not only for them being gone but a loss about what we are to do with our life now. We have devoted 24/7 to the world of cancer for months and years and now we are faced with ourselves. We have put "us" and taking care of ourselves medically, spiritually and physically on hold for so long it is unfamiliar territory to think of our needs again.
VA Joanie the author was a person familiar with personal grief and so accurate. Thank you for sharing that with us. It reminds us that we are OK where we are at the moment and helps friends and family to hopefully understand us better.
Blessings and love to you Laurie...

Sent by raven | 11:39 PM ET | 09-17-2008

It's been a few months since my father passed away and my mother still turns to his chair to talk to him before she catches herself.

Sent by Ann | 12:23 AM ET | 09-18-2008

So do I.
Jane

Sent by Jane in AR | 6:59 AM ET | 09-18-2008

Laurie, there is nothing tougher than losing someone you love, especially someone as close as a loving spouse or companion.

It take a long while to even believe that it's true. Much longer to accept that truth.

You are in rough seas, Laurie, but you will make it safely to port one day. The pain will lessen but you will never forget nor stop missing Leroy.

Sent by Marilyn | 7:40 AM ET | 09-18-2008

It is so odd and touching that we cancer patients just know that if this idiotic, horrible cancer would just vanish, we would have a normal life like other folks.

It's the only fly in the ointment. One little thing in the big picture of life.

Yet, it just won't go away.

I just want to urge it away, but so do (and did) others, like Leroy.

My life is going so well in every other area.

Just one darn little problem...

Sent by Scott S. | 3:03 PM ET | 09-18-2008

Laurie - I've been lurking on this blog since last summer when my husband was diagnosed with terminal melanoma. He read Leroy's comments until he was unable to deal with the computer, and I have read comments weekly since he died in Dec 07. The service seemed very special.

Your comments today really struck a chord - the image of having ice cream alone, of waking up and realizing you are alone (or not sleeping in the first place), it does make us realize how many have lost their partners - there are so many of us. My heart goes out to you as you learn to live again, remembering Leroy in everything you do. Best wishes. Thanks for keeping up the blog! Marty

Sent by Marty PV | 12:43 AM ET | 09-20-2008