brain cancer

I'm not good with words, and even if I was I can't identify what I'm feeling now-except for the gratitude. Gratitude that my husband and teenage children would come all this way with me and be in this awkward position of sharing our tragedy with the world when the three of them are such private people. I think they thought this this going bald fundraiser was all mine, but really it's ours. It's taken the combined effort of our little family, our extended family, our friends, our friends' friends, and strangers.  I am grateful that John and Ben and Abby came along with me to Boston. They've met a flood of people from various eras and experiences in my life. Those people have taken pictures of Ben and Abby and John, they've hugged and shook hands, and probably looked at them with sad eyes, and I know it's been overwhelming and uncomfortable.   And let's talk about those people who came to support us yesterday (or the folks who couldn't come but...

You've probably noticed that I don't write much anymore. It's not that I don't have plenty to say. It's just that most of what I need to write about is not mine to write about. The teens have big struggles and that's what's hurting the most right now. But they are teens, so I won't share their heartache with you. That's their job, if they choose to do it. Sure I have plenty of fall-out of my own, but much of that is already so well spoken about some of the other bereaved moms I know ( Phyllis Sommer and Libby Kranz to name a couple).  And then there's the mundane fall-out that most, if not all, cancer families suffer-Money. The result of my extended leave of absence from teaching is that the district has elected to release me. I was told I could reapply for my job. I certainly could have applied for employment with other districts. I chose not to. I don't have the energy to sell myself to anyone at the moment. I don't know if I ever wil...

I don't have a Mother's Day post, but John does. I always thought that Mother's Day, like Valentine's Day and Father's Day, is not a real holiday. I call them Hallmark Holidays. You know, holidays made up by companies that make money off of holidays. Don't get me wrong, I've always enjoyed the handmade cards and gifts that came from my children. I treasured their joy, their love. I no longer have a little one in elementary school making gifts and cards. Childhood is suddenly over. I get to think about that every day. I get to miss him every day. I get to question whether I did enough every day. John's thoughts- Mother�s Day.  It is so sad going through a Mother's Day without Sam.  I can honestly say that this is the first "going forward" milestone that has hit me.  I hadn't been feeling too bad about some of the others, even Sam's own birthday, but for some reason him not being here for Mother's Day is getting to me. I think one...

We had no plans for Passover. No one wants to do anything. My mother has always hosted the Seder and led the planning, and this year, as her voice broke, she told me she didn't want to do it. I offered to do something, anything, even just a nod to tradition, in our home. No takers. So I let it go (go ahead and sing. I am one of 4 people on the planet that has not seen this movie. We no longer have a child of the age that enjoys animated features). Passover 2012-Pre-Diagnosis We used to be the Friday night service type. On a regular basis Abby, Sam and I would attend shul. Sam sat with his friends in the front row, and Abby and I sat with my friends, the parents of Sam's friends, right behind them-within shushing and blessing distance. Three times a year we hosted oneg Shabbat after services in honor of our children's birthdays (Oneg Shabbat means joy of Shabbat so we brought snacks and treats because food = joy, right?). We always had cake, and it had to be from costco. Whe...

From John, March 31st, 2014: I�ve been feeling pretty good lately.  We had a wonderful memorial celebration for Sam at Happy Time pre-school, where �Sammy� the Samasourus (a new playground Dinosaur) was unveiled, and a lemon tree was planted in Sam�s memory and honor.  And the cutest little wooden bench, with a memorial plaque, was made by a Happy Time family�s grandfather.  And I didn�t even cry. Ben and I drove out to Sam�s grave recently, while we were in the area.  And neither of us cried. Abby and her friends made a really cool camo-cake and Crabby Patty cupcakes in honor of Sam�s upcoming birthday on April 2.  He would have been 9.  I loved the cake and the mini-celebration we had.  And I didn�t cry.  And yet today, sitting at my desk alone and working, it hit me.  Yes, again, like an iron shovel.  He is gone .  He is not coming back.  I cannot see him.  I cannot touch him.  I cannot hug him or hold his little w...

There are days when I can't budge. I am angry and cranky and the tears come and come until my head hurts, and then they come some more. I weep and I rage and it's not fair to my family. They take the brunt of my outbursts. Then there are days when I want to do something. Anything. I don't care what it is. I just want progress. I will share the fundraiser for the family of the newly diagnosed child because I know what it's like to be there. To be scared. To be full of hope. I will promote the collection of shoes that are sold to raise money for childhood cancer research. Blood drive? Sure. I'll help with that.I'll give blood. I'll pass out juice to the donors. I will buy cookies at the bake sale for childhood cancer research on the folding table down the street put on by the little girls who went to school with my son and miss him on Valentine's day. I do too. I'll shave my head. I'll do anything. I am pulled in a million directions and I wonder i...

I should write something. No, not because I think you expect me to. Because I want to. Several times a day I have thought-about Sam, about cancer, about siblings, about grief-and I think, "I should write that down." Writing helps me to process my thoughts and emotions, and I want to share this with you. I don't want to hold anything back. I want you to know how crappy it is live without Sam. I also want to remember. I want you to remember. If we stop thinking, talking, writing about him, then was he ever really here? It's been almost 2 weeks since I put my thoughts on paper-that's how I used to explain writing to my students. Whether they were in 1st grade or 6th grade, they were always afraid to write. "Don't stress out. It's just thoughts on paper," I would tell them. There's always time later to go back, reread, fix, adjust, perfect. "Just get your ideas out before you forget them." Here's one idea spinning in my head today-f...