Tomorrow, January 27th, would have been Mark’s 50th birthday. We should be celebrating. Instead, I’ll be working all day, and then going to the theater. The boys will be going to school.
In short, I have no idea what to do with a day that is so laden with so much meaning.
Because tomorrow is also the fourth anniversary of Mark’s diagnosis. (He made the surgical team who performed the biopsy sing “Happy Birthday” in the O.R. before they knocked him out. That’s the man I love.)
The best that I can do, in these few minutes before I have to run and jump into my clothes and drive to work, is to encourage all of you who knew and loved Mark, and all of you who are important to my life and the boys’ lives, to do something tomorrow, January 27th, to make it count. Make something happen tomorrow to “mark” the day, something worthwhile to you, to a loved one – or maybe to a stranger.
AND THEN tell us about it. Either here, or on my Facebook page. Tell me how you made the 24-hour box of time known as January 27, 2014 count.
Even if it’s just
“I took the scenic route home from work instead of the freeway.”
“I ate a big honkin’ chocolate chip cookie [one of Mark’s great passions] and didn’t feel guilty for one second.”
Give the boys and me the gift of seeing that good can be born out of anything – even stupid, stinking, goddamned throat cancer. Even that.
Make it count – and report back. Best dead husband’s birthday present ever.
The picture above is Mark with his oncologist, Dr. Steve Perkins. As you can see, they kinda liked each other. Dr. Perkins, his nurses – especially Vicki (great name) and Hen – never stopped trying for a cure for Mark. I called Dr. Perkins soon after Mark died, to say thanks for working so hard to save him. Dr. Perkins said, so quietly “Yes. But it wasn’t enough.” And a grace that exists in me despite my best efforts to deny it reached out to comfort the doctor. I had nothing left – it had to be my husband’s spirit there with me, saying “Sometimes the disease wins. Sometimes, it just wins.” And Dr. Perkins said, again so quietly. “Yes. It does.”