It’s 4:00 in the morning. Your Dad sleeps close by, breathing unevenly and slightly agitated. He has awakened me by stomping on the floor at 1:30—he needed help. I haven’t been able to go back to sleep.

My mind races as to what comes next. The cancer has ravaged his body. Unless God intervenes our time together will be short. I hurt, oh I hurt. I cry when no one watches. When people watch, I am brave. In one moment I feel strong and courageous. Yes, I can do this. Make decisions, take care of our home and cars, go to work, meet people and smile, smile, smile! Most of all I can love you, our children—enough for both of us. In the next moment (when my faith lags a tiny bit) I am vulnerable and frightened. Only when we individually go through the devastation of losing our partner, do we understand the pain.

At this moment, I am feeling guilty for living. I am in good health, carry on daily activities with ease. Because it is obvious I will shortly need to make decisions on my own I try to look to my future. A main concern for me is I don’t want to be a burden to you, my dear sons. How can I prevent this? And, my mind races some more. I feel guilty for thinking about what lies ahead for me. Shouldn’t I be concerned about only today? While your father is still with us? If I think about MY future, am I being unfaithful to my husband of over 51 years?

Now this thought has occurred to me, early in the morning: YOU are losing your father. The only Dad you will ever have. You will never forget him and the memories you share with him will not die, but live on in your hearts. I pray that his life will guide you to a greater understanding of yourself, and God. His struggles and successes belong to all of us. This weekend we have been together, just the four of us. Like old times, you said. My dear sons, nothing is more important to your Dad and me, than YOU. Your families. Dad wrote this on his tablet the other day when I asked if I should stay with him, instead of going to run an errand: LIVE! Go live!

My emotional state is solid as a rock (except when it isn’t)……and I embrace every tear as I mourn for your loss. Mike & Dave….I love you with every breathe I take.