New Year, Week Two

Two years ago

On December 1, David began a round of decitabine chemotherapy. He had an infusion daily for five days, then a month off to let his blood counts recover.
Then, on January 2, David began a second round. He had some nausea and fatigue, but his red blood cell and platelet counts remained relatively stable. After the five days of infusion, he took three weeks off while his blood counts recovered.

New Year, Week Two

Friday afternoon, my therapist asked me for clarification: does the grief feel like an attack?
Yes, I feel ambushed. But what if I called them 'David moments', like Jim does? Grief hurts, but perhaps I can experience it differently.

Monday, I went to The Compassionate Friends meeting in Concord. Each person there has lost a son or daughter to death. It's a club no one wants to join. I told of my pain in trying to sing “Ring Out Wild Bells” the day before. Since my therapist's question on Friday, I’ve started re-framing. Yes, it’s the start of the second whole year without David. But it’s also the start of a new year of my life.

Matt spent the weekend with us before his big trip to Hawai'i with R'el. Now they've been in all 50 states. Next weekend they'll run a marathon on Maui: her third, his twenty-ninth. Unfortunately for him, his early Sunday flight was cancelled due to the big snowstorm on Saturday, however, we enjoyed his company for an extra day and a half. Monday morning we had a great discussion about anxiety and choice and enjoying life. Today both Jim and I feel differently about our day, more conscious of taking charge and making deliberate choices. I did little things: conquered the mare's nest of cords under our bed, laundered our clothes, played the piano.
I’m taking it slow: I made no dramatic resolution on January 1st, didn't promise myself to never miss a day of exercise or to read a book every two weeks. I'm gently considering how to live my life more fully. Can I appreciate the great gift of life I have?