Pete received a notice in the mail a few weeks back from MAZE Laboratories. I knew it would be coming but holding the envelope in my hand made it real. I couldn't bring myself to open it right away but when I finally did I didn't read the whole letter, there was no point. My eyes just focused, or tried to focus, on the paragraph that began "If you choose to discontinue storage..."
This is not my choice because I have no choice. This is something that I have to do and the deadline is close. I can't put it off any longer so I made the call to find out what paperwork I will need to send in along with the form. All I need, it seems, is to sign the form, have it notarized and send a copy of the death certificate because Pete had provided my name as the person authorized to order destruction of his specimens if he was unable to do it.
To say this is difficult is an understatement.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
It's Hard to Say Goodbye - June 26, 2011
I asked Gina to write something for the blog the other day, as I've just been unable to write anything myself. Here's what she sent me:
It's hard to say goodbye.
Still, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to commit Pete's ashes to the Atlantic Ocean during his final memorial service June 18. He grew up with a fishing pole in his hand and spent many summers out on boats - first our grandpa's boat, then headboats and party boats, and finally, his own - so I can't think of a more fitting final resting place for him than in the place he loved best.
I have to admit, I was a bit uneasy about this trip. Since Pete's cancer, trips home were awkward and uncomfortable for me. Living in California, I had some distance from the reality of his illness, but having to face it was really hard for me. I never knew what to say or do for Pete and my mom, and inevitably, I would say or do the wrong thing. This time, I would have to deal with the added reality that my baby brother wouldn't be there, and even worse, never would again.
Shortly after arriving, I went down to the basement where Pete's things are packed (mostly cartons and boxes full of clothes, fishing gear, books, and some mementos). I cried. Two days later, I went down to pick out a shirt of his to wear out on the boat for the memorial. I chose a blue T-shirt Pete bought in Dana Point one spring when he came out to visit me and Doug, a year or two before he got sick. When Pete was broke, my mom would buy his ticket to California during my spring break from teaching so he could come out and visit us. Pete had been so excited to go sportfishing in California, but the spring before, it rained almost every day and he never got to go. This time, he had great weather, so he researched the different fishing boats and chose one in Dana Point, a little over an hour away from where I live.
I got us a hotel room and we drove out the night before; then, I got up with him at 4 a.m. to drive him the mile or so from the hotel to the boat. We both got to do what we loved: Pete spent the day fishing, and I took the opportunity to go shopping at my favorite mall. When I returned from my outing, I headed back to the harbor and anxiously looked for Pete. About a half hour later, the boat pulled in and I saw Pete. He wasn't smiling. Not only did Pete not catch any fish, apparently, nobody did. He was not a very happy camper. He did leave with a hat, a shirt, and a pen from the gift shop - and some memories - but that was about it.
Last Christmas, I came home for a visit. I don't remember who sent it, but I think a friend (friends?) of his from Costco gave him a small framed three-dimensional "picture" of a small fishing boat heading out to sea. At the top of the frame is a clear glass piece that allows light to come in, giving the boat and the waves added dimension and life. It was beautiful, but its title "Last Catch" gave me a chill. I thought it was prophetic, and I really hoped Pete would beat the sarcoma so he could have many more catches and many more boat trips in his future. Sadly, Pete left us two months later.
So, on June 18, a boat full of about 90 of Pete's family, friends, and coworkers set out to say our last goodbye and take Pete on his final fishing trip. Three miles from the dock, the boat stopped and we took turns scattering his ashes and tossing flowers into the ocean. At the same time, somebody called our attention to the large school of fish breaking the surface not far from the boat. Afterwards, we all headed over to Farrell's for food, drinks, and friendship. It truly was a celebration of Pete's life. I was sad, yes, but what surprised me was the tremendous sense of peace that I felt. People who Pete loved and who loved him in return were there, and we were surrounded by that love. I knew that this is what Pete would have wanted. I knew that after two-plus years of fighting this disease, he was at peace. I will miss Petey forever, but I also know that he is home.
It's hard to say goodbye.
Still, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to commit Pete's ashes to the Atlantic Ocean during his final memorial service June 18. He grew up with a fishing pole in his hand and spent many summers out on boats - first our grandpa's boat, then headboats and party boats, and finally, his own - so I can't think of a more fitting final resting place for him than in the place he loved best.
I have to admit, I was a bit uneasy about this trip. Since Pete's cancer, trips home were awkward and uncomfortable for me. Living in California, I had some distance from the reality of his illness, but having to face it was really hard for me. I never knew what to say or do for Pete and my mom, and inevitably, I would say or do the wrong thing. This time, I would have to deal with the added reality that my baby brother wouldn't be there, and even worse, never would again.
Shortly after arriving, I went down to the basement where Pete's things are packed (mostly cartons and boxes full of clothes, fishing gear, books, and some mementos). I cried. Two days later, I went down to pick out a shirt of his to wear out on the boat for the memorial. I chose a blue T-shirt Pete bought in Dana Point one spring when he came out to visit me and Doug, a year or two before he got sick. When Pete was broke, my mom would buy his ticket to California during my spring break from teaching so he could come out and visit us. Pete had been so excited to go sportfishing in California, but the spring before, it rained almost every day and he never got to go. This time, he had great weather, so he researched the different fishing boats and chose one in Dana Point, a little over an hour away from where I live.
I got us a hotel room and we drove out the night before; then, I got up with him at 4 a.m. to drive him the mile or so from the hotel to the boat. We both got to do what we loved: Pete spent the day fishing, and I took the opportunity to go shopping at my favorite mall. When I returned from my outing, I headed back to the harbor and anxiously looked for Pete. About a half hour later, the boat pulled in and I saw Pete. He wasn't smiling. Not only did Pete not catch any fish, apparently, nobody did. He was not a very happy camper. He did leave with a hat, a shirt, and a pen from the gift shop - and some memories - but that was about it.
Last Christmas, I came home for a visit. I don't remember who sent it, but I think a friend (friends?) of his from Costco gave him a small framed three-dimensional "picture" of a small fishing boat heading out to sea. At the top of the frame is a clear glass piece that allows light to come in, giving the boat and the waves added dimension and life. It was beautiful, but its title "Last Catch" gave me a chill. I thought it was prophetic, and I really hoped Pete would beat the sarcoma so he could have many more catches and many more boat trips in his future. Sadly, Pete left us two months later.
So, on June 18, a boat full of about 90 of Pete's family, friends, and coworkers set out to say our last goodbye and take Pete on his final fishing trip. Three miles from the dock, the boat stopped and we took turns scattering his ashes and tossing flowers into the ocean. At the same time, somebody called our attention to the large school of fish breaking the surface not far from the boat. Afterwards, we all headed over to Farrell's for food, drinks, and friendship. It truly was a celebration of Pete's life. I was sad, yes, but what surprised me was the tremendous sense of peace that I felt. People who Pete loved and who loved him in return were there, and we were surrounded by that love. I knew that this is what Pete would have wanted. I knew that after two-plus years of fighting this disease, he was at peace. I will miss Petey forever, but I also know that he is home.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Random Thoughts - May 1, 2011
In cleaning and going through Pete's things I also am going through some of my own things that have been stored away for what seems like eons. Before computers and blogs I wrote with pen and paper, using notebooks to hold my journals, poems and ramblings.
Though I wrote this in November, 1982, it seems to fit well with my thoughts of Pete today.
Reverie
The beauty of the day
And warmth of sun
I wish to share with you.
The peace and strength
I search for
I find in thoughts of you.
The fields, the trees,
The laughter of children-
More beautiful because of you.
Though I wrote this in November, 1982, it seems to fit well with my thoughts of Pete today.
Reverie
The beauty of the day
And warmth of sun
I wish to share with you.
The peace and strength
I search for
I find in thoughts of you.
The fields, the trees,
The laughter of children-
More beautiful because of you.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Some of Pete's Last Text Entries - April 28, 2011
Pete ---> Brian W - Thanks Brian. I miss you guys and wish I made more of an effort to get together this past summer. Say hello to your fam for me (crissy, kids, momma dukes, bren, etc.), I think of you all very often. Still looking to recover somewhat, since I need to finish my boat and do some fishing this summer, so don't count me out of the fight... I am realistic, but I refuse to quit, it's not in my nature... Sent: Feb 12, 8:20 AM
Jeanne O ---> Pete - I Miss U Pete!!!! U'll b happy 2 know I'm still doin my Animal Noises & I can now do a Real Turkey Call ;) I've perfected my chicken, pig & goat. I'm a hit @ register w/kids ;) Adults tooo!!!! ;) Rc'd: Feb 12, 6:30 PM
Pete ---> Jeanne O -Awww, good to hear you're keeping up the good work, wish I could see you in action (Message was never sent)
Jeanne O ---> Pete - I Miss U Pete!!!! U'll b happy 2 know I'm still doin my Animal Noises & I can now do a Real Turkey Call ;) I've perfected my chicken, pig & goat. I'm a hit @ register w/kids ;) Adults tooo!!!! ;) Rc'd: Feb 12, 6:30 PM
Pete ---> Jeanne O -Awww, good to hear you're keeping up the good work, wish I could see you in action (Message was never sent)
Sunday, April 24, 2011
What Story Could They Tell? - April 24, 2011
The other morning I pulled out a box filled with an assortment of beverage glasses that Pete had bundled in newspaper for safe storage when he packed his belongings and moved in with us. As I unwrapped this mix of odds-n-ends, most displaying something to identify their origin, I could guess that some Pete had collected himself, while others must have been given to him by friends as I know he was never in Hawaii, Arizona or Texas.
I set each one down and sorted them according to type - beer glasses, 2 with Yankee insignias (Pete was a Phillys fan), another from the Subway Series, another simply shaped like a football. Did he attend games or did one of his friends bring back a souvenier because they thought he might like to know they were thinking of him? Which of his friends remembers how Pete came to posess the glass eblazoned with Bud Lite "Bubble Boys" or the one from the Pilot House or from Applebee's? Did they represent a birthday celebration or other notable event? All are in pristine condtion except for the one advertising "Pete's Wicked Ale". That one looks like it was used often because the screen printing is worn and faded.
Then there are the shot glasses. I'm pretty certain that the one from Puerto Rico is a memento of when he and Rod S. and several others went there to visit Timmie P. What memory, though, does the shot glass from Point Pleasant represent? And who gave him the one from Arizona?
It was difficult looking at those empty glasses and wondering why Pete brought them here. Each must hold a story, some reason why he wrapped them so carefully, but for now they remain silent.
I set each one down and sorted them according to type - beer glasses, 2 with Yankee insignias (Pete was a Phillys fan), another from the Subway Series, another simply shaped like a football. Did he attend games or did one of his friends bring back a souvenier because they thought he might like to know they were thinking of him? Which of his friends remembers how Pete came to posess the glass eblazoned with Bud Lite "Bubble Boys" or the one from the Pilot House or from Applebee's? Did they represent a birthday celebration or other notable event? All are in pristine condtion except for the one advertising "Pete's Wicked Ale". That one looks like it was used often because the screen printing is worn and faded.
Then there are the shot glasses. I'm pretty certain that the one from Puerto Rico is a memento of when he and Rod S. and several others went there to visit Timmie P. What memory, though, does the shot glass from Point Pleasant represent? And who gave him the one from Arizona?
It was difficult looking at those empty glasses and wondering why Pete brought them here. Each must hold a story, some reason why he wrapped them so carefully, but for now they remain silent.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
That Last Goodbye - April 21, 2011
I attended a support group recently, specific to parents, grandparents and adult siblings who have suffered the death of a child of any age. I was taken aback by the number of attendees and though I didn't count, my very conservative estimate would be around 50.
They began the meeting by having everyone introduce themself and provide some information about their child. Among all those present there was only one couple whose child, a woman about Pete's age, married with 3 young children of her own, was also a cancer victim. Most of the children were adults or young adults, but their deaths were sudden and unanticipated - the result of traffic or other accidents, suicides, drug overdoses, and heart attack.
We all lost a child, one couple lost two, so we all shared that common grief, but, with the exception of the parents of that young woman who battled breast cancer for 4 long years, there was a huge difference. Dare I say that that couple and I were the "fortunate" ones who had time to prepare for our child's death? That we were given the opportunity to say our final good-byes, to tell our child how much they were loved and to hear them say that they loved us? To be with our child and hold and comfort them as they left this world? To know that we were doing all we could do to make the transition as peaceful and loving as possible? And, yes, to accept death and even welcome it because it released our child from the pain and misery that cancer inflicts.
I cry because I miss Pete. But I cannot imagine the horror and devastation all those other parents had to endure when they received the shocking news that their child was gone, the fear that their child may have suffered unimaginable pain, the anguish of never having had the opportunity to say that last goodbye, to exchange that last "I love you".
They began the meeting by having everyone introduce themself and provide some information about their child. Among all those present there was only one couple whose child, a woman about Pete's age, married with 3 young children of her own, was also a cancer victim. Most of the children were adults or young adults, but their deaths were sudden and unanticipated - the result of traffic or other accidents, suicides, drug overdoses, and heart attack.
We all lost a child, one couple lost two, so we all shared that common grief, but, with the exception of the parents of that young woman who battled breast cancer for 4 long years, there was a huge difference. Dare I say that that couple and I were the "fortunate" ones who had time to prepare for our child's death? That we were given the opportunity to say our final good-byes, to tell our child how much they were loved and to hear them say that they loved us? To be with our child and hold and comfort them as they left this world? To know that we were doing all we could do to make the transition as peaceful and loving as possible? And, yes, to accept death and even welcome it because it released our child from the pain and misery that cancer inflicts.
I cry because I miss Pete. But I cannot imagine the horror and devastation all those other parents had to endure when they received the shocking news that their child was gone, the fear that their child may have suffered unimaginable pain, the anguish of never having had the opportunity to say that last goodbye, to exchange that last "I love you".
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Something I Found - April 20, 2011
I've been busy sorting through Pete's things and boy, did he have a lot of stuff! Granted, the vast majority of it is fishing and boating paraphanalia, but there's lots of other stuff, too. I found several boxes of chemisty and physics texts and notebooks. As I was fanning through the notebooks, in the midst of an unused section of a chemisty notebook, I ran across the following that Pete had written:
Feeling like a part of yourself is missing when they're gone.
Getting a warm feeling when they are near.
A smile from them gives you a rush.
Being concerned about their happiness to the extent that it bothers you if you feel they are unhappy.
Wanting to know more about them, so that you might know what to do for them to cheer them up when they're down.
Being willing to give more than you would to just about anyone.
Being able to forgive them for doing or saying something which you might disagree with.
Making a concious effort to do something they will appreciate, or not to do something they will disagree with.
Wanting to see them smile all the time.
Feeling lost when they've got something else to do, but knowing that they are thinking of you.
Feeling like a part of yourself is missing when they're gone.
Getting a warm feeling when they are near.
A smile from them gives you a rush.
Being concerned about their happiness to the extent that it bothers you if you feel they are unhappy.
Wanting to know more about them, so that you might know what to do for them to cheer them up when they're down.
Being willing to give more than you would to just about anyone.
Being able to forgive them for doing or saying something which you might disagree with.
Making a concious effort to do something they will appreciate, or not to do something they will disagree with.
Wanting to see them smile all the time.
Feeling lost when they've got something else to do, but knowing that they are thinking of you.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
My Muse - April 17, 2011
Muse: n - a source of inspiration; especially : a guiding genius
My muse is in hiding. During Pete's battle with Sarcoma he was my focus and nourished my muse. Now that the cancer has claimed victory I have difficulty concentrating. Just to write these few sentences has taken so long. It's not that the words aren't there; there are so many thoughts swirling around in my brain, flying faster and coming from so many directions that I just can't capture them to set them down here.
It's 3:23 AM. I sat down in front of the computer over an hour ago. Not much to show for the time I've been here.
My muse is in hiding. During Pete's battle with Sarcoma he was my focus and nourished my muse. Now that the cancer has claimed victory I have difficulty concentrating. Just to write these few sentences has taken so long. It's not that the words aren't there; there are so many thoughts swirling around in my brain, flying faster and coming from so many directions that I just can't capture them to set them down here.
It's 3:23 AM. I sat down in front of the computer over an hour ago. Not much to show for the time I've been here.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Relay for Life - April 9-10, 2011
This was the 2011 Relay for Life weekend in Redlands. Gina and 9 of her students participated and did an awesome job of raising money for the American Cancer Society. This year's theme was Fairytales so the team chose to decorate their campsite around Jack and the Beanstalk. Gina had contacted The Liddy Shriver Sarcoma Initiative and they had sent her brochures and bracelets to include in their informational display. Today I'm posting her photos and write-up of the event.
April is usually a beautiful month in Southern California, but it can also be a bit unpredictable, which was the case this past weekend. After a 90-degree weekend April 1-3, we got socked with unseasonably cold weather - and snow! - this weekend. Just in time for Relay for Life.
Fortunately, the snow didn't extend over the hill, about five miles into the next city where this year's Relay was held, but it was still pretty cold. Daytime temps were only in the low- to mid-50s, and overnight temperatures were in the low 30s. Despite the setbacks, my kids toughed it out, raising over $2,200 for the American Cancer Society AND winning the trophy for the best campsite at the Relay. According to the judges, our team's site best tied together our personal mission with this year's theme, sharing Pete's story and educating other Relay teams about sarcoma.
The day began with some welcoming remarks and a speech from a breast cancer survivor, and then all the survivors - I would guess around 60 or 70, but I didn't count - started the opening Celebrate lap while everyone else lined the track and cheered them on. That was the first of many emotional events. Over the course of the 24 hours, we heard from other survivors, including the father of the youngest survivor registered at this event, a two-year-old girl named Taylor from Guam, currently undergoing treatment in Southern California and was invited by the team from Red Lobster after her family ate there for dinner recently.
Through events such as this one, hopefully, enough money, awareness, and support will be raised so that one day, cancer will become a thing of the past and the senseless deaths of so many, like Pete, will be prevented. Thanks to those who supported my team and my kids. Celebrate! Remember! Fight Back!
* The words Gina chose to write on Pete's Luminary are from "Oceans" by Pearl Jam:
Hold on to the thread
The currents will shift
Guide me towards you
Know something's left
And we're all allowed to dream
Of the next time we touch.
You don't have to stray
The ocean's away
Waves roll in my thoughts
Hold tight the ring
The sea will rise
Please stand by the shore
I will be, I will be
I will be there once more...
 |
| A portion of their Display Board |
 |
| Best Campsite |
 |
| Jack's Beanstalk |
 |
| After the rain came the rainbow |
Sometime around 5, I ducked into the tent to eat some dinner when one of my students came in and said it was raining. I asked if it was raining or drizzling and he said sprinkling, so I stayed put. A few minutes later, it was pouring! We scrambled to move the tables, get the posterboard with Pete's story and brochures from the Liddy Shriver Sarcoma Initiative out of the rain, and save Luminaria bags. Unfortunately, many Luminaria were ruined, but the volunteers did the best they could to recreate those destroyed by the rain. Luckily, the one I made for Pete was unscathed, but one I made for a friend and co-worker undergoing treatment for GBM (brain cancer) turned into a soggy mess. Eventually, the rain and wind moved out and we were treated to a welcome sight: the sun and a huge rainbow.
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| Pete's Memorial Photo |
After the Luminaria were lit, we moved off the track to the stage where the sister of our club's president gave the speech for the Remember ceremony. This summer, they lost their grandfather to cancer, but both of these young people had been involved with Relay since before cancer ever touched their lives. Next was a slideshow of participants' loved ones who lost their fight, and the picture of Pete holding a huge striped bass was the second one. Even though I knew it would be up there, it still hit me like a ton of bricks. We cried through the lone bagpiper's mournful song and then followed the piper in silence - except for sniffles and sobs - around the track in the dark, with only the Luminaria bags to show the way. A former student of mine who was at Relay with one of the other schools' teams offered me his arm and walked me around the track.
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| Pete's Luminary Bag* |
Around midnight, I gave up, but not before I'd logged 15 miles around the track. The cold and exhaustion of the day got to me and I crawled into the tent with some of the kids to try to stay warm and get a bit of rest. I didn't really sleep, but I got to get off my feet for a while. The teams are supposed to have someone walking the full 24 hours, and one team had someone running - 215 laps in all or roughly two marathons - for most of that time. I resumed walking shortly after 6 a.m. at 33 degrees and logged another two and a half miles before the closing remarks and the final lap - the Fight Back ceremony. At the closing, Relay organizers announced the event had raised over $45,000 so far - and were still counting.
Through events such as this one, hopefully, enough money, awareness, and support will be raised so that one day, cancer will become a thing of the past and the senseless deaths of so many, like Pete, will be prevented. Thanks to those who supported my team and my kids. Celebrate! Remember! Fight Back!
* The words Gina chose to write on Pete's Luminary are from "Oceans" by Pearl Jam:
Hold on to the thread
The currents will shift
Guide me towards you
Know something's left
And we're all allowed to dream
Of the next time we touch.
You don't have to stray
The ocean's away
Waves roll in my thoughts
Hold tight the ring
The sea will rise
Please stand by the shore
I will be, I will be
I will be there once more...
Sunday, April 3, 2011
The Hole in a Tree - April 3, 2011
I drove Bruce up to Newark Liberty Airport this morning. He’s flying out to Ohio for a week-long visit with his family. As we travelled along the Garden State Parkway and then the NJ Turnpike my eyes would begin to burn as I choked back the tears, remembering the many times that I drove this route on the way to countless doctor, chemo and radiation appointments. I never counted the number of trips nor figured out how many hours but I’m guessing that I spent more time with Pete over the past two years than I had since he graduated from high school.
Before Pete was diagnosed we had lives that revolved around school, work and friends. Family was always there, of course, but for much of the time we lived in separate homes; he in the house on John Street and I lived here, a distance of less than 4 miles, but as the saying goes, life got in the way. We would often touch base by phone or text, or I might stop by the Costco pharmacy to say a quick hello when I was shopping. He’d stop over for coffee, come here or we’d meet somewhere for a meal, but how often was dependent upon our respective schedules. Pete, Bruce and I were all working full time and Pete was attending Stockton College, Ocean County College or Rutgers during those years, so finding a mutually convenient time was not always easy.
About a year and a half before his initial diagnosis I sold the house on John Street and Pete moved in with us. The plan was that this was to be a temporary living arrangement until he finished his degree and decided what he was going to do afterward. All that changed in a heartbeat.
As I drove home these thoughts and more were tumbling around inside my head along with memories of the many times Pete and I travelled these roads together. As I got closer to my parkway exit I passed by Bamm Hollow Golf Course and I thought about something Pete had seen on one of our earliest trips. As the passenger, he had the opportunity to look around and observe the scenery, a difficult thing for me to do as the driver.
During one drive home he spotted a hole in a tree. He described it to me so often as we approached that particular section of roadway but try as I might, I was never able to take my eyes off the road long enough to find that tree, let alone the hole. So many times he would tell me to “Watch for the stand of trees set back from the road, a dead tree in the middle, its trunk broken off just above a perfectly formed, round hole. It’s coming up… There it is!” But I could never find it. He even tried to point it out to Gina when she went with us during her visit this past winter but she missed it, too.
Today, as I passed the golf course on the drive home my mind began playing his directions in my head. My eyes suddenly caught the stand of trees set back from the road and there, in the brief second that I glanced over was the dead tree in the middle and I saw it - a perfectly formed, round hole just below the break! Yes, Pete, I finally saw it and it was just as you had described it.
Before Pete was diagnosed we had lives that revolved around school, work and friends. Family was always there, of course, but for much of the time we lived in separate homes; he in the house on John Street and I lived here, a distance of less than 4 miles, but as the saying goes, life got in the way. We would often touch base by phone or text, or I might stop by the Costco pharmacy to say a quick hello when I was shopping. He’d stop over for coffee, come here or we’d meet somewhere for a meal, but how often was dependent upon our respective schedules. Pete, Bruce and I were all working full time and Pete was attending Stockton College, Ocean County College or Rutgers during those years, so finding a mutually convenient time was not always easy.
About a year and a half before his initial diagnosis I sold the house on John Street and Pete moved in with us. The plan was that this was to be a temporary living arrangement until he finished his degree and decided what he was going to do afterward. All that changed in a heartbeat.
As I drove home these thoughts and more were tumbling around inside my head along with memories of the many times Pete and I travelled these roads together. As I got closer to my parkway exit I passed by Bamm Hollow Golf Course and I thought about something Pete had seen on one of our earliest trips. As the passenger, he had the opportunity to look around and observe the scenery, a difficult thing for me to do as the driver.
During one drive home he spotted a hole in a tree. He described it to me so often as we approached that particular section of roadway but try as I might, I was never able to take my eyes off the road long enough to find that tree, let alone the hole. So many times he would tell me to “Watch for the stand of trees set back from the road, a dead tree in the middle, its trunk broken off just above a perfectly formed, round hole. It’s coming up… There it is!” But I could never find it. He even tried to point it out to Gina when she went with us during her visit this past winter but she missed it, too.
Today, as I passed the golf course on the drive home my mind began playing his directions in my head. My eyes suddenly caught the stand of trees set back from the road and there, in the brief second that I glanced over was the dead tree in the middle and I saw it - a perfectly formed, round hole just below the break! Yes, Pete, I finally saw it and it was just as you had described it.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Florida, Fishing and a Pelican - March 27, 2011
I haven't been here for a few days. Actually it's been much longer than that. I used to get up early and sit down at the computer before anyone else was up and that would be my time to write down most of my thoughts, save them in the draft folder and go back later to finish up. I still get up early, and sometimes I write, but much of it just remains in draft. Here's one that's been a draft for a while.
Warren, one of Pete's friends, just got back from a family trip to Florida the other day and he shared this story about taking his young son out fishing while down there:
My family and I went down to the Flordia Keys for a couple of weeks. We had lots of different activities planned - horseshoe tournaments, swimming with dolphins, riding our Harleys, and fishing on a private charter, etc. Our fishing trip, however, kept getting pushed back because the wind would kick up and the captain didn't to be out in rough water with my four year old aboard. We finally went out on March 15th. We had been thinking about Petey, knowing how much he would have enjoyed fishing down here and also because his birthday was the very next day.
The captain ran the boat out and we started fishing near the Seven Mile Bridge. My son, Ryan, caught a number of fish during our outing. In fact he caught the first fish of the day, a nice size Grouper, but we had to throw it back because they weren't in season. At one point, Ryan spotted a huge pelican up on the bridge and asked what it was. The captain said, "Thats a pelican, Ryan, and we will call him Petey the Pelican." My wife and I looked at each other. Obviously, the captain had no idea about our friend Petey, nor how much he had been in our thoughts that day.
Warren, one of Pete's friends, just got back from a family trip to Florida the other day and he shared this story about taking his young son out fishing while down there:
My family and I went down to the Flordia Keys for a couple of weeks. We had lots of different activities planned - horseshoe tournaments, swimming with dolphins, riding our Harleys, and fishing on a private charter, etc. Our fishing trip, however, kept getting pushed back because the wind would kick up and the captain didn't to be out in rough water with my four year old aboard. We finally went out on March 15th. We had been thinking about Petey, knowing how much he would have enjoyed fishing down here and also because his birthday was the very next day.
The captain ran the boat out and we started fishing near the Seven Mile Bridge. My son, Ryan, caught a number of fish during our outing. In fact he caught the first fish of the day, a nice size Grouper, but we had to throw it back because they weren't in season. At one point, Ryan spotted a huge pelican up on the bridge and asked what it was. The captain said, "Thats a pelican, Ryan, and we will call him Petey the Pelican." My wife and I looked at each other. Obviously, the captain had no idea about our friend Petey, nor how much he had been in our thoughts that day.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
A Post From Gina - March 30, 2011
I have sat at the computer many times lately, and I've pecked at the keys, but it all winds up in the unfinished draft folder. Over the course of my blog-writing, I've asked Gina if there was anything that she would like to add but she would hesitate and then decline. Last evening, she asked if I would post something that she wrote about Pete and I responded with an emphatic, "Of course!", so here is what she wrote:
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| Gina and Pete, June 2010 |
This weekend, I will be chaperoning and walking with a group of ten students from my high school at the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life, something I did last year to help out their then-advisor who has two young children and couldn't spend the night with them. Last spring, Pete was well into his treatment and was doing well, but it was an emotional night nonetheless. Only a few months later, my husband Doug and I flew to New Jersey for a visit and spent an incredible day with Pete at Six Flags Great Adventure - a way for the three of us to spend some time together since Pete was still working on his boat. At the time, I was filled with hope for Pete's recovery and looking forward to getting out on his boat with him this summer. Last June, his goatee was thick, his spirits were high, and his smile was big. This year's Relay, I know, is going to be one thousand times more difficult and emotional because Pete's picture is going to be in the slideshow, one of cancer's many victims.
Pete and I had our ups and downs as any siblings would. There was quite a bit of torture during our elementary and middle school years and into high school. Then, when I was 17 and Pete was 16, a mutual friend was killed in a horrific car accident. That moment changed our relationship forever. We had lost two grandparents by then, but this was different. Kenny was our age, and that forced us to reexamine our lives and our relationship. We became closer than close. In my senior yearbook, Pete paid for a message to me that read "Congratulations, my sister my best friend." There were many visits where he came to see me at college with his friend Dave, a case of MGD, and a bottle of Absolut. How my 18-year-old brother got the beer and vodka, I have no idea, but we had some interesting nights! The following year, we alternated. I would go down to see him and Dave and my friend Sherri at Stockton, and he'd come up to Trenton State. After I graduated and returned home, we lived together while my mom moved in with our grandmother to care for her. A few years later, I moved to California, leaving our home to Pete and a rotating group of his friends.
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| Nancy and Pete in Las Vegas |
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| Pete and Gina at Gina's wedding |
A few months after I moved to California, our grandmother died. We were both sad, but I also felt a tremendous sense of peace. Only days before she died, I had talked to her on the phone and told her how much I loved her. I had no regrets. There was relief that after several years of declining health, she was no longer in pain, faith that she would be reunited with our grandfather, her husband of 65 years, and joy that she had lived a full life. Losing Pete has been anything but joyful. There is the relief that he's no longer in pain and the sarcoma is no longer running his life, but there has been an overwhelming sense of grief that is unlike anything I've ever felt before. Nothing - not my grandparents' deaths, not my parents' divorce, not the loss of several pets, not my struggle with infertility - has hit me as profoundly as Pete's passing. I realized today that I'm grieving for myself as well as for Pete. My grief is because I will never again see my brother, my closest ally and partner in crime. My grief is also for all of Pete's unrealized dreams, the unreached goals, the unfulfilled potential. I'm sure Pete wouldn't want that. He was never one to throw himself a pity party. Nancy spent a few hours with him a few weeks before he died, and she told me that his concerns were not for himself, but for his family and friends, and that is so like him to put others first.
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| 2010 Luminary |
Saturday, March 19, 2011
California Time - March 19, 2011
Gina and I spent some time this afternoon writing out more thank you cards to acknowledge the donations, Mass cards, etc. that we received. There are some, though, that did not include an address and some were even signed only with first names. I feel terrible that I may miss sending a personal thank you to anyone; I hope they'll understand.
Tomorrow we'll be having brunch with Dave and Brenda, two of the people that I met on the Sarcoma Alliance online chat.
I'm not adjusting well to California time for some reason.
Tomorrow we'll be having brunch with Dave and Brenda, two of the people that I met on the Sarcoma Alliance online chat.
I'm not adjusting well to California time for some reason.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
The Morning After - March 17, 2011
Yesterday passed, but it ended on a good note, a comforting one. It's about quarter past 5 in the morning and I'm showered, dressed and finished with breakfast and my first cup of coffee. I'll be leaving around 6 to drive to Philly for my flight to CA.
I haven't been on Facebook yet, but as of last night there were an incredible number of birthday wishes for Petey on his page, another indication of the number of lives he touched. I spent some time yesterday going through all the cards and recording addresses so that I can, during the flight and layover, begin writing the "thank you" notes. That's my plan at least. I did start to do it a couple of times but just haven't been able to get in the right frame of mind to complete it.
To say I'm looking forward to my visit with Gina is an understatement. I will also be having dinner this evening with my friend, Charmilyn, who is also Gina's godmother. My CA airport is San Diego and is much closer to her home than Gina's. On Sunday we'll be meeting two wonderful cyber friends in person for the first time. They were wonderfully supportive and informative whenever I joined in on the Sarcoma Alliance chat that is scheduled every Sunday and Wednesday night. Someday I hope to meet more of the people who have been part of that incredible online experience.
It's time to finish up here and get on the road. I hope I'll have the time and energy to add to my blog while I'm out there, but if not, I know I'll make up for it when I get back home.
I haven't been on Facebook yet, but as of last night there were an incredible number of birthday wishes for Petey on his page, another indication of the number of lives he touched. I spent some time yesterday going through all the cards and recording addresses so that I can, during the flight and layover, begin writing the "thank you" notes. That's my plan at least. I did start to do it a couple of times but just haven't been able to get in the right frame of mind to complete it.
To say I'm looking forward to my visit with Gina is an understatement. I will also be having dinner this evening with my friend, Charmilyn, who is also Gina's godmother. My CA airport is San Diego and is much closer to her home than Gina's. On Sunday we'll be meeting two wonderful cyber friends in person for the first time. They were wonderfully supportive and informative whenever I joined in on the Sarcoma Alliance chat that is scheduled every Sunday and Wednesday night. Someday I hope to meet more of the people who have been part of that incredible online experience.
It's time to finish up here and get on the road. I hope I'll have the time and energy to add to my blog while I'm out there, but if not, I know I'll make up for it when I get back home.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
A Special Day, a Difficult Day - March 16, 2011
Peter Arthur Bothner, III
Born: March 16, 1975
Time: 4:05 PM
Weight: 8 lb 15 oz
Length: 21 in.
Pete was never one for celebrating his own birthday. I think that's another thing he inherited from me. I've been thinking about the day he was born.
He was my second child and I had taken the Lamaze course, so I knew what to expect. Once labor started it progressed very quickly. My contractions were so close by the time we arrived at the hospital I was sent directly to delivery with no time for prep. I can remember so vividly the doctor asking me if I felt like pushing. I told him I didn't, and asked him if he wanted me to push. He seemed a bit confused by my question, but he told me I could, so I did. One big push and the doctor got really excited and said "stop!", so I did. He was really surprised at that point and asked me again if I felt like pushing. Again, I said no, but to let me know when he wanted me to push again. He told me he was ready, so I gave another push. I had full control, I felt no pain, and so it went. A few very controlled pushes and he was out. He was a big boy right from birth, but it was such an easy delivery for me; very short labor and very mild, a natural birth, no drugs.
Today, as on the day of his birth, I have no physical pain but the emotional pain is excruciating. I know he's nearby, I can feel him, but not being able to reach out and touch him, hug him and feel his arms around me is beyond any heartache I have ever experienced before.
I know I'll get through today, it just isn't going to be easy.
Born: March 16, 1975
Time: 4:05 PM
Weight: 8 lb 15 oz
Length: 21 in.
Pete was never one for celebrating his own birthday. I think that's another thing he inherited from me. I've been thinking about the day he was born.
He was my second child and I had taken the Lamaze course, so I knew what to expect. Once labor started it progressed very quickly. My contractions were so close by the time we arrived at the hospital I was sent directly to delivery with no time for prep. I can remember so vividly the doctor asking me if I felt like pushing. I told him I didn't, and asked him if he wanted me to push. He seemed a bit confused by my question, but he told me I could, so I did. One big push and the doctor got really excited and said "stop!", so I did. He was really surprised at that point and asked me again if I felt like pushing. Again, I said no, but to let me know when he wanted me to push again. He told me he was ready, so I gave another push. I had full control, I felt no pain, and so it went. A few very controlled pushes and he was out. He was a big boy right from birth, but it was such an easy delivery for me; very short labor and very mild, a natural birth, no drugs.
Today, as on the day of his birth, I have no physical pain but the emotional pain is excruciating. I know he's nearby, I can feel him, but not being able to reach out and touch him, hug him and feel his arms around me is beyond any heartache I have ever experienced before.
I know I'll get through today, it just isn't going to be easy.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Payback - March 12, 2011
Even before cancer invaded our lives, Pete and I helped each other. It might have been something as droll and domestic as throwing a few items in with the other's laundry; maybe one of us needed an extra hand when building, fixing or just working out a vexing problem. There were times his finances needed a boost when tuition or an unanticipated truck repair was a little more than he could handle. If it was I who was doing the helping he'd always apologize and then tell me that he'd pay me back. I'd laugh and tell him to remember that "payback's a bitch".
During the past two years our conversations often came back to that; times when he was not able to drive, when he was just wiped out by chemo or radiation, or those horrible nights at Hope Lodge when we were unknowingly dealing with pain-med withdrawal. Countless trips driving to and from NY city often prompted those apologies and promises that he would someday take care of me.
I did what I did out of love; there was no indebtedness, no expectation of repayment and he knew that. I miss him terribly, especially when I need that extra hand or someone to look at a problem I'm trying to work out and give me some ideas on how to proceed.
I need to get away for a while. Gina is on a 2-week long spring break starting Monday, so after talking with her this morning and with Bruce's urging, I booked a flight out to CA for a few days. I fly out Thursday morning and return Tuesday. I can't remember the last time I was out there, but I know it's been well over 2 years ago. I've got things under control here as far as I can tell, and the few things left to do can be done over the phone or via the Internet. Bruce will hold down the fort here and I'll get to spend some time with my daughter, whom I'm missing right now just as much as I miss Pete.
During the past two years our conversations often came back to that; times when he was not able to drive, when he was just wiped out by chemo or radiation, or those horrible nights at Hope Lodge when we were unknowingly dealing with pain-med withdrawal. Countless trips driving to and from NY city often prompted those apologies and promises that he would someday take care of me.
I did what I did out of love; there was no indebtedness, no expectation of repayment and he knew that. I miss him terribly, especially when I need that extra hand or someone to look at a problem I'm trying to work out and give me some ideas on how to proceed.
I need to get away for a while. Gina is on a 2-week long spring break starting Monday, so after talking with her this morning and with Bruce's urging, I booked a flight out to CA for a few days. I fly out Thursday morning and return Tuesday. I can't remember the last time I was out there, but I know it's been well over 2 years ago. I've got things under control here as far as I can tell, and the few things left to do can be done over the phone or via the Internet. Bruce will hold down the fort here and I'll get to spend some time with my daughter, whom I'm missing right now just as much as I miss Pete.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The DVD - March 10, 2011
A young woman whom we had never met did a very beautiful and wonderful thing for us. She had been following Pete's journey and she contacted us when she learned Pete had lost his battle. She contacted us and through the magic of technology she used the Internet, Facebook and some impressive software to put together a DVD of pictures of Pete taken throughout his life and set them to some of his favorite songs. She had set her video presentation on a continuous loop and the funeral home had set up a TV so that visitors could watch and listen. It was incredible.
That DVD is sitting on the cabinet and I've picked it up so many times but I just can't bring myself to watch it yet. There are stacks of Mass cards, sympathy cards and letters letting me know that people have sent donations, but the thank you notes remain unwritten. People brought meals, sent fruit baskets and all sorts of goodies. So many people offered to help out in any way or to sit and talk or listen.
It's not that I don't want to watch, or write or talk. I just can't do it right now. I'm hoping that all I need is a little more time to get my head back together. I'm hoping I'll be able to do these things soon and I hoping you understand.
It's not that I've been sitting around moping. Many times I feel almost overwhelmed with sorting through paperwork, drawers and computer files. Today Bruce and I spent a good part of the afternoon at the motor vehicle office transferring titles. Much of the morning I spent faxing forms and playing telephone tag with some of the people I need to talk to. Yesterday I sifted through pages and pages of medical bills, co-pays and insurance EOBs, trying to match them all up. Somewhere in between I opened an estate checking account and closed some of Pete's other accounts.
Time. I guess it will just take time to get things in order.
That DVD is sitting on the cabinet and I've picked it up so many times but I just can't bring myself to watch it yet. There are stacks of Mass cards, sympathy cards and letters letting me know that people have sent donations, but the thank you notes remain unwritten. People brought meals, sent fruit baskets and all sorts of goodies. So many people offered to help out in any way or to sit and talk or listen.
It's not that I don't want to watch, or write or talk. I just can't do it right now. I'm hoping that all I need is a little more time to get my head back together. I'm hoping I'll be able to do these things soon and I hoping you understand.
It's not that I've been sitting around moping. Many times I feel almost overwhelmed with sorting through paperwork, drawers and computer files. Today Bruce and I spent a good part of the afternoon at the motor vehicle office transferring titles. Much of the morning I spent faxing forms and playing telephone tag with some of the people I need to talk to. Yesterday I sifted through pages and pages of medical bills, co-pays and insurance EOBs, trying to match them all up. Somewhere in between I opened an estate checking account and closed some of Pete's other accounts.
Time. I guess it will just take time to get things in order.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
One Day Last Summer - March 9, 2011
I wrote about a lot of things in my blog, but there were also many things that I never shared because Pete would read it from time to time, and some of what I wanted to write might have upset him. I hope it won't upset him now but I need to write this, I need to get it down on paper.
Pete was so loving and full of life, but he harbored a deep sadness that he didn't want people to see. This may have been the reason he could relate to and comfort so many people; he knew what they were going through. His was a genuine empathy with those struggling through difficult times.
Last summer, after we learned from Dr K at MSKCC that there were no other treatments they could offer, I felt as if we were drowning. It was lower than any low that we had experienced up until that time. I was in the computer room, furiously researching every nook and cranny of the internet, when Pete came in and sat in the other chair.
He was crushed; a man beaten. I had never seen him this depressed before. I turned my chair to face him as he sat, shoulders slumped, head down, his hands lightly clasped together. He began talking softly about what he so desperately wanted: to get to a point in his life where he felt confident and secure enough to enjoy a relationship that would lead to marriage, a family, and a home. He wanted to finish his chemistry degree and renovating his boat so he could go fishing with his buddies, and someday go fishing down in the keys. He wanted to get another motorcycle and go on a road trip. He wanted to be able to take care of me for a change. Call it his "bucket list", his wish list, his wanting-to-do list. We sat and talked and cried some. It hurt so deep inside me to see him go through that. It hurts me even more now, knowing that he will never realize his dreams in our mortal world. My pain is compounded because I will never see, but can only imagine, the wonderful smile of joy and pride on his face as he experienced life, becoming a husband and father, homeowner and long-lived fisherman.
Our pity-party ended. He left to do some research of his own and I returned to my quest. Before long we had found a new lead to follow, a renewed hope.
Pete was so loving and full of life, but he harbored a deep sadness that he didn't want people to see. This may have been the reason he could relate to and comfort so many people; he knew what they were going through. His was a genuine empathy with those struggling through difficult times.
Last summer, after we learned from Dr K at MSKCC that there were no other treatments they could offer, I felt as if we were drowning. It was lower than any low that we had experienced up until that time. I was in the computer room, furiously researching every nook and cranny of the internet, when Pete came in and sat in the other chair.
He was crushed; a man beaten. I had never seen him this depressed before. I turned my chair to face him as he sat, shoulders slumped, head down, his hands lightly clasped together. He began talking softly about what he so desperately wanted: to get to a point in his life where he felt confident and secure enough to enjoy a relationship that would lead to marriage, a family, and a home. He wanted to finish his chemistry degree and renovating his boat so he could go fishing with his buddies, and someday go fishing down in the keys. He wanted to get another motorcycle and go on a road trip. He wanted to be able to take care of me for a change. Call it his "bucket list", his wish list, his wanting-to-do list. We sat and talked and cried some. It hurt so deep inside me to see him go through that. It hurts me even more now, knowing that he will never realize his dreams in our mortal world. My pain is compounded because I will never see, but can only imagine, the wonderful smile of joy and pride on his face as he experienced life, becoming a husband and father, homeowner and long-lived fisherman.
Our pity-party ended. He left to do some research of his own and I returned to my quest. Before long we had found a new lead to follow, a renewed hope.
Monday, March 7, 2011
A Time to Be Born - March 7, 2011
Paperwork, Motorcycles and Plays - March 7, 2011
I have been a bit overwhelmed by paperwork. The income tax deadline is approaching and I'm scurrying to find all of Pete's receipts for medical payments, travel, prescriptions, etc. He was not the most organized when it came to that kind of thing. I made a few blunders and I put the cart before the horse with a couple of things and made it more difficult for myself, but hopefully I'll be able to get that straightened out soon.
Pete had a motorcycle for a short time, a big red Honda TransAlp that he loved. He didn't have it for long and he always talked about getting another. He helped several friends learn to ride and get their licenses.
Timmie P: I was one of the guys that lived with Petey in the John street house....awesome times. I remember him teaching me how to ride his motorcycle...after we had a couple of screwdrivers. Luckily the neighbor across the street was pretty cool about it. I also remember how we would scurry the heck out of there when his mom would stop by. Wow, were we afraid of her. It wasn’t till years later we saw how strong and sweet a person she is and how Petey became the person we all love.
Pete had a motorcycle for a short time, a big red Honda TransAlp that he loved. He didn't have it for long and he always talked about getting another. He helped several friends learn to ride and get their licenses.
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| One of Petey's favorite rides |
Both Pete and Gina enjoyed acting on stage and performed in several plays while they were in high school. Dianne A relates this:
I was friends with Pete back in high school. We re-connected here in the virtual world of Facebook, and I'm very glad to have done so. If I feel the loss of his passing, how much more so must all of you who are family and close friends! My heart goes out to you as you adjust to life after his death.
I wanted to share with you one mental image I have of Pete that keeps coming back to me. Back in high school, he and I were both in the play Any Number Can Die. In that play, Pete's character was required to kiss another character and basically waltz off with her into the sunset, or at least as much as one can do so on a stage. I remember the emotional chaos that seemed to swirl around that scene, as the girl he had to kiss was not only quite a bit shorter than he was, thus sparking some debate at how to make it flow smoothly, but she was also dating another cast member, who was not overly enthused about his girlfriend kissing another guy. In the midst of that was Pete. I can picture how he looked as he ushered that girl offstage in such a comical manner that seemed to me to not only break the tension, but also made it difficult for me to keep a straight face. That's the image I have of Pete: this tall, young, blond guy with a comical expression as he waltzed off into the sunset. He always could make me smile. Thank you for sharing your son with all of us, and thank you for sharing yourself with us in your blog.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Believe What You Will - March 4, 2011
I do believe that we die an earthly death but that a part of us, our soul some call it, lives on.
Today, I had an eerie thing happen. Was it just coincidence or did Pete play a part in it?
From early childhood I have loved working with tools, hand and power, building, fixing and creating. I "inherited" this from my father, and I guess you could say that I passed the gene down to Pete. Drill presses, table saws, hammers and just about any tool you can conceive of resides here because my father's motto, when it came to tools, was that every task is easier if you've got the right tool to do the job.
This morning I decided it was time to repair the latch on our drive gate and in order to do that I needed a specific size drill bit. If you're at all familiar with tools you'll recognize that the average drill bits are pretty standard in size: 1/16", 1/8", 1/4", 3/8 ", etc. You don't usually get a 15/64" or a 9/32" bit when you buy a pack of drill bits.
Today I needed one of those unusual size bits, 9/32" to be exact. I went down into my workshop in the basement but couldn't locate one. I came upstairs, muttering to myself, knowing that there had to be one around somewhere, and headed out to the garage. Pete has as many tools as I have, maybe even more because when I saw something that neither of us had I'd buy it for him for Christmas or birthday or just because I thought he might need it. The problem is that he had been working on his boat renovation through the fall and never really was able to put things in order, so my garage is strewn with toolboxes, tools and all manner of boat parts.
I was envisioning a long and arduous search for the elusive bit when I saw a handful of drill bits in plain sight on a shelf as soon as I walked toward the back door of the garage. I scooped up them up in my left hand and without a glance pulled out one with my right. It was 9/32". I felt a sudden calm and then the tears began to come. You can believe what you will, but I don't believe this was a simple coincidence.
Bruce and I picked up Pete's ashes and brought them home this afternoon. I carried them from the funeral home and held them close to me, just as I held him when he was an infant almost 36 years ago. I love you, Petey.
Today, I had an eerie thing happen. Was it just coincidence or did Pete play a part in it?
From early childhood I have loved working with tools, hand and power, building, fixing and creating. I "inherited" this from my father, and I guess you could say that I passed the gene down to Pete. Drill presses, table saws, hammers and just about any tool you can conceive of resides here because my father's motto, when it came to tools, was that every task is easier if you've got the right tool to do the job.
This morning I decided it was time to repair the latch on our drive gate and in order to do that I needed a specific size drill bit. If you're at all familiar with tools you'll recognize that the average drill bits are pretty standard in size: 1/16", 1/8", 1/4", 3/8 ", etc. You don't usually get a 15/64" or a 9/32" bit when you buy a pack of drill bits.
Today I needed one of those unusual size bits, 9/32" to be exact. I went down into my workshop in the basement but couldn't locate one. I came upstairs, muttering to myself, knowing that there had to be one around somewhere, and headed out to the garage. Pete has as many tools as I have, maybe even more because when I saw something that neither of us had I'd buy it for him for Christmas or birthday or just because I thought he might need it. The problem is that he had been working on his boat renovation through the fall and never really was able to put things in order, so my garage is strewn with toolboxes, tools and all manner of boat parts.
I was envisioning a long and arduous search for the elusive bit when I saw a handful of drill bits in plain sight on a shelf as soon as I walked toward the back door of the garage. I scooped up them up in my left hand and without a glance pulled out one with my right. It was 9/32". I felt a sudden calm and then the tears began to come. You can believe what you will, but I don't believe this was a simple coincidence.
Bruce and I picked up Pete's ashes and brought them home this afternoon. I carried them from the funeral home and held them close to me, just as I held him when he was an infant almost 36 years ago. I love you, Petey.
Tales from Costco - March 4, 2011
Pete put in an application to work at PriceClub, a warehouse store that was under construction one block away from our home in 1992. The company had a store, I believe it was in Hazlet, that was already operational so when his application was approved, Pete and the other applicants were sent to Hazelt to be trained and ready for the opening of the new store in Brick. PriceClub eventually became PriceCostco and finally Costco.
Pete held several positions in his early years working on the floor, at the registers, in the food court and even held a supervisory postition for a brief time. He really didn't care for being a supervisor because it meant he sometimes had to admonish or reprimand and he never did like being in that kind of situation. When he started in the pharmacy he seemed to have found his niche. He was taking courses part-time at Ocean County College, and then at Rutgers, working toward a degree in chemistry with the intention of applying to Pharmacy school. He was only a few credits shy of that chemistry degree when he received the devastating news of his diagnosis.
So many members of his Costco Family have been sharing with me their personal experiences, accounts of Pete's kindness, caring and laughter; brief insights into a "bear of a man" with an enormous heart.
Sandra B wrote: I’ll never forget the first time that I walked into the Pharmacy and was told that I would be entering prescriptions for the first time. To be honest, I was scared out of my mind! I had bare bones knowledge and didn’t know what to do. Then Jeff told me, “Don’t worry. Petey’s going to be with you. You’ll be fine.” So here I am all day bugging Pete and asking him so many dumb questions and feeling badly for doing so, but the funny thing was it didn’t seem to phase him. He just answered me and walked me through it all.
Well, needless to say, 5 years later I recognize that I learned the majority of what I needed to know about insurances from “The Insurance Guru!” If Pete couldn’t get a claim to go through insurance, NO ONE COULD!!! Even after that first day, any time I needed help, he was there. He truly was the best at what he did and I just hope that what he taught me rubbed off enough to be half as good at my job as he was at his… Thank you for everything, Petey Boy!!! Never will forget ya!!!
Ellen G added this short piece: When I first started working at Costco I worked in the café. The soda machines were making a funny noise, a rhythmic "psst-click". I turned around and there was Pete walking past with his head and legs moving like a chicken. It was sooo funny!
Pete held several positions in his early years working on the floor, at the registers, in the food court and even held a supervisory postition for a brief time. He really didn't care for being a supervisor because it meant he sometimes had to admonish or reprimand and he never did like being in that kind of situation. When he started in the pharmacy he seemed to have found his niche. He was taking courses part-time at Ocean County College, and then at Rutgers, working toward a degree in chemistry with the intention of applying to Pharmacy school. He was only a few credits shy of that chemistry degree when he received the devastating news of his diagnosis.
So many members of his Costco Family have been sharing with me their personal experiences, accounts of Pete's kindness, caring and laughter; brief insights into a "bear of a man" with an enormous heart.
Sandra B wrote: I’ll never forget the first time that I walked into the Pharmacy and was told that I would be entering prescriptions for the first time. To be honest, I was scared out of my mind! I had bare bones knowledge and didn’t know what to do. Then Jeff told me, “Don’t worry. Petey’s going to be with you. You’ll be fine.” So here I am all day bugging Pete and asking him so many dumb questions and feeling badly for doing so, but the funny thing was it didn’t seem to phase him. He just answered me and walked me through it all.
Well, needless to say, 5 years later I recognize that I learned the majority of what I needed to know about insurances from “The Insurance Guru!” If Pete couldn’t get a claim to go through insurance, NO ONE COULD!!! Even after that first day, any time I needed help, he was there. He truly was the best at what he did and I just hope that what he taught me rubbed off enough to be half as good at my job as he was at his… Thank you for everything, Petey Boy!!! Never will forget ya!!!
Ellen G added this short piece: When I first started working at Costco I worked in the café. The soda machines were making a funny noise, a rhythmic "psst-click". I turned around and there was Pete walking past with his head and legs moving like a chicken. It was sooo funny!
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| Gina and Pete |
Some of the most poignant stories were told to me by his co-workers as they offered their condolances at the funeral home. Their words were a testament to Pete, reaffirmating that he was a man of uncompromising character and grace. I have always been proud of Pete, as I am of my daughter, Gina, and to hear that the way he lived his life had a positive imact upon so many people helps me as I stumble through this very difficult time.
Pete never wanted people to make a fuss over him. He was profound in his thoughts, unpretentious in his ways. The world has lost a beautiful person and we mourn his passing, but he left with us a legacy of peace, love and gentleness. We can best honor his memory by striving to live our lives according to the example he set for us.
Namaste - March 4, 2011
Karen and Bob shared this story and pictures from a few years ago when Pete was working in construction with his friends, Dave, and Dave's brother, Trevor.
They say that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Pete was definitely someone who came for a season. Back in '03 we hired Dave to put an addition on our house, something we later began referring to as "Operation Snowball" because things just kept adding on and on as the work rolled along. Pete was one of the guys that Dave brought along to help.
I'll never forget the day when I was downstairs in the kitchen making a salad for lunch. The next thing I knew, Pete's leg was dangling in front of me! I screamed so loud I'm sure my heart skipped a beat. He had managed to slip between the ceiling joists before the sheathing was in place for the floor. Thankfully, Pete wasn't hurt, so it gave us all a good laugh. Dave came down to survey the damage, the whole time shaking his head saying, "Now I'm going to have to fix that, too", referring to the gaping hole in the ceiling's sheetrock. I had to toss the salad since it now had bits of sheetrock and dust in it. I don't recall what we actually did for lunch that day, but I'm guessing it was a good excuse to go down to Vinnie's and pick up a Cheese Steak instead.
The addition that they were working on was to be a Yoga Studio; a sacred place where people come to stretch and pray - reuniting mind, body and spirit. In yoga we learn of an energy body. Whether preparing a meal to nourish others or hammering boards together to create a room, our energy is transferred and becomes part of what we are doing. That's why it's so important that in everything we do we are attentive to the task and we do it with a joyful heart. I am so very blessed that my home and studio were built by such wonderful souls: Dave, Pete and Trevor.
They say that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Pete was definitely someone who came for a season. Back in '03 we hired Dave to put an addition on our house, something we later began referring to as "Operation Snowball" because things just kept adding on and on as the work rolled along. Pete was one of the guys that Dave brought along to help.
I'll never forget the day when I was downstairs in the kitchen making a salad for lunch. The next thing I knew, Pete's leg was dangling in front of me! I screamed so loud I'm sure my heart skipped a beat. He had managed to slip between the ceiling joists before the sheathing was in place for the floor. Thankfully, Pete wasn't hurt, so it gave us all a good laugh. Dave came down to survey the damage, the whole time shaking his head saying, "Now I'm going to have to fix that, too", referring to the gaping hole in the ceiling's sheetrock. I had to toss the salad since it now had bits of sheetrock and dust in it. I don't recall what we actually did for lunch that day, but I'm guessing it was a good excuse to go down to Vinnie's and pick up a Cheese Steak instead.
The language of Yoga is Sanskrit and we greet and leave each other with the word Namaste. This translates to the divine, or light, in me honors the divine, or light, in you. Pete's light is very bright and I know that it still shines because the spirit never dies.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Watching Time Pass - March 3, 2011
11:24 12:40 2:03 3:27 4:17 5:28 6:35
I have one of those atomic clocks on my nightstand and it projects the time onto the ceiling. I wake almost hourly through the night and listen. I don't allow myself to get out of bed because I'm afraid I won't be able to get back in.
Bruce and I did some running around yesterday and drove down to see some of the boats along Channel Drive in Point and then over to Bogan's Basin in Brielle. I'm leaning toward the Atlantis out of Bogan's but I'd like to get some feedback from a couple of Pete's fishing buddies to see what they think because the Sea Devil in Point is nice, too. I think I may need to talk to Lori and Dave T and Pat and Butch H about something that has been tearing me apart inside, something that I'm not sure I am able to come to terms with and decide on my own, though part of me doesn't want to burden them with my dilemma.
Later in the afternoon Bruce and I went for a walk around the reservoir up the street from our home. He had to turn back because his knee was starting to hurt, but I continued around. It was windy and there weren't very many people walking so it was a good time to just think and talk to Pete and to God.
Last night I got an email from my sister. She forwarded a link to an obituary Pete's father had taken out in the Star Ledger. He included a great picture of Pete.
I have one of those atomic clocks on my nightstand and it projects the time onto the ceiling. I wake almost hourly through the night and listen. I don't allow myself to get out of bed because I'm afraid I won't be able to get back in.
Bruce and I did some running around yesterday and drove down to see some of the boats along Channel Drive in Point and then over to Bogan's Basin in Brielle. I'm leaning toward the Atlantis out of Bogan's but I'd like to get some feedback from a couple of Pete's fishing buddies to see what they think because the Sea Devil in Point is nice, too. I think I may need to talk to Lori and Dave T and Pat and Butch H about something that has been tearing me apart inside, something that I'm not sure I am able to come to terms with and decide on my own, though part of me doesn't want to burden them with my dilemma.
Later in the afternoon Bruce and I went for a walk around the reservoir up the street from our home. He had to turn back because his knee was starting to hurt, but I continued around. It was windy and there weren't very many people walking so it was a good time to just think and talk to Pete and to God.
Last night I got an email from my sister. She forwarded a link to an obituary Pete's father had taken out in the Star Ledger. He included a great picture of Pete.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Remembering the Good Times
If you've been reading my blog, you know that Pete was a fisherman through and through, that he loved the water and everything associated with water: boats, canoes, kayaks, surfboards, you name it. Here are some more memories his friends have offered to share with me, and I share them with you.
Colleen G recounts one of her memories of Pete when he was quite a bit younger:
I met Pete when I was about 19 and he was about 22. He was determined to teach me to fish after he'd heard I'd never really been. The very first time we went he took me to the inlet. He had a small tacklebox resting on the edge of the retaining wall. Within the first five minutes, I managed to accidentally knock it over into the water. I was mortified as we watched it sink. I told him we needed to leave right away so I could take him to the fish store and replace his stuff. I can still see his smile and how he laughed. He told me it was just some stuff and we weren’t going anywhere because he could tell I was going to be harder to teach than he thought. He said that I taught him something new about fishing, “Keep the lures and bait out of Colleen’s way.” Later that night I left some $ on his table for the stuff I lost. A couple days later, I found the $ deep at the bottom of my pocketbook… I have so many memories just like this. And then, there are the really fun ones… lol.
Colleen G recounts one of her memories of Pete when he was quite a bit younger:
I met Pete when I was about 19 and he was about 22. He was determined to teach me to fish after he'd heard I'd never really been. The very first time we went he took me to the inlet. He had a small tacklebox resting on the edge of the retaining wall. Within the first five minutes, I managed to accidentally knock it over into the water. I was mortified as we watched it sink. I told him we needed to leave right away so I could take him to the fish store and replace his stuff. I can still see his smile and how he laughed. He told me it was just some stuff and we weren’t going anywhere because he could tell I was going to be harder to teach than he thought. He said that I taught him something new about fishing, “Keep the lures and bait out of Colleen’s way.” Later that night I left some $ on his table for the stuff I lost. A couple days later, I found the $ deep at the bottom of my pocketbook… I have so many memories just like this. And then, there are the really fun ones… lol.Rod S's story is another carefree youth, "boys just havin' good, clean (but muddy) fun" kind of adventure:
"Brendoon" called me the other day and reminded me of a great story. We used to go on a midnight canoe trip out of Brice Park. Mine and Brendoon's canoe got to the final destination first after much drinking and a few trips into the river. Muddy, wet, tired, and loud we caught the attention of the law enforcement. We were being questioned by a very confused officer when Pete comes stumbling out of the woods in just his "tighty whiteys". The cop took one look at Pete, who resembled Big Foot at this point, and got into his squad car and drove away without a single question more.
The friendship between Tim V and Pete goes back the farthest of all Pete's friendships, back to when they were babies. They grew up together and were fishing buddies from day one. Petey was best man at Tim and Sara's wedding. Tim tells this story, one that indirectly is related to fishing:
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| Tim V and Petey sorting their catch |
I have known Petey as long as I have been walking, there are so many good memories, but one that I will never forget is when Petey and I went fishing and got back to my house real late. He ended up staying the night. When Sara got up to get a drink in the a.m she came back in and asked me what happened last night. I said, "What do you mean?" and went into the kitchen to find all the appliances pulled out into the middle of the floor. I knew it wasn't me or Sara so I woke Petey and asked him about it. He looked around and remembered having a dream about looking for a mouse behind the stove. Hey- at least he didn't try getting in bed with us!!! Love ya, Petey.
Let's Not Forget the Vacuum - March 2, 2011
There are so many people who have been asking "What can I do?" and I have to say, right now, what has to be done are things only I can do. Pete didn't have any real estate, but he does have a truck, 2 boats, a few credit cards and various accounts. In order to start taking care of these, I had to get the death certificates. I picked those up the other day. Next in line is probate his will.
I had an appointment with the attorney scheduled for yesterday morning but I had to reschedule because Bruce apparently scratched his eye and we had to make an emergency trip to his doctor. I see the lawyer today at 2 PM. My 6-month dental checkup had been scheduled for 2 weeks back, couldn't go then; got that taken care of yesterday afternoon. All 3 dogs have an appointment with their vet tomorrow morning, but I'm going to call in a few minutes to see if I can get it changed. Bruce has an appointment with the orthopaedist for his knee tomorrow afternoon.
If I can get the dogs' appointment rescheduled to this morning or evening, or tomorrow evening, then I can go down to the court house and probate the will tomorrow morning.
Oh, yeah. Let's not forget the vacuum. The motor decided to burn up the other day (guess it's time, I bought it in '86), so we have to go out to pick up a new one. My calendar is beginning to look like a whole lot of Xs and arrows.
Hopefully, once I get all this under control I'll be able to sit down and over a cup of coffee, tea or some other possibly more appropriate beverage, take you up on your generous offers of help.
I had an appointment with the attorney scheduled for yesterday morning but I had to reschedule because Bruce apparently scratched his eye and we had to make an emergency trip to his doctor. I see the lawyer today at 2 PM. My 6-month dental checkup had been scheduled for 2 weeks back, couldn't go then; got that taken care of yesterday afternoon. All 3 dogs have an appointment with their vet tomorrow morning, but I'm going to call in a few minutes to see if I can get it changed. Bruce has an appointment with the orthopaedist for his knee tomorrow afternoon.
If I can get the dogs' appointment rescheduled to this morning or evening, or tomorrow evening, then I can go down to the court house and probate the will tomorrow morning.
Oh, yeah. Let's not forget the vacuum. The motor decided to burn up the other day (guess it's time, I bought it in '86), so we have to go out to pick up a new one. My calendar is beginning to look like a whole lot of Xs and arrows.
Hopefully, once I get all this under control I'll be able to sit down and over a cup of coffee, tea or some other possibly more appropriate beverage, take you up on your generous offers of help.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Moving Forward - March 1, 2011
Looking back I guess I knew I had to prepare for Pete's leaving. When we first found that the cancer had metastasised to his lungs we rearranged everything so that Pete would be in the large master bedroom that had the private bath. The past several mornings, as I walk down the hall to the kitchen and pass the doorway to that room, I can feel my heartbeat quicken and my eyes begin to burn. I find myself hoping that when I look in I'll hear my son's cheerful "good morning" that I heard so many times in the past.
I hoped and prayed so feverishly during these past 2 years, but there was always a nagging fear, a dread that I tried so hard to quell, but I could never completely put it out of my mind. The internet is a wonderful and powerful tool. I am so thankful for all the help and support it has provided, but it was the internet that always reignited that horrible premonition that the cancer would win.
I had to go to the Costco pharmacy yesterday evening. They gave me his certificate and pharmacy tech license. I don't even remember if I actually said "thank you" before I ran away because I didn't want to break down there in the middle of the store.
I know that I will get through this, but I also know that I will never be the same. I've lost a part of me and the pain may ease with time but it will never completely heal. Pete did not travel on his journey alone and we became much more than mother and son, but what we were is impossible to describe. I hope that all of you who travelled along with us will now find peace and solace, but also joy and love in having known my son, even if only through my words.
I plan to continue this blog, though I'm not exactly sure where it will go. I know I will be including more "Pete stories", but I will also try to express my own personal experiences, past, present and future, as I learn to cope with this loss. I will not dwell on the negative, though grief and sorrow do have a place and cannot be ignored, but I will make every effort to honor Pete's wish for "everyone to be okay" and try to brighten our days as he was so giftedly able to do.
I hoped and prayed so feverishly during these past 2 years, but there was always a nagging fear, a dread that I tried so hard to quell, but I could never completely put it out of my mind. The internet is a wonderful and powerful tool. I am so thankful for all the help and support it has provided, but it was the internet that always reignited that horrible premonition that the cancer would win.
I had to go to the Costco pharmacy yesterday evening. They gave me his certificate and pharmacy tech license. I don't even remember if I actually said "thank you" before I ran away because I didn't want to break down there in the middle of the store.
I know that I will get through this, but I also know that I will never be the same. I've lost a part of me and the pain may ease with time but it will never completely heal. Pete did not travel on his journey alone and we became much more than mother and son, but what we were is impossible to describe. I hope that all of you who travelled along with us will now find peace and solace, but also joy and love in having known my son, even if only through my words.
I plan to continue this blog, though I'm not exactly sure where it will go. I know I will be including more "Pete stories", but I will also try to express my own personal experiences, past, present and future, as I learn to cope with this loss. I will not dwell on the negative, though grief and sorrow do have a place and cannot be ignored, but I will make every effort to honor Pete's wish for "everyone to be okay" and try to brighten our days as he was so giftedly able to do.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Music and Dance - February 28, 2011
Today starts out with a quiet rain. My thoughts are slowly swirling and I'm trying to stop the spin. I want to write something, but I just can't get a handle on what exactly I want to say, so I'm just going to include a few comments left on Pete's FB page.
Pete was always ready to join in, not only when it involved fishing or the outdoors. His taste in music was eclectic and he was not afraid to show off his moves on the dance floor.
Pete was always ready to join in, not only when it involved fishing or the outdoors. His taste in music was eclectic and he was not afraid to show off his moves on the dance floor.
One exchange went like this:
Joe K: Do me a favor and tag my profile pic for yourself and help remember an ugg wearing, good music listening, bear of a good guy.
Edie F: I'll never forget the uggs... He was the first one to wear them by YEARS!!! :)
Edie F: I'll never forget the uggs... He was the first one to wear them by YEARS!!! :)
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| Pete and Rob, "cuttin' a rug" |
Joe K: Saw a beautiful sunrise on the way into Jersey this morning and thought of Pete. Just did a shot with him and Freebird is on. Love you bud.
God bless you sir.
Kristine K commented:
I will always remember Petey and his awesome dancing, just having fun with a huge smile on his face. That is how I will remember him. What a spirit he had.
Jennifer D wrote:
A few years back, all of us at work made Petey come with us to a country concert.... and everyone know he's not the biggest fan of country music! He was like, what the hell, its a concert, why not? So he went and had such a great time that he passed out on the lawn!! It was a great night!!
Jim A, who has known Pete for most of their lives, shares this:
I met Pete in school... first grade I think. Much later, when my wife invited me to my first Costco Christmas party, I thought, "Well, this could turn out lame, but I'll go to make her happy," and she said, "Ya know Pete Bothner's going to be there." "Oh yeah?" I said, "Alright! When do we go?" Things were just better with Pete. I'm so sad he's gone but so grateful for the pleasure of having known him so long. (And of course, Costco people were not lame).
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Always and Forever - February 27, 2011
During the viewing held on Friday evening and again on Saturday afternoon, there was a brief prayer service led by Ginny, one of my friends of many years. We then invited people to come up and give us some additional sense of this man we all loved. One of those who spoke was Nancy. Her voice quavered and the paper she held in her hands trembled as she read:
As I search for the words to say today, I close my eyes and picture Pete standing in front of me with those Big Blue Eyes and contagious smile. He would want me to be strong and deliver a message to everyone here of the love he had in his heart for all of you.
Three weeks ago I went to Pete's house and cried in his mom's arms until I thought all my tears were gone so Pete would not see me cry. Well, it didn't work. I sat next to Pete and held his hand and started to cry. Pete looked at me and said "I'm sorry this is so hurtful, I just want you to be okay. I want everyone to be okay."
I told him I'd be okay and I wiped away my tears. I sat with him for hours and in between his cat naps we chatted about our lives, our next fishing trip and how he planned on responding to the many people requesting to visit him. He was unable to fulfill all those requests, leaving so many with unspeakable emotions, so many what-ifs and so many unanswered questions. Pete would not want anyone to feel that way, so I pass on to you Pete's simple math: with every negative there is a positive. So share that funny story, that vacation you took with him or the way only he could make you smile.
As I sat next to him his last night among us I spoke of all the funny stories about him on Facebook and all the love and prayers people were sending his way, then placed my hand over his heart and asked God to please give us a miracle or set him free of this pain. I gave him a kiss or two or three and told him I loved him always and forever and that everyone loves you.
Although I never had the opportunity to walk down the aisle and marry Pete before God my heart has been married to him for 15 years. Our lives took different paths but our hearts never did. I am blessed to Love and to be Loved by such a humble, courageous, giving and loving man for all these years. We now have a beautiful angel looking down on us.
As I search for the words to say today, I close my eyes and picture Pete standing in front of me with those Big Blue Eyes and contagious smile. He would want me to be strong and deliver a message to everyone here of the love he had in his heart for all of you.Almost two years ago I got a call from Pete that he wanted me to look at something on his arm. I never thought in a million years that call would lead us here. He fought hard and his outlook on life was unwavering.
I told him I'd be okay and I wiped away my tears. I sat with him for hours and in between his cat naps we chatted about our lives, our next fishing trip and how he planned on responding to the many people requesting to visit him. He was unable to fulfill all those requests, leaving so many with unspeakable emotions, so many what-ifs and so many unanswered questions. Pete would not want anyone to feel that way, so I pass on to you Pete's simple math: with every negative there is a positive. So share that funny story, that vacation you took with him or the way only he could make you smile.
As I sat next to him his last night among us I spoke of all the funny stories about him on Facebook and all the love and prayers people were sending his way, then placed my hand over his heart and asked God to please give us a miracle or set him free of this pain. I gave him a kiss or two or three and told him I loved him always and forever and that everyone loves you.
Although I never had the opportunity to walk down the aisle and marry Pete before God my heart has been married to him for 15 years. Our lives took different paths but our hearts never did. I am blessed to Love and to be Loved by such a humble, courageous, giving and loving man for all these years. We now have a beautiful angel looking down on us.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Donations - February 26, 2011
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| Peter "Petey" Bothner 03/16/1975 - 02/23/2011 |
To all of Pete's friends who have been following his journey, I would love to have you share any memories that you have of Pete so that I may be able to include them here. I always knew my son was special and it is a great comfort to me to learn that so many of his friends and even casual acquaintances recognized it, too.
You can connect with me here by leaving a comment or find me (Reggie Tierney) on FaceBook.
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