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:



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.

I've been trying for a while now to find the right words to say about Pete, but it's been hard. My mom often talked about the first time I ever met Pete, 36 years ago when he came home from the hospital. Apparently, I thought he was a doll - until he started crying, that is - and apparently I was pretty upset about losing my role as the only child. Fast forward 36 years and now I am, once again, the only child. The difference is that now I would do anything to have my baby brother back again.

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.

Nancy and Pete in Las Vegas

Being so far away was hard, but I always looked forward to visiting in the summer because I got to spend time with Pete on his boat. He came out to California several times. First with my cat, then with his girlfriend Nancy, which is when I took my very first trip to Vegas. We did Vegas in one day - a 3-1/2 hour drive up in his rented convertible, followed by hours of open-mouthed fascination at the sights, gambling, eating, and a 3-1/2 hour drive home. I remember that Pete had planned on driving home, but I insisted. At the time, I was still a journalist, and I knew that almost every weekend our newspaper reported fatalities on the 15, a long and mind-numbing stretch of desert highway. Pete was pretty ticked that I didn't trust him to drive, but by the time we reached State Line a half hour later, he was already asleep, and around 2 a.m., I had gotten my baby brother and Nancy home safely, just like I promised. His last visit was a few years ago, before the diagnosis. He installed ceiling fans in our house and took a very disappointing fishing trip out of Dana Point. Pete really couldn't understand how I liked living out here, given the smog, the traffic, and most of all, the woefully disastrous fishing.

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.

People often ask me how I'm doing, and I always tell them the same thing. I'm ok. I'm hanging in there. I have good days and I have rough days. The truth is I am ok. I am hanging in there. I do have good days and I have rough days. But I also miss Pete more than I can express. I think about him every day. I wonder all the time if he knew how much I loved him. I wonder if he could hear me tell him that the last few days of his life when he was unconscious from the pain medication, increased in dosage to manage the excruciating pain from the tumors in his brain. I wonder if he's in heaven, if I'll ever see him again, if I'll have an experience as some of his friends have had, or receive a sign that he's found his way and he's ok.

2010 Luminary

I know I'm going to cry at Relay when I see Pete's picture in the slideshow, and I'm going to cry when I pass his Luminary, and I'm going to cry when the solo bagpiper marches onto the field - symbolizing the people who come into our lives - and when the sound of his bagpipe fades into the night - symbolizing those who have left. But I'm also going to try to focus on the positive. This weekend, I'm walking for Pete, but I'm not just walking in his memory. I believe that if Pete were still here, he would walk so that others could have a chance to realize their dreams, reach their goals, and fulfill their potential. That's just the kind of guy he was.



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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

A Time to Be Born - March 7, 2011

I'd like you to meet Tim and Sara's new son, Justin Peter. He was born just a short time ago and Tim sent me his picture in a text message. I know how pleased Petey would be to have this beautiful bundle of love share his name. I also know he'll be watching over Justin Peter as he grows. Thank you so much, Tim and Sara, for honoring Pete in this way. He's beautiful!!

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.

One of Petey's favorite rides

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.