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)
Thursday, April 28, 2011
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.
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