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.