Join Us!

Saturday, April 26, is the third annual "Path To Progress" Walk/Run for the American Brain Tumor Association. It is Team Beres' second annual appearance. We can do better this year. Join us, and make this picture bigger. Walk with us, we'd love to have you! Of course, donations are greatly appreciated as well. The ABTA exists to raise funds for research to find treatments and someday, a cure, for this awful disease. And, they provide much needed support for brain tumor patients and families. They are funding some amazing research. I am now a board member, I can vouch for what the organization does. It isn't a "popular" disease. It doesnt' get much attention. It needs all the support we can muster. I don't need to tell you how devastating the disease is. You can look back on my entries here to witness that. I can direct you to other stories like TeamMeyer, Fred Schappert, Robin Sierra, Kirby Bates, and many many more, whom are no longer with us. Who were taken so quickly, and so cruelly by this disease. But, there are four year + survivors out there, Pam Cameron is coming up on that, Dan Kidd is there, there is hope. We need more hope. We need more treatments, we need a cure. Help us. Go to abta.org, find the link for the Path to Progress, on the left side of the homepage. You can join our team, TEAM BERES, or support our team with a donation. Thank you, for all my brain tumor buddies, thank you.

Pretty Good

Sometimes, I actually feel pretty good about myself. About where I am, now, almost nineteen months later. That we made it through that awful journey, somewhat reasonably intact. OK, not entirely intact, but reasonably. That I learned all about that nasty thing, and marshalled every weapon we could to fight it, as fruitless as it ultimately was. That we made it as good as we could for Lou, as bad as it was for us. Sometimes, I do feel pretty good about myself. That I finally did get out of bed months later, put one foot in front of the other, and went back into the world. That I found my way, with lots and lots of help, but found it nonetheless. That I've traveled, sent a second son off to college, got back to work. That I've learned to enjoy my own company, most of the time. That I can make it through that darn "core fusion" class where I am, without a doubt, at least 25 years older than most everybody else in there. It's not a bad thing to feel good about oneself. When you do, you tend to be happier, in general. You can be better, for others. It is still novel to me, this "feeling pretty good" thing. I still marvel at it, when I catch myself, every now and then saying "wow, I'm kind of doing ok". It can happen. It's pretty good to feel pretty good.

Digging

Today I had to do some digging. Not digging in the garden, because, well, you know, I don't have one, or even a lawn for that matter. No, digging to find something in the piles of cards, letters and notes I still have from when Lou died, now 18 months ago. I found what I was looking for, but I also found so much more. I realized it is impossible to fully read and absorb the notes of sympathy that are sent after the death of a loved one. It is too hard to. And, it was too hard for quite some time, for me, anyway. The words are meant to comfort, but they are oh so hard to read, at the time. So painful. Today, I went through every card and note in that basket. Many, I did not remember having read before. Such beautiful, touching words. Such an amazing man he was, who touched so many, just by being Lou. So many cards and letters. It was comforting to read the words, now. It was sad, yes, but it was good to know so many people had said so much. It is still painful, so painful. I still have so much to get rid of, so much to go through. It's hard. It's painful. It's better not to. It's better to try to leave it behind. To look forward. Digging out. Digging through. And reaching for the sun. That's the good part of digging.

A Sense of Spring

It could be coming. It will be coming. Afterall, daylight savings time is coming, so spring has to be coming...at some point. I could smell it today. The air was just ever so slightly fuller, warmer smelling in some way. When he was little, Drew used to say "it smells like baseball" when spring arrived. It doesn't quite smell like baseball yet, but it's coming. I could see it, in the sun that set later than usual, such a welcoming sight, walking home from yoga in the twilight, not darkness. I could feel it, the air was not as frigid as it has been. It was almost balmy, somewhere near the 40s probably. We hardly have spring here in Chicago, we tend to go from winter to summer, with a few days inbetween. Spring to us is melting snow, gloveless hands, open coats and smiles. Brief, but so appreciated. It's on it's way. It could be a month, or longer, but it's out there. With all it's hope and goodness, waiting. This spring, I am so much stronger than last. And the one before that. And the one before that. Through all the gray, damp, and cold winter days, I've grown. Changed. Bent by the winds. But not broken. No. Blossomed. Not broken. Hurry, spring.