Microblog Mondays: My Furbaby is Not Long for This World...

Our dear Mel over at Stirrup Queens has begun a blog phenomenon... as she frequently does. 

Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.
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I do not know what to write. 

My heart aches. 

In January 2014 I wrote about the heartbreaking loss we'd suffered. My then 18-year old cat, Shadow, passed away in my arms the day we returned from a family vacation. 

Now, a year and a half later, Shadow's brother, 19-year old Smudge (he would be 20 on August 25), is in pain and he is showing me signs that he is ready to go play with Shadow and the catnip mice in the sky. 

I cannot put him through any more pain. I hate to see him struggle to jump or walk, and his legs tremble as he tries valiantly to go to the washroom. Poor baby boy. It's not fair. 

I've had my boys longer than I've known Hubby. It was my boys who showed Petite how to treat animals... kindly, gentle, with the utmost of care and respect. And it is because I love him so much that today I made the dreaded phone call to have a vet come later this week for an in-home euthanasia. It will tear me up inside. But I need to do this. For him. I cannot prolong his pain and suffering for my own benefit. Nope. Not fair. 

Big Boy 'Mudgers, I love you. I always will. Mommy will see you again and rub that white spot on your belly, nuzzling you softly. I promise. 

October 2008; enjoying the sunshine

August 2009: Rub my white spot Mommy!

August 2014; between Mommy's legs for the night!

October 2014; loving the catmint!

January 2015; snuggling in bed with Petite for the FIRST time!

Microblog Mondays: Running... for a Reason

Our dear Mel over at Stirrup Queens has begun a blog phenomenon... as she frequently does. 

Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.
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I took my running outside yesterday.

Ouch. Did you know that running on pavement is VERY different from running on a treadmill? I knew it, but wow, I'm really feeling it this morning. I used muscles yesterday that I haven't used in ages. They are screaming at me today. It'll be worth it though.

I stood up in church yesterday and told them of my run. I screwed up my courage and went for it.

"Hi, my name is Gil. I sing in the choir and now and then I bring my daughter Petite with me, who seems to enjoy dancing at the front for your pleasure." (The congregation laughed, as Petite just can't help but move and shake when we start singing!)

I continued...

"Last year I set out to lose some weight. I've been pretty successful at it thus far. At that time, I had set myself a personal goal; I wanted to run a 5K — not WALK it as I've done before — but run a 5K before my 45th birthday. Well, I've registered for that run coming up at the end of May, a week before my birthday. I'm gonna do it. I WILL get through it. Originally, I thought I would just run it for myself, to see how well I could do. But on February 4, all of that changed."

I took a deep breath.

"On February 4, a dear friend of mine took his own life. His widow, his friends, his family, we are all still dealing with this. Then, three weeks ago, a colleague of mine did the same thing." I heard the audible intake of breath and the scattered sympathetic moan. And I took another breath.

"So, my friend's widow and I, and another friend of ours, we are running this 5K in my friend's honour, and to raise funds for the Royal Ottawa Hospital's Foundation for Mental Health. The name of our team is The Hamsters are Free! in a nod to Rob's stellar sense of humour," laughter rang out, "... and if you, your family or your friends have ever been affected by mental health issues, we would be happy to have your sponsorship to raise funds for this wonderful cause. Mental health is something that is still taboo to talk about but so many people around us are affected. More than we can possibly fathom. Today, I have with me some slips that have the information that will help you donate to the Foundation through a secure online form, or please feel free to speak with me to make other arrangements. Thank you for your time."

So, dear reader, if you would like to support me in this cause, here's the link for you.

The Hamsters are Free! - Scotiabank Charity Challenge

Microblog Mondays: Mental Health

Our dear Mel over at Stirrup Queens has begun a blog phenomenon... as she frequently does. 

Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.

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I cannot possibly fathom writing about anything else this week. For ever since last Wednesday, February 4, my world has been shaken and forever changed.

It was an ordinary day. I went to work. I went to the gym; I ran 3.4 miles on the treadmill too! I picked up Petite after school. We went home. Hubby was working late so I took care of dinner, Petite's bath and getting her bedtime routine going. Hubby came home around 9:30, just as I was rousing from a little doze with Petite as she loves a cuddle with us before bed. (I think I fell asleep before she did though!)

And as I was waking and getting up and out of Petite's room, I got a Facebook PM. It was a group PM between me, Hubby and it was coming from our dear friend, MM. 

MM and her husband, RM, have been friends of ours for YEARS. RM and Hubby knew each other before Hubby and I met in 2000. They've been friends for about 18 years. And when RM met his wife-to-be, we were introduced and got along like a house afire. They're a wonderful couple. We saw them more frequently before Petite was born, but even after her arrival, we always kept in touch and we arranged to get together every few months, as schedules would permit. 

RM was a teacher. Graphic Web Design at a local college. He was well-loved and respected by peers and students. He was funny, very quick witted indeed. And one of the most intelligent men I knew. I admired him. Respected him greatly. He shared good news and bad with us over the years. 

But the Facebook message from his wife shook me to the core. RM passed away earlier on Wednesday afternoon at the age of 46. WHAT? How could that be?! My brain didn't compute that at all. Not possible. It's just not possible. It must be a joke. 

Hubby walked in the door, mouth agape (much as mine was) and I said, "We need to call her. Now. This has GOT to be a joke... He's suck a jokester. Someone must have gotten their hands on his account or hers or something. This isn't real..." 

We called MM, who was in shock, and tears. 

She had come home early as she had known RM was a little down about a medical issue. She found that he had committed suicide. She found her husband; he had hanged himself. She was alone. She was the one who had to call 911, cut him down, give him chest compressions, the whole nine yards. 

No one should ever have to do that to a loved one. Ever. She has that image in her head forever. With luck it will be replaced by happy thoughts in time, but for now, she is grieving. We are in shock. We are preparing to attend his funeral later this week but there are no words to describe how we feel. 

Talk to your loved ones. Talk to professionals. Open up about mental health issues. Because no one should ever feel at wits' end so as to make this choice to end it all. Too many people love you. Yes YOU. You are loved. Deeply. Please don't make this drastic choice. I beg. 

RM, we can but hope you find the peace you so desperately sought. But you will be sorely missed. Life will not be the same without you. We love you. 

Microblog Mondays: RIP to my MIL

Our dear Mel over at Stirrup Queens has begun a blog phenomenon... as she frequently does. 

Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.

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A sad, and very difficult week in our house.

My MIL passed away last Monday afternoon, in the presence of her husband, her sister, one of her daughters, Hubby, and me.

She retired a few years ago, and had lost a significant amount of weight; I knew something was wrong but she was never fully tested. This past summer, they found a tumor and it was surgically removed, but no follow-up chemo or radiation was forthcoming. (We later found that it had been offered to her, but she turned it down. We question now whether she realized the ramifications of that particular decision. She was suffering from dementia on and off during this time because of the tumor.)

Post-op, she came home and was doing fairly well, but just before our Thanksgiving in early October, she took another turn for the worse and things went rapidly downhill from there. She was in the ICU and then transferred to a hospice. We did not expect her to live to see her 67th birthday on November 20. But she made it. She had asked Hubby for a piece of KFC and a Tim Horton's coffee a couple of days before her birthday and she enjoyed what she could eat of that... (translation: very little of either, but at least it was something).

On Monday past, November 24, 2014, my MIL's husband and a couple of the kids were to meet with the doctors at 3 p.m. to discuss her care and next steps. But that morning, Hubby's youngest sister called to verify that the meeting was still on and she was told, "Your mom's breathing has changed. Someone might want to get here sooner than 3 p.m." Hubby called me around 11:45. As soon as he told me that, I knew. You see, I've been down this road before. I knew exactly what the nurses were telling the family.

I told Hubby, "Hang up the phone. March straight to your boss' office and tell him it's an emergency. You need to leave RIGHT NOW. I will meet you there. Go." I did that as well, and I met him just before 1 p.m. at the doors to the hospice. We had barely over an hour with her; she took her last breath at 2:19 p.m. and amid tears, grief, love and pain, we said our goodbyes. Hubby and I left soon thereafter to get his youngest sister at home, and I stayed with the three young children so that his sis could go to the hospice with him. I called the funeral home and started the ball rolling from the home base. And it's been a whirlwind of a week since.

RIP Nicole. You are loved more than you can know and you will truly, truly be missed.

Our huge thanks to our friends and family who came to the celebration of her life this past Saturday; even our dear friends from Toronto (Pam and V) made the trek and we are ever so grateful. Seeing so many people there to pay their respects made it a little easier to say goodbye.

P.S. Thank you all for your sweet comments, e-mails, and thoughts on my last post about the weight loss and the negative comment I had received. You are all so very kind and I am grateful for your understanding and for your outpouring of love. (What a wonderful virtual world this is.)

Moving Right Along; the Latest and Greatest in our World. Or at least, what's keeping us busy.

So let's get up to speed, shall we? Where were we when we last left off? Oh yeah...

Ontario Election

The Ontario election has come and gone. The Liberals won a majority and that means that IVF coverage was pushed through in the budget. Now we do not know yet what that 'coverage' will look like. What will it cover? One fresh cycle only? Or frozen too? How many cycles exactly? Will it come in the form of a tax break or actual coverage up front? And for what ages? Married couples only? Singles? LGBT? What about using donor eggs? What about using donor sperm? There are a lot of parameters to decide.

Milestones

We are still feeling the loss of my baby boy, Shadow as the previous post detailed. His brother, Smudge, has certainly stepped up and tried to fill the void. He's like Velcro to me at the moment, and hates it when I leave the house. He's very attached to people and prefers to be in a room where we are, rather than by himself. But sometimes age gets the better of him and he'd just prefer to go lie down and sleep on our bed, warm and cosy in the blankets. He turned 19 on August 25. He's an old boy now, but we love him and we are keeping him as happy and comfortable as possible until his own time comes.

Petite's 5^th birthday was in August as well. Because she started kindergarten (Jardin) this year, ON her birthday no less (!), she opted to wait to celebrate her birthday in September so she could invite a few of her classmates and close friends from school. So we did that and had 14 children come to celebrate at a local indoor play park. She had an absolute blast!

We also passed the anniversary of my Aunt's passing, and just last week, we released balloons to celebrate what would have been her 80^th birthday. We still miss her so very much. She has left a definite void in our hearts.

Vacation

Over the summer, I took Petite back to The Rock to spend time with my family. We took a side detour over to NS and NB to see family there. In particular, to meet my cousin's new boy-girl twins! They were about 5 months old when we saw them and they were gorgeous! Oh my heavens! What beautiful children. My cousin and his wife did IVF as well and they hit the jackpot. She was able to carry the twins to 39 weeks before they induced her and delivered them by C-section. How very, very luck are they. And in a nod to my grandfather and my aunt, the boy's middle name is my grandfather's first name, and the girl's middle name is my aunt's first name… or the diminutive of it and the name my aunt actually preferred us to call her. I had a few dresses that my aunt had given to Petite, and I passed them on to this baby girl; she can actually wear a dress that her namesake purchased… long before she was even conceived. We are so blessed.

While at home, I managed to see my sister and my nephew too. We had such fun with them and made some wonderful memories, for kids, parents, and grandparents alike. It was a lovely holiday.

Family Grief

Right now, we are dealing with a family issue. Over the summer, my MIL complained of pain in her right side. She delayed a visit to the doctor, and when she finally got to see them, they couldn't do both tests they had hoped at the same visit, so postponed both of them for 6-8 weeks. Eventually, they found it. A growth. She needed surgery, fast, and that done, she was sent home. Apparently they knew it was cancer and told her and offered her chemo which she declined (we question now if she realized the ramifications of her choice, given her dementia at the time). She was sent home. Five weeks later, she was back in hospital with the same symptoms and still too weak, recovering from the first surgery, to undergo a second. The growth had returned, growing quickly and aggressively. She has a sarcoma and it is now systemic. It is terminal. She was in the ICU and has now been transferred to a hospice. There are good days and bad (on Sunday past, she did not awaken at all), but the doctors gave her anywhere from days to weeks left. We are visiting as much as we possibly can and trying to help the family get her affairs in order for the inevitable. It will happen; we just need to be prepared. Or as prepared as we can possibly be. The whole family is in shock and not dealing well with this terribly sad news. (By the way, if you know me personally, this is not yet public information so please do not post anything on FB or other social media about this. I would appreciate your consideration for this sensitive issue. Thank you in advance.)

VSG and Weight Loss

Now, as to my surgery and recovery… and my own accountability.

I had my Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy performed at the Civic on February 3, 2014. Today is November 13. To date, I have lost 114 lbs. I go through long stalls -- weeks where I do not lose a pound – but I usually check my measurements or do a photo comparison (or clothing comparison) and I realize that in the stalls, I am usually losing or redistributing my body weight in other ways. It's pretty fascinating.

My operation took a mere 50 minutes and was without complication. I walked into the operating room and by the time they brought me to a semi-private room in the trauma ward to recover, I was able to get off the gurney and walk to my bed with assistance. It's a laparoscopic procedure, so I do not have a long incision, but rather I had five small incisions through which the surgeon removed approximately 85-90% of my stomach. I have a tiny sleeve of a stomach now that is about the size of a thick pen or narrow highlighter. It can hold 2-3 ounces comfortably, but much more than that makes me get the 'foamies.' That is when I start salivating quickly, as if I were going to vomit, I get lightheaded, my heart races a bit and I start to tear up at the eyes, swallowing hard to try to keep myself from being sick. I usually get up and walk it off, and after a burp/heave or two, it passes. It's happened a few times. Quite the learning curve! My new sleeve cannot handle milk very well, though cheese and yogourt are good. I am following my diet and eating protein forward, followed by veggies (only IF I have room).

In the last month or two, I've had a taste of popcorn and chocolate. I try to stay far away from the carbs to maximize my 'honeymoon' phase which can last for 12-18 months. But now and then, a taste is really nice. Much of my diet now consists of protein shakes for breakfast, some peanut butter for a snack, lunch is usually some meat or fish, a second snack of cheese or a pepperoni stick, supper would be protein with some sauce/dip to help it go down easy (e.g., hamburger patty with 1/3 cup of my homemade spaghetti sauce), and nighttime… is my downfall. I have to be very careful in the evenings. After Petite goes to bed, I tend to look for something to nibble on, more out of habit than anything else. I have found some good protein snacks but I need to be more diligent in choosing them rather than opting for a bite of sugar or carbs. Those are a dangerous, slippery slope! I do NOT want to go there!

I have had some incredible NSVs (non-scale victories) along the way. For example,

• I've gone from size 22/24 down to 10/12. I cannot recall EVER being in size 10/12 before. When I was 14, I was in size 14 as a child.
• I can cross my legs… something I've never been able to do. I can even do it on a plane!
• I can lower the table tray on a plane and still have room to move and bend; it doesn't rest on my stomach. I even had room on either side of my hips while on the plane. That's a FIRST for me in all my years of travel!
• I have oodles of room in movie theatre seats now; something that is novel. I used to lean over away from my seatmate so I didn't infringe on his/her personal space. That's hard on the back for a three-hour stretch!
• I can wear heels comfortably all day now. WOW! I was even able to buy boots with heels, off the rack at a REGULAR shoe store!!! OMG!
• I have had to readjust my seat, mirrors, armrests, etc., in my car to accommodate my new, smaller size.
• I can shop for hours and not get winded; not that I've done any shopping for myself really. My sister took me out and dressed me up but I'm sorta terrified to do it myself. I've no idea where to begin. After 30+ years of shopping at two or three stores exclusively, I do not even know what's popular anymore.
• I had to take off my wedding rings; they were falling off my fingers and I was afraid I would lose them. L
• My shoes are far too large on me. I need new ones for the most part. I never would have thought I would lose weight in my feet. But I truly have.
• My gold necklace hangs much lower on me than it should. I am loathe to shorten the chain (my parents gave me the chain, while Hubby gave me the pendant) but it looks kinda comical now.
• It hurts to sit on a hard chair. This is something I've never really experienced before but as someone who had lots of rear padding, I am really feeling my bones when I sit down on a hard surface. Ouch!
• I've lost somewhere around 65" off my body. I've not calculated it lately, but at last calculation it was 60+ inches. Pretty incredible.
• I am cold… ALL. THE. TIME. Seriously. I spent all summer freezing. I had a folded blanket on my side of the bed on top of the sheet, one blanket, and top cover. Hubby was so warm he'd kick off the bedding while I shivered. He broke down and bought me a heating pad. I think I'm in the market for a heated twin blanket actually. I cannot get warm at all and I sit in my office with a blanket over my lap and a wool sweater over my shirt. Brrr. I am officially going to FREEZE this winter. Guaranteed.
• I'm not quite as self-conscious in public anymore. As a morbidly obese person, you spend your life painfully aware that you take up too much space. And you try as much as possible to avoid shoving your mass in the face of others. It's overwhelming much of the time. It gave me a lot of anxiety. I sense that anxiety is diminishing, but it's being replaced by something else. Instead of thinking, "Oh God, I know everyone is judging me for my huge size," now I think, "Oh my, I hope no one can see the extra skin hanging (in whatever spot is visible at the time)." We definitely ARE our own worst critics. It's terrible. Body dysmorphia is a real thing, and I'm at the stage when I'm just starting to deal with it. Very hard.

There are more. Many, many more. But that's enough for now.

Lots of people have commented on my weight loss and I tell them the truth: I had surgery back in February and I've been working hard ever since. It's not easy. And I'm not done yet. I still have between 30 and 50 lbs that I would like to lose. I'm still technically obese. I want, for once in my life, to see a normal BMI, which for me means being 150 lbs or less.

I've come a long way, but this is just the beginning.

November 6, 1934 — July 29, 2012

At precisely 3:15 a.m., I woke from a sound sleep with a jolt. Within moments, I knew. I just KNEW.

She was gone.

I started to cry silently, quietly to myself. I didn't know what to do, or whom to contact if anyone, at that hour. I just cried, my back to Hubby, as silently as possible, so as not to wake him or Petite.

I didn't sleep much after that. I just waited. And I went through oodles of tissues. I got the confirmation by e-mail from my cousin's wife first. It was a brief message of condolence at my aunt's passing during the night. I was relieved to have some confirmation of my suspicions, because by the time that e-mail arrived, I had been waiting for a number of hours.

That e-mail was quickly followed by a phone call. And then another. And then a third. I heard what I needed to hear. It was over. My cherished aunt had slipped this mortal coil. Quietly. With dignity. In the presence of her youngest sister and my father. At precisely 4:45 a.m. in Newfoundland (or 3:15 for me in Ontario), six weeks of tears and disbelief culminated in my sweet aunt's passing.

I like to think that she came to wake me, passing through to say goodbye one last time. There has been so much that occurred in the month since. I will write about it later when I can gather my thoughts. I've been scattered and I still burst into tears at the smallest things that trigger loving memories.

I refuse to say goodbye. So I will say until we meet again, Aunt B. Know how very much you are loved. And your words and actions have shown over the years how much you loved us.

Wandering Through the Days

It's been about a month since I last posted. I don't know what to say about that month. It's been full of tears and sadness. I've not yet reached that point that I am grateful for the time that I have had with my Aunt B. Although to be sure, I am. But I am still dwelling on the fact that we are about to lose her.

Aunt B is the oldest of the four sisters in my mom's family, and the second oldest of five siblings. She is the one aunt who remained in Newfoundland. My other two aunts moved to the mainland.

She was married; however her husband passed away in the 1980s (I can't recall right now if it was 1982 or 1984... something tells me it was 1982). Her husband had diabetes and I believe died of diabetes-related complications. They had no children, and thereafter, Aunt B pretty much became my second mom. She has always been there.

Aunt B spent many years as a seamstress, toiling over intricate details in so many sewing projects for our family. She showed me the basics of sewing; thanks to her I tackled making my own pyjama pants! I made about five or six different pairs with her help; I wear them sooo often! When I couldn't find a particular nightgown (in a material I was looking for), she took measurements and made me three of them! She sewed a beautiful (Eskimo style) coat for me when I was a young girl. When I was graduating from high school, she made my date's cummerbund and tie from scratch when we couldn't find the colours we wanted in the rental cummerbunds and ties. When I got married, she took apart my wedding dress and took it in as needed, so that it fit me like a glove. In fact, she made my sister's wedding dress from a pattern; it turned out so beautifully! Everyone admired it.

Aunt B did a Pooh Bear baby quilt for Petite before Petite was even born, and after Petite arrived, she made sure to lavish her skills on my little girl. One of the last things she sewed for Petite was an old-fashioned apron, modelled after the one my grandmother used to wear years ago.

And then one month ago, she lost the use of her hands and legs. She has been pretty much bedridden since then, after falling and being unable to get up herself. She has been hospitalized. And we finally know the details.

Colon cancer. Aggressive colon cancer. Which has metastasized in her adrenal glands, lungs, and thyroid, disintegrating the third vertebrae and doing enough damage to the spinal cord that her arms and legs are not very responsive. Surgery isn't really an option; there's no blockage so chemo or radiation might take care of it. However, she is pretty determined not to have treatment at this point in her life. There is the possibility of just giving her enough treatment to make her comfortable and let this run its course... if that is what she wants.

She is still of sound mind, and if that is her decision, we must abide by it. I do not have to like it, but I will wholeheartedly support her choices.

She said to one of the nurses today, "I guess I won't be making Petite any more dresses, will I?" Hearing that cuts deep into my heart. I ache for her. For Petite. For the idea that Petite will not remember her.

The two photos above are the last two that I took of her and Petite together when she was visiting in March this year. I may not get the opportunity to take any more; my "Photo a Day for a Year" project has given me these at least. Last year for Aunt B's birthday in November, I compiled a photo book for her. In it were over 50 photos of her and Petite. My daughter's picture was never far from Aunt B; she would even pull it out at the hairdresser's to show off Petite to anyone who would stop to admire her!

We are trying to get organized to fly down to see her, and say our goodbyes as it seems that her time is growing short. I can only hope we make it in time. So every time I speak with her, I make sure that I tell her that I love her and yes, I will be sure to kiss Petite for her. Every single day.

Damn. I wish things were so different.

Sometimes Prayers Aren't Enough

This month has been heartbreaking for the IF blogosphere. And the hits just keep on coming. I am absolutely gutted by what I read this morning.

As I posted yesterday, Mo's water broke at 23 weeks. She was induced. Unfortunately, Mo lost their beautiful baby boy, Nadav, a long-awaited treasure and miracle.

This community has come together in an outpouring of grief and sadness, as we always do. For although we have never met in person, we are in this together. As Jjiraffe describes us:

The truth is, we are all friends. Real friends, not just “Internet friends.” Even though in most cases we have never met face-to-face, it’s like we are in the same sorority or dorm floor in college. Separated from friends and families, we share our histories (about ALI, instead of the douchey guys my friends and I used to obsess over at University), we listen to each other’s stories, we laugh. And when one of us is hurt, we cry.

So today, we come together to shed tears in the hopes of taking Mo's grief and lessening it by sharing it among all of us.

As I posted on Mo's blog, Nadav, please know how very much you are loved and you will be missed forever.

Alex's Passing (with addendum)

Today, my heart aches. For today, Alex (aka Max) has passed.

I "met" Alex years ago, when I started looking around on the Internet for information about trying to conceive when you have no sperm to work with! There were very few blogs then, and even fewer written from the male point of view, but somehow, I found Max's blog, Dynamo Dad (currently inactive). He talked about having Azoospermia and wanting to have a child with his wife, Vee. And in his words, I found comfort. I read about his journey for awhile before I started reading Vee's blog, The Sweet Life (currently password protected). And then, after more time had passed, I began writing this blog. And I got to know Alex and Vee, and came to share in their story.

Vee and Alex had begun TTC in November 2005 with their first IUI. And as we all know, the journey goes on and on. But for Vee and Alex, there was a helluva bump in the road; Alex was diagnosed with cancer in February 2008. He was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer, Leiomyosarcoma. It did not respond to treatment... at least, not well enough. And so they wondered if they ought to continue their journey to build a family.

The decision was made to do so, and as luck would have it, Vee and I cycled at the same time in November/December 2008. We both got VERY lucky and got BFPs. Our due date was the same, August 25, 2009. Vee and I took comfort that there was someone going through exactly what the other was going through at the exact same time. We have gone through our pregnancies together. We sent each other gifts and cards. We e-mailed each other for support and with questions. I sent them a "hope" care package at one point, simply because I was thinking of them and praying for them. We kept up to date with each other's birth story for the babies when that happened last August, and since then, we have watched our children hit milestones together. Their little boy Doudou is so beautiful; there's too much cuteness to behold! I get to see the wonderful photos that Vee uploads to Facebook and I get to smile at the family that they have built together.

And yet, all along, the cancer continued to ravage Alex's body.

There was doubt that Alex would be alive to greet their baby. And when he was able to be there, I rejoiced for them.

They wondered if Alex would be able to share the baby's first Christmas. And when he was able to be there, we rejoiced.

They hoped Alex would be there to celebrate the new year and the changing of the seasons. And he has been there. And we rejoiced.

They wished for Alex to be there to celebrate their first Easter, and when he was, we rejoiced.

And all along the cancer continued to wreak havoc on Alex's fragile body.

Over the last few months, Vee and Alex discussed Alex's final wishes. A little while ago, they had to modify their home to accommodate Alex's needs. Vee reached out to her friends to help her at home, for Alex could no longer be left alone. And Vee wept with grief, knowing that there was no coming out of this. And we all wept alongside her for the downturn was evident.

And yesterday, Alex took a turn for the worse and Vee watched him gasp for every breath. And we cried alongside them. Vee asked that he not be afraid. And my heart broke for her and their family and for their little boy.

Today, I have just learned that Alex has passed. The tears roll down my cheeks for I wish their little boy could grow up knowing his daddy. I wish Vee didn't have to say goodbye to her husband. As she says, they were meant to grow old together. I cannot fathom the grief they feel today. I wish things were different. I wish for so much... and yet, none of it will come true.

So instead, I wish for peace. I know that Alex feels no more pain. I know that one day, he will see Vee and their little boy again. I wish Vee comfort, in knowing that we all share her grief and we support her. I wish them love. I hope that the memories of her beautiful Alex will live on. I know that their baby boy will hear about how very much his daddy loved him.

And still I shed tears, for life has not dealt them a fair hand. They deserved more than this. We all do.

Grief marks us today, but it will not mark us forever. We shall move on and rejoice in the fact that we knew Alex at all. And one day, when Petite gets to meet their little boy, and I get to hug Vee in person (I will make that happen), I will raise a glass with her in Alex's name. For he is a wonderful man, a strong man, a beautiful person, a doting father and loving husband.

Alex, may you rest in peace and may God hold you in the palm of his hand until one day, your family is with you again. Watch over them and keep them close, just as we pray for your safekeeping and peace. We love you Alex. God bless and Godspeed.

Addendum

Before his passing, Max asked Vee to convey that in lieu of flowers, donations should be made to the Rainbows For Kate Foundation in his memory. I will certainly be doing that myself, as obviously being in Canada, I cannot attend the memorial in Australia on Friday morning. But you can be certain that is exactly where my thoughts and my spirit will be...