Marlys Johnson Lawry

Hubby referred to himself as a realist. But he was really a pessimist, this cautious man with his strong, analytical, computer-programmer brain. Whenever I came up with a brilliant idea—which was quite often—he was quick to point out everything that could possibly go wrong.

Hubby: “What if (fill in the blank) happens?”

Me: “But what if it doesn’t?”

We made a great team. He kept me thinking realistically about his cancer; I encouraged him to live well with cancer and plan beyond the ‘due date’ projected by the doctor.

Which means this thought from Robert Brault resonates with me:

An optimist is someone who figures that taking a step backward after taking a step forward is not a disaster, it’s more like a cha-cha.

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I used my widow card the other day. But it must have expired. Because it didn’t work. Maybe I should quit using my situation as a means of manipulation, or as an excuse, ya think?

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This text from Daughter Summer a couple weeks ago: “I’m playing around with the idea of going to an adoption conference in Seattle. I was wondering if you’d be available to meet me there and hang out.”

A twelve-hour, round-trip drive — alone — over mountain passes to Seattle from Oregon — in winter — is probably a little on the impractical side.

Taking the ferry  from Seattle to Bainbridge Island

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On our last road trip together — through Yellowstone down into Colorado and the orange canyons of southern Utah — Hubby was watching for wildlife.

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I, on the other hand, was watching for barns.

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If you could simplify your life, would you? I don’t know who Mark Buchanan is, but apparently he knows me. Because I’m pretty sure he wrote this about me:

I cannot think of a single advantage I’ve ever gained from being in a hurry. But a thousand broken and missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all the rushing … Through all that haste I thought I was making up time. It turns out I was throwing it away.

 

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I didn’t know I was marrying the most thoughtful and kind man in the world. I didn’t know he would keep me laughing until the end. I didn’t know he’d always put me and the kids first.

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Always.

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With love in the air and roses on sale for $25 per dozen and Valentine’s Day looming up ahead, this question:

Would you still marry your spouse if you knew you would walk beside him/her with aching heart as they endured cancer treatment; loss of appetite, loss of weight; became childlike before taking a final breath sooner — oh, so much sooner — than you had imagined? Would you still marry?

Of course you would. Because the sweet years with your husband, your wife would be worth the pain of loss.

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When Hubby was first diagnosed, we asked about diet and exercise. “That’s like closing the barn door after the horse has gotten out,” said one oncologist (not the oncologist we ended up hiring).

One urologist said, “I heard lycopene is good for prostate cancer, and tomatoes have lycopene, so you might want to eat more tomatoes.”

“Good,” said Hubby out of earshot of the doctor. “I’ll add more tomatoes to my Big Macs and I’ll be just fine.”

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My adult children encouraged me to get back into public speaking. But Hubby and I had always told our story together and I was somewhat fearful to present alone. What if no one laughed at the humor?

And then an invitation last week to speak to nursing students. Who laughed in all the right places. (And I may have made a couple of them cry, which wasn’t very nice of me.)

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Daughter Summer is losing her playfully-sarcastic edge. Last week I sent her this text: “Today I moved my wedding ring to my right hand.”

Summer: “Wow. Big step.”

I’m not sure who this girl is. The daughter I know would have shot back with something like: “Does this mean I’m getting a new dad?!”

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