New reality or not, one thing remains constant between April 5, 2017 and today: giving up is out of the question. We, and now just me, had and have no choice but to keep moving forward, keep making plans and finding a way to live around the stress or the heartache. On April 5, 2017 that meant running around with the kids for their after school activities and talking house renovation projects.
I’m sure Matt and I were stressed and afraid and constantly thinking about what was happening in his head on this day a year ago. There’s no screenshot or picture proof, though. Maybe we weren’t worried at all because we were wildly confident. I don’t know. But I do know that Matt didn’t fail to get out of bed, go to work, and worry about the paint color we’d chosen for the front entry.
In my eulogy, I told the crowd of more than 500 mourners that Matt fought his disease with grace. But what does that look like really? Sometimes it looked like cracking jokes in a waiting room; sometimes it looked like letting a nurse wheel you into an OR without an ounce of fear showing on your face. And sometimes it looked like engaging in the trivial day-to-day details that make up living, even when you have every reason to hide under the covers.
April 5, 2017 does not stand out in my mind just as I’m sure next year April 5, 2018 will not stand out in my mind. I’ll be able to guess at the grief, I’ll look back through my pictures and maybe vaguely remember what the kids and I did. The only thing I’ll know for sure is I woke up, got out of bed, and moved forward with the day.