What I want my kids to always remember

Kyle's shots worked!  He had chemo this week and then he

had more shots.  It was a long, hard week. He felt particularly

bad. Particularly tired and run down and not so super great.

I had my first math test of the semester this week

....it was ALMOST like I had chemo and shots. 

And I certainly cried more than Kyle during the whole process.

At one point Josh came upstairs and asked "test going 

that good huh?"

What can I say?

I seriously just hate math.

As much (if not more) than Kyle hates chemo.  And shots.

And this leads me to the point of my blog post.

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Here is something I want my kids to always remember about 

their dad.

I find that oftentimes when people die, afterwards, they

are somehow transformed into these people who were perfect,

without flaw.

I want my kids to know their dad DID have flaws.

"Skeletons in the closet" like they say.  Such that when

one throws open the closet door, one flings their arm up

to cover their eyes.  The mess inside the closet is

enough to make your turn your head to the side and quickly

shut the door.

Now please don't think I'm disparaging my husband, because

I'm not.

Open MY closet door?  Same thing....old pile of skeletons

best left dying inside.

I double dog dare any of you reading this blog to tell me

you have no such skeletons and are perfect human beings.

And if you are?  Good on you.  

My point is none of us are perfect human beings (for the most

part) and I find it laughable when people die we only 

remember the good stuff.  Maybe that's what death does though,

it trims out all the bad stuff so we are left with peace.

But I think that there is always bad stuff, and 

hard stuff and painful stuff that we must work through

when someone leaves us.  Even if it's just the pain at

being left behind.  That is some mighty hard stuff to

work through.

Such is life.  Such is life.

BUT, here is where I want to talk about some good stuff.

And Kyle's not dead yet, which is especially good stuff.

He likes to remind me of that all the time when I let

a tear or two slide thinking about the future.

I hear you Kyle.

This week was at one point supposed to be Kyle's "OFF"

(chemo) week.   His darn old white blood cells messed all

of that up so it was now his "on" week.

It's hard enough living life in 2 month increments like

we've been told to do, it's even HARDER to have "off" weeks

become "on" weeks when you make plans in your life with 

cancer.

So "off" became "on" and tickets that were purchased MONTHS

ago (so far back that I remember thinking at the time "I wonder

if Kyle will even be alive in 9 months when this (event) comes."  

Please don't hate me for thinking that.

Sadly, this is how one thinks when your husband has terminal

cancer, knowing that things can change with the blink

of an eyelash.

9 months came and Kyle was still here, doing pretty darn 

good despite everything.  

And now he had a choice to make.  He was hooked up to 

chemo, laying on the couch.

He was tired, in pain, literally wiped out and aching.

He felt sick, he felt like he always feels the day of chemo...

...he felt like curling up in his bed with a blanket and

laying down and sleeping for hours.  

And then figuratively dying a little bit.

I told him we could find someone else to go.

I was not that person since homework consumes my every

evening for hours on end.

---------------------------------

He groaned and got up and said he was going.

And he went.  And he smiled.

He took Eliza (who is somehow NOT pictured) and Olivia

to Katy Perry for Lizzie's birthday.  He went and sat and

had a good time with his girls.

He wanted them to remember.

Exactly what I always want them to remember.

That no matter HOW bad, or sick, or down, or tired,

or miserable he has been.  He keeps getting up and 

going.

He told me he wants his kids to remember a dad who

pushed through the hard times and tried.

He wants them to remember a dad who got up and kept going.

He wants them to remember a dad who didn't give up.

He wants them to know he did it, all of it, because he

loves them and wants to be here with them for as long

as possible.

And he wants to do it on two feet, in between rests on 

the bed, for as long as he can.

And THIS, this is what I want my kids to always remember

about their dad.

To remember him in this way, mixed in among ANY of 

the bad stuff, is THIS.

This good stuff.

He is an amazing example of courage and strength.

He is amazing example of getting up when he only wants to

lay down some days.

He is an amazing example because love is motivating him

to keep going.

He is not perfect.  He never has been.  

But he wants to make memories with you kids while he can

and is willing to overcome any odds against him.

That?  That makes me love him in a way beyond description.

That?  That makes my heart proud to know him.

That?  That's what I've got for today.