Anniversaries

Today is a double anniversary for us. The first is a happy anniversary - September 13, 2005 is when we moved into our house here in Kohler. We were so excited. We didn't have any furniture here yet. We left Rachel with my parents, packed up a futon and blankets, and we came down to wait for the movers. We were kid free and furniture free - boy was it a fun night. We figured out something to do. And now we have Jake.

September 13, 2006 is the day that Jim was diagnosed with cancer. We couldn't believe it when they told us. Right up until they spelled it out for us, we never once imagined cancer. We really didn't have any reason to, and I don't think any doctor would have guessed it either. We were stunned. And it felt like we got everything we ever wanted, but we only got it for one year.

Too bad cancer - we still have everything. We still have love, family, friendship, and each other. I hate you cancer. I HATE YOU. But I would rather eat my foot than let you win. You don't get to beat us. We beat you because we still have it all and even after Jim's gone, we'll STILL have it all because of the person that Jim is - he will live forever.

It's an emotional day for me. Janet and I are reading a couple of books on death. The books all mention that people can indicate that it is close to their time to go. They tell some sort of a story that includes a journey, finishing something, arriving at a destination...that kind of thing. The book my mom and dad sent, called Final Gifts, gives fairly specific instructions on how to talk to someone who is dying, because often times they are trying to communicate something and family members just blow it off thinking the patient is over medicated or having hallucinations.

Well, last night at 2:30 am he said something to me. He was buzzing his chair up and down (I gave him about 5 minutes of constant buzzing) and I finally asked him if he was okay.
Jim: Yes, I'm fine - why?
me: Well, you seem uncomfortable.

Jim: I'm not uncomfortable, I'm trying to finish something.
me: Finish what? {Rising panic}{Mental note, Kate - don't blow off what he says because there might be a hidden message}

Jim: I need to finish my jokes.
me: What jokes? Who are you going to tell them to?

Jim: I don't know...but I like an audience.

By this time I'm pretty much upset. I sat with him and cried. He does like an audience. He tells great jokes. And as a kid, he loved to put on magic shows and tell jokes for his family and friends. The first person I thought of was his pastor as a kid, Jack. Jim used to tell Jack so many jokes that Jack actually mentioned it during our wedding ceremony. And better yet, Jack told Jim a joke. During the ceremony. Pretty cool.

I don't know what this whole conversation meant. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was ramblings from a guy who is really, really tired. This morning I talked to my friends Susan and Judy about it and Judy pointed out that we read What to Expect When You're Expecting with a grain of salt. She's right. Maybe I'm getting too literal at this point and over thinking things. {No, not you, Kate, you're completely rational and would never over think anything...}

I'm teary and emotional today. We're all tired - Janet's been working with Jake and the house 24/7; Jim Sr. has nearly completed the basement in record time; and I'm flapping around barely able to remember my name, trying to figure out if I'm emotionally scarring Rachel for life. It's nonstop fun here. But at the same time, we are having happy moments. It's just harder to absorb them on a day like today.

Two anniversaries today, and Jim's working on his jokes performance. I have no idea what this all means. We could have months, weeks, or days left with Jim. But if he's dreaming of and talking about jokes, I'm good with that. Jim will always have an audience that loves and adores him.