Saturday, May 28, 2005

8:30 p.m.

 

Today has been difficult. How many times have I said these words? I have just asked myself what is being accomplished when writing about this experience. There are so many uncertainties and fears that seem to come out of nowhere.

 

Linda mentioned something in her journal that struck me. She stated that the world would not stop for her. She simply wanted to live. Her hopes and dreams were the same as yours and mine. We both wanted to grow old together.

 

Why do I keep writing about this? What started out as a simple journal has taken on a life of its own. I now realize why I continue to tell others this story. It is not for the purpose of pursuing a career as a writer in order to achieve success at the expense of losing Linda. It is not for notoriety when it comes to telling the story of Linda's battle, and my resulting grief. It's not for the purpose of bringing a chuckle or two to people who read the satire I write. It is not for the purpose of impressing anyone with my poetry. The reason I write is because Linda wasn't just a statistic. She did matter. Because we have become accustomed to death and dying all around us, Linda's name was in danger of just being someone mentioned in passing as another victim to the number one killer called Cancer. Millions die everyday, and so many people are being duped into believing a cure is being sought. We are so naive as a society and world. I have swamp land outside Vegas if anyone believes this.

 

So many tears are shed everyday by people who have lost someone, and the people grieving feel lost. How many people simply blend in as a statistic after they die? Far too many. As a society, we reason that everyone has to die sometime. What a casual approach we take to death, without realizing the impact the loss has on those who are left behind. Certain individuals have read what I have written, and how many have put a time limit on my grief? People don't mean to, but the words I write can make people feel uncomfortable.

 

I write in memory of Linda. I write because I loved her and still do. For some people, she has become someone who has fallen between the cracks. It was challenging reading when telling of her battle with cancer, but now that she is gone, her memory has faded into the distance. I can also be perceived as just one more grieving husband among many. I am not just another husband who misses his wife. God knows this. No one reading this is just a number. We all have hopes and dreams, and because mine have been shattered, my hopes and dreams have been temporarily put on hold. In honor of Linda, I will continue to write about her. Poetry is my way of dealing with emotions I cannot express verbally, and understand. Satire is my way of making light of unfounded fears of the future.

 

This is a hell unlike any other. No greater grief can be felt until you lose someone. By not knowing Linda and I, except by reading of her battle with cancer, and now explaining the grief I feel, has anyone really known either one of us. We were a couple who had a wakeup call as to how fragile life really is. We became very close as a husband and wife. For the love we had to be ripped apart, was the cruelest and deadliest outcome cancer could have possibly accomplished.

 

I simply loved Linda with all my heart. Now that she is no longer with me, all I can do is to let everyone know she wasn't just another 54-year-old victim. This is why I have shared her journal with others. This is why I will continue to write and dedicate my life in honor of her memory.