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I remember some time back when I would be sitting at the computer reading and writing on this site. I would never come in the grieving section, because I frankly couldn't deal with it. I'm amazed at those who are fighting who do come here to offer support. And I thank you. This is the creepy bit. I remember sitting here, with Bill downstairs or in the next room, or even here next to me. I would think, "there's potentially going to come a time when I'm sitting here, Bill is gone, and I AM in the grieving section." It freaked me out then, and it's kind of doing it now. Perhaps because I've been reading Bill's old posts -- when we were just starting the fight. We had hope, despite the odds. I SO hoped to never be hanging out "down" in the grieving section, but I'm so thankful it's here. Did anyone else do this? I think I'm still struggling with the finality of it all. I do okay -- pretty good actually -- when I live in the moment. The minute I allow "the future" to worm it's way in, POW! It hits me -- Bill is GONE. I know I'll see him when I pass -- I KNOW it. I know he's alive and with God in his HEALTHY body. But I won't ever share a cup of coffee with him on our patio, I won't hear him call Mrs. Dickens in that silly voice he'd use, I won't get another birthday card, we won't get to do all those things we wanted to do together. That sucks. Sorry to be depressing on a Sunday night...

I'm grateful for my wonderful church family. I'm also grateful that the dark moments are just that -- moments. And they do pass.

It's been just a little longer for me losing my beautiful hubby. I can so relate to the "I think I'm still in shock that it's forever." I went through major feelings about that today. You know, I think it takes a long time before that reality truly sinks in. But that life growing inside you -- how precious it is! Thinking of you,

Peachy, Bill had just 10 sessions of WBR. He did lose his hair. It took a couple weeks for that to happen. He felt unsteady on his feet, but I'm not sure if that was the WBR or the steroids. Other than that, no obvious side-effects. Wishing you the best,

I'm grateful that as I was looking through a drawer just a couple minutes ago, I came upon a ring box made in the shape of a long-stemmed rose. You guessed it, the "rose" Bill gave me when he proposed as we were walking across the Golden Gate Bridge.

Randy and Ginny, Both of your words so expressed two things I've been thinking. Randy, I love the memory box idea. A friend of mine who also lost her husband said that she started putting their family albums into memory books -- choosing the best pics, writing about the times, etc. And that it helped to not see him as ill anymore. I loved that idea and thought it would be a great winter project (winter in Southern California -- go ahead and laugh, but it gets cold sometimes!) Ginny, what you expressed I'm also feeling in that I'm really feeling pulled back into my photography, which along with writing, is my main creative outlet. (As well as wanting to finish the house, which I'm not so good at.) I did absolutely nothing creative as soon as the diagnosis came, although I had been scheduled to go on a big photography workshop down in Mexico -- I chose to cancel that, and Bill was SO upset about it, but he understood there was no way I could leave. He was without question my biggest cheerleader. Now I know he would want me to dig back in and use the grief in my creativity for a purpose. Thanks for your input, because you're both people I always respect so much on here in how you help others and how you use your grief and heartache for the positive. And even anger can be used for positive, because I felt anger last week and once I let it out, it was one of the main things that drove me to start to taking these steps. Hugs & blessings,

Tonight I took two small steps in an attempt to move forward. Rather than making me feel I was moving away from Bill, they made me feel we were moving forward together in our respective new places. I felt him nudging me. I felt him close. I felt stronger and determined. It's been a tough week. I went back to work last week, and it went okay. But I over-extended myself in multiple ways throughout last week, the weekend, and early this week. Had a major melt-down on Monday, and struggled through the week. But it was a good thing. Or rather, a necessary thing. The two things I did were to take down the sympathy cards and birthday cards (and father's day cards) that were all over the living room, and are still coming in the mail. And replace them with the family photos that used to occupy the space. The other thing I did was to put away a comforter he had been using, which I had been keeping on top of our bed -- I thought it would bring me comfort. It never actually did, because he wasn't in it. I guess by these two small steps, I felt one step closer to reclaiming my (our) house as a home, which it has not felt like at all since Bill has been gone. I don't want to continue to focus on his death in outward ways (with the cards, etc.), I want to "feel" and respect his life and the life we shared. He put his blood, sweat and tears into this house -- literally -- and I realized today that it was up to ME to make it a home again. It wasn't just going to happen. (Pics are still all over the dining room though, and I still want them there -- one step at a time...) Thanks for listening.

Paula, I'm so sorry for the loss of your mom.

I am grateful that I'm just starting to see my house as a home again (with Bill's nudge).

Karen, Add me to the prayer chain for your dad... Stay strong and keep your hopes high.

Sonia, Wishing you a beatiful weekend and a special family time. I'll be doing something similar shortly too. Hugs,

I'm grateful for my friend Meg, who left me home-cooked dinner in my frig for when I got home today. I'm also grateful that she comes to check on my Mrs. Dickens during the day when I'm at work.

Bobby, No answers for you -- I'm sorry for the latest developments. You tell Bev to stay strong and get some rest. Saying a prayer for you both tonight... Hugs,

Randy -- cute puppy! I talk to him CONSTANTLY! Hugs,

Anyone else do this? When I'm faced with choices lately, I keep choosing the option that I think would make Bill the most proud of me -- which is always the "strong" option, of course. Not necessarily the "easy" option I might ordinarily choose, especially now. Bill never took the easy way, unless it was the best way. Yesterday I volunteered to take responsibility of my church newsletter -- I thought, Bill will be proud of me. I decided NOT to chicken-out and go ahead and rent a car in the U.K. when I go next month with his ashes -- I can imagine Bill saying (assuming I don't cause a head-on collision), "You did it -- I told you you'd be fine!" Even little things, like just accepting invitations -- I think, "Bill would be happy I'm getting out." Does it make it easier? Probably not. But I seem to be getting a true sense of satisfaction and strength knowing he would be happy and proud of me (even though the thought brought me to tears yesterday). Maybe it makes me feel like we're still in this together and he's cheering me on, I don't know. My faith is rock solid. I know where Bill is, but I can't say that I know he can see me. I love the idea of a Heavenly DVR, but that's pretty selfish on my part. As if he has nothing better to do than check what I'm eating for breakfast. Yet, somehow I have to believe that he at least gets the "headline news" of our lives. Am I nuts? Even if I am, it seems to help me maintain forward motion.

Thinking of you, Cindy. This will be one of those "firsts" everyone keeps talking about. You will get through it, but let yourself feel whatever it is you need to feel. I hope your surgery goes well.

Happy Birthday, Joanie... With love,

I am grateful for my church, which has become like "home." I'm also grateful for my great-niece Sophia who can make me smile no matter what.

Hi Peachy, I love your picture! I hesitate to respond, because I don't feel qualified. Yet I feel compelled to say something. My husband had sclc. He knew something was seriously wrong a couple months prior to his diagnosis (probably even longer than that). He had been to the doctor twice (not something he would normally do). She was negligent enough not to order an x-ray. We had a vacation planned to visit family in Europe. Something we had really been looking forward to. His third trip to the doctor and subsequent diagnosis came very shortly after that. He was VERY happy to have gone on the trip. And wouldn't have traded it for anything. And he was grateful that he didn't have the diagnosis prior to the trip. But... that was only a 3-week trip. Once he was diagnosed, he fought with everything he had. And I'm grateful he did, because we shared wonderful times together and both experienced live changing events. There are so many NSCLC survivors on this board who are so inspiring and are thriving in remission or being stable. I pray that you will become one of those.

Ginny, Thank you for sharing those intimate thoughts. Your posts have really helped me, one of the new ones, here. I am so sorry that you lost the love of your life. I'm so grateful to you for wanting to share that there is joy to be found -- just a different kind. And that you never stop missing Earl. Of course you don't, and I'm certain you never will.

Anne, I understand -- I struggle with that when speaking and writing, and I notice that I flip back and forth. The first time I used the past tense, I felt a sense of horror, and betrayal. When referring to our bedroom, sometimes I say "our room," and other times I say "my room." I prefer to say "our room." No easy answers, but I understand.

Sheri, I know your dad fought so hard. Now he's resting, but the void is huge, I know. I'm so sorry.

The other night I looked through digital pictures of the past year. I also looked at a couple silly videos taken with the digital camera. Bill and our granddaughter Annabelle. And Bill and my step-son Michael. I'm grateful for technology that not only allows me to see Bill, but hear him and really remember those times. I'm also grateful to have my Internet back.

I'm so sorry to hear about your beautiful daughter. So, so sorry.

I am grateful for Bill and all of the solid advice he always gave me. Not that I always followed it before, but I'm trying hard now. I'm grateful for being married to a man who truly wanted the best for me, no matter what. It's making me stronger and keeping me in "survival mode" rather than "poor me" mode (most of the time, anyway). And I'm grateful for the beautiful people on this site who lovingly show us that everybody hurts and there is always someone who is carrying a heavier burden, but is still willing to help.