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I have been meaning to post this picture of Brian. I have gone back and forth in my mind whether I should. Most always he put on his game face and confronted the beast head on. But with it being Melanoma Awareness Month, I thought I would share this picture with you. It is very emotional for me to see this picture, yet it puts a face on the suffering caused by melanoma. Recently I read of someone (not the first time I've heard it) that said...we all have to die of something (in response to the tanning bed/sunscreen issue). True, so true; but I wouldn't wish this suffering on anyone. This picture was taken on the day after this past Thanksgiving. Brian had been home only a few days after an 11 day stay in the hospital when he was battling the staph infection. I knew he was worn out then. I think I knew he was ready for peace. But he kept going because he wanted our life. I will always love him for that, for sacrificing himself for the chance for a future together. I am glad we stopped fighting the cancer when we did so he had a break from all the appointments and doctors and hospitals. He wanted to stop in September, but he kept on. I told him we could stop; he said he wanted us to always know how much he wanted to beat this, and always wanted Tye and the girls and his parents and Todd to know how hard he fought. I think of all he put himself through, all that I encouraged him to endure, and I have some regret in selfishly ignoring the inevitable. I regret that his quality of life might have been better. I have had the chance to clear my head a little, and I have looked back and realize that I did not help him manage his pain like I should have. I think I was in denial for so long on how bad his condition was getting. Even in the days before going to the hospital in November before this picture, when he was so sick, I prodded him to eat, I got him to try a standing frame to strengthen his legs. I did not see because I didn't want to see. And I regret so much that this surely did cause him some additional pain. Images flash in my head of dragging him on and off the airplane, trying to get to Chicago. I think of the day I realized he no longer had control of his body enough to help me help him...he slipped from my arms to the ground at the parking lot at the hospital, and a few people came from out of no where to help us. I told him I was proud of him. I told him we should stop. But he kept on, even after the staph infection, he took yet another treatment.

I think that is why when he begged me on Christmas Eve not to take him to the hospital, I felt I owed him this respect. Maybe it is why I spent every last ounce of energy and then some to care for him. He had done his part, and now I had to do mine. I often worried that this would suck the life out of me, and I think that is what I wanted actually. The life I had was indeed sucked away from me. I would not have been able to live with myself if I had not given all that I had and all that I was to care for him and love him. I promised Brian over and over again that I would take care of him. And in the end, I truly believe he knew I was there and making sure he would be ok. And I don't take all the credit for that, it took a loving family and great friends to support us and be a part of this too. As heartwrenching as it was, I would not have been anywhere else. And the moments after he left me, I felt a tremendous amount love, and it was that moment that I knew I had done what I had promised God and Brian I would do, I had succeeded in loving him unconditionally, with a deep committment; and I felt that love from him too. And I realized that our love was much stronger than any cancer could ever be.

If you don't love your significant other that much, you should seriously rethink your relationship and figure out how to get there. Because as awful as I feel, how much Brian and I love each other outweighs it all...