December, 2004

Dear Friends and Relatives,

I beg your forgiveness for not having thanked you sooner for your cards and letters, prayers, and donations for Gloryann. I also wanted to thank those of you who came to her services, and for all the other help and support extended to me and Glo earlier this year. I put it off so long that it made sense to just wait and combine my thank you's with Christmas greetings. So, here it is: Thank you very much for your support this year and, Seasons Greetings and Best Wishes for a Happy New Year!

Now that task's checked off my list! I'm assuming that some of you may not even be aware that she passed away or, if you were not close by may want to know more about her last months and so the rest of this letter will attempt to do that. Also, it will be, I think, somewhat cathartic for me to write down the words and put some closure to this year's sad events.

Glo loved to be with family and friends during the holidays, so I know that some of you receiving this letter may be missing her now especially. For me, it's the first Christmas in over twenty years that I don't have her so there is definitely a void. However, I'm so very grateful that she was able to be have these last three holiday seasons. I know almost with certainty that if she had not gotten the care she did, and if she had not had that indomitable spirit and drive, she would not have made it to the end of 2001, much less to April of 2004.

When she was diagnosed with lung cancer in November of 2000, she was already at Stage IV of the disease. Other women we knew did not make it six months against this same, horrible affliction, so the three and a half years she got was a blessing not only to her, but to her friends and relatives as well as to me. It gave her time to see her nephew and nieces grow up three more years and to give them the chance to know her; time to give her friends, colleagues, relatives, dad, and sibs another 3 yrs of her gentle companionship and sound counsel; time to give her students another 3 yrs of her help; and time to give me another 3 yrs of her unconditional love and understanding. In the end, although it was the hardest job I've ever had, I will value the experience of taking care of her as a privilege for it gave me the time to finally understand who she really was, and time to learn what we really meant to each other.

In March of 2003 she retired from the Kenai School District after 26 years. That summer was a fine one in Alaska and she enjoyed it as best she could. My niece, Gina, and her family came up in July from Denver and we had a wonderful time together. In September, we flew to Denver for my 40th High School Reunion. I was really proud to have her with me there. In the photo below from the reunion, she "Glo'ed" through her weakness and discomfort. We also took a side trip down to Amarillo to see my niece Lisa and her family. After we returned to Anchorage, Glo was given a special graduation ceremony at the University of Alaska, School of Education, for having completed her Masters Degree program. The picture from that is included below, too, and you can see how proud she is to have accomplished that goal. In December, we both went to Michigan for Christmas and New Year's. Then in January we went directly to Parker Hughes Clinic in Minnesota to find out what her 2004 treatment options were to be.

If it had been just the lung cancer that she had had to deal with, she would perhaps still be with us; unfortunately, the brain metastases we thought she'd licked in 2001 had been making a comeback. The prognosis from her oncologist when we got to Minnesota was grim and there were no more treatment options. We returned to Anchorage to try to make her end of life as comfortable as possible. Hope springs eternal, of course, and Gloryann would have tried anything. We searched the Internet for any possibility that might give a glimmer of hope, but the blood/brain barrier is a formidable obstacle to treatment for the fast-moving cancer that was taking over her brain.

There really was nothing left to try-- reality sunk in and she finally accepted the inevitable. At this time she could still walk with help and we celebrated our birthdays with a big, expensive dinner with our best friends, Bob and Mary Humphrey and Mark and Carol Barnhill. But by the end of January she needed a walker, then a wheelchair. By the middle of February she could no longer stand alone, feed herself, or brush her teeth. By the end of the month she was becoming bedridden. By March I needed help from home health care workers in the mornings and afternoons. Between the aides during the day and me before and after work, Glo's needs were met and she was comfortable and pain-free. She said she wanted to make it to spring, at least.

Despite her physical limitations, she could still talk and enjoyed visits from friends. In addition, Sister Barb or Father Gary from Holy Family Church here in Anchorage came in weekly to give her communion, and Father Gary performed the Sacrament of Anointing. Her massage therapist and cranial-sacral chiropractor were also regular guests. She couldn't read by herself, but until the end she liked for me to read to her.

We had a lot of conversations about our twenty years together--the ups and downs, the joys and disappointments. When she thought about the last three years-of all the traveling, all the money it had cost, all the pain and suffering, inconvenience, and sadness--she wondered if it was worth it. Wouldn't it have been better for everyone if she had just done nothing? If she had just let nature take its course?

But I reminded her of the nieces and nephews, her dad, her sisters and brother and, of me. I told her I was selfish, but I was really glad for the three years we got. That it had been an" honor" for me to have known her and that I was blessed that she had let me be her husband. I told her that she was the best thing that had ever happened to me. She stopped me then, and said, "Nathan, you're the best thing to happen to me, too. Thank you for being my husband. I love you. My only regrets are that we didn't do more, take more trips, have more fun, and worry less." Then she told me not to be sad, to move on, and to do things--for her. She promised she'll always be with me. On April 14 she stopped swallowing. By the 17th, could no longer talk, but would answer questions by raising her eyebrows and closing her eyes. On the morning of April 19, she quietly slipped away, a full month into spring, 2004.

I've taken her advice and started to move on. And, whether in Europe, which I visited in September, or in Costa Rica where I went earlier this month, not a day goes by that I don't think of her and sense that she's there.

Life is too short a gift--don't wait to open it. Make 2005 the best year of your life. No regrets.

Costa Rica Canopy Tour, December, 2005