Monday, January 23, 2012


I met a woman last week who had been a colleague of Steve's. She hugged me tight and told me that she loved Steve. That everyone loved Steve.

Never underestimate the power of kind words.


We've lived without Steve for almost two and a half years. And yet there are little moments when I somehow forget.

Like today, when I was grocery shopping, and I spied Spicy Hot V8, which Steve loved to drink. For a tiny second, I thought, "I should buy some of that. I haven't in a while." And then, of course, I remembered that no one in the house drinks Spicy Hot V8 anymore.

So I took a photo ...

and headed straight for the floral department, where I bought myself some roses.

Today that seemed the logical thing to do.


One of Katie's sweet first-grade friends played at our house Saturday. I was downstairs, they were upstairs, but their conversation was clear.

Katie showed her friend something.

"That was my Dad's," she said.

Her friend, in reply, "You don't have a dad."

Katie, without drama, just the facts, "Yes I do! Everyone has a dad. Mine died. But I have a dad."

Katie and Steve, October 2008, eight months after diagnosis

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