Love

Friday morning Katie and I were spending special time together before her gymnastics class.

We were reading a Disney version of Tarzan when she placed her hand on my arm and said, "Mommy, I need to cuddle with you because I'm sad that Daddy died, and you have lots of Daddy's love in you."

Katie as Tinkerbell and Cooper as Davy Crockett -- both filled with lots of Daddy love

Steve's birthday: New time

Steve's 41st birthday is next Wednesday, Nov. 4.

We're remembering the awesome Superman Steve with a balloon release at our neighborhood park and hope you can join us.

Here's the problem. Last week I told you we'd gather at 6 p.m. But sunset will be about 5:30 p.m. because of the end of Daylight Savings Time.

So, we need to gather at 5:15 p.m. instead. I'm really sorry if this excludes folks who are driving to Frisco after work.

We'll have note cards available at the park, in case you want to write a note to attach to your balloon. And we hope to have one balloon per person. This will be more easily achieved if I have an idea of who is coming.

If you think you'll be able to attend the little celebration in honor of Steve, please e-mail me at tyradamm@gmail.com.

• 5:15 p.m. Wednesday, Nov. 4
• Playground/park at the corner of Hunters Creek and Hidden Creek, Frisco

Grief bursts

Valerie, the hospice grief counselor who visits in our home every other week, often talks about grief bursts -- moments that overwhelm us.

The past week was filled with grief bursts around here.

***

I've learned that seemingly "easy" Steve-related tasks are best performed with a loved one nearby. A couple of weeks ago I was alone when I picked up copies of death certificates from the county office.

I was not prepared for how difficult it would be to see the cause of death, time, date, location, etc., in print. After I picked up the 20 copies, I hurried out of the office, sat in the minivan and sobbed, taking care to not get the official documents damp -- I don't want to make a return visit unless absolutely necessary.

Since then I've asked for help. Tuesday, for example, I filed for Social Security survivor benefits at the McKinney field office. Melane was able to meet me there, providing great comfort as I answered straightforward yet still-emotional facts about Steve's life and death.

Monday morning I'll have Liz and Zena by my side as I answer questions before a judge during a brief probate hearing at the Denton County Courthouse.

***

Just after I got home from the Social Security outing Tuesday, my laptop computer completely failed -- at the same time I was expected to log in to the Dallas Morning News system to begin an editing-from-home shift.

I tried all my old tricks, and nothing worked.

My usual backup plan is to use Steve's laptop. His was a work-issued computer, though, and is no longer here.

My next backup is our aging desktop computer. It no longer connects to our wireless network, though -- something that Steve was expert at fixing.

When I called Nicole to tell her that I would be unable to work, I burst into tears. Steve would have been able to help me find a solution, and without him I felt overwhelmed.

(In truth, I have Uncle Jim via telephone and many friends nearby available to help. But it's not the same as having my own resident IT expert. And I irrationally want absolutely nothing to change -- no electronics purchases, no changes to Windows 7 -- in Steve's absence.)

***

A few months ago I received an e-mail from Angie, a woman about my age who is caring for her dad. He is fighting a brain tumor, and his name is Steve. We've since corresponded frequently.

Angie's dad isn't doing well this week -- he's requiring more frequent doses of morphine and other comfort drugs -- and her family is never far from my thoughts.

I think that their situation has triggered more frequent recollections about Steve's final hours. I remember so many details from that Sunday and early Monday morning. But I couldn't remember if I had told Steve that I love him while he was still conscious -- and if so, had he heard me? Had he responded?

I spoke on the phone with Gretchen and later Melane. They reminded me that I had held his face in my hands as I told him, "I love you." And he definitely heard me.

***

Katie has been struggling the past couple of weeks. She's had more outbursts, more extreme 4-year-old behavior.

Her bursts are completely understandable. She's had no control over the past two years of her life -- half of her life. And now it's painfully obvious that her Daddy isn't coming back.

I'm offering her choices whenever possible and employing all of my dealing-with-a-preschooler tricks with varied success. And I'm continuing to give both Cooper and Katie multiple opportunities to express their feelings. We talk a lot about not keeping things bottled inside -- I think she's actually listening.

***

Our hospice grief session was Tuesday afternoon. After Lisa and Valerie leave, there is always a Cooper meltdown of some sort. It's as if he needs a "reset" -- a big breakdown followed by a couple of days of less anxiety.

He was sobbing about how life is unfair. And that if God had really cared about Daddy, God would have cured him of cancer.

***

Cooper talked more about Steve this weekend than he usually does without prompting.

Just before bedtime, he told me he was so sad about D-A-D-D-Y. "Bad things happen in this world. You don't always see it coming," our little philosopher said.

Then during his nighttime prayer he said, "God, please tell Daddy hi from me and save a good spot in heaven for me, Mommy and Katie."

***

Katie and Cooper, before church this morning

Despite these bursts, we are continuing to function and most of the time live joyfully.

Every day is a victory. We get out of bed every day. We eat (though admittedly I need to do a more consistent job of this myself), Cooper and Katie get to school on time, I get my work done. We socialize. We share our joys and sorrows at the end of the day. We make plans for the future. We are doing our best to honor Steve.

Katie, Saturday morning after she scored her first-ever soccer goal (photo by Layne Smith)

Save the date

Steve's 41st birthday is Nov. 4.

Our family is celebrating and remembering Steve with a balloon release that evening, and we welcome loved ones and friends to join us.

I'll have more details next week, but for now:

• 6 p.m. Wednesday, Nov. 4
• Playground/park at the corner of Hunters Creek and Hidden Creek, Frisco

Old haunts

Steve loved art. His favorite was modern, though he appreciated all kinds. He also loved sculpture and dreamed of creating his own bronze works.

He especially loved the Nasher Sculpture Center, a beautiful oasis in downtown Dallas. When the two of us would go alone, we would linger around each piece, and Steve would study angles, imagine technique, admire the surrounding trees and grass.

When we attended as a family, we would walk (or run) more quickly, spending more time with the whimsical pieces and exploring the grounds themselves -- ponds, bamboo, fountain. We'd also sit in the James Turrell skyscape and talk about the sky.

On one trip we even met Raymond Nasher himself. (He passed away in 2007.)

Cooper, Katie and Melissa

Yesterday, the three of us plus Melissa (who was in town to visit and help all weekend) returned.

The arts district now features two gorgeous additions -- the Winspear Opera House and Wyly Theater. We spent a couple of hours at the celebratory open house, watching a few performances (including a pianist in the opera house), snacking and walking through the Nasher.

I always feel Steve with me, but his presence was even stronger while I walked those familiar garden pathways. I loved that Cooper and Katie admired one of Steve's favorites -- a Henry Moore piece -- before I even had a chance to tell them what it meant to Daddy.

And just look at the joy in these two faces.

Legoland

Three times Steve and I had planned to take Cooper and Katie to Legoland -- spring break 2008 (California), June 2009 (England) and July 2009 (California).

All three trips were canceled. We didn't dwell on the missed opportunities -- Cooper and Katie didn't even know about one of them.

About a month ago I decided that we would try one more time. After Steve passed away, I felt strongly that the three of us needed a change of scenery and routine (though we don't yet know what our new routine is exactly). Legoland seemed the ideal choice.

Even though we'd be going without Steve, I knew he would approve.

We left Saturday (just as I was recovering from H1N1 flu) and returned late Tuesday. We had a wonderful vacation together.

(The trip wasn't without trouble. I left my wallet at home and required a heroic rescue from Layne, who delivered my driver's license and credit card just in enough time for us to make the flight. The rental car's GPS device didn't work. Nothing like a little drama to make you appreciate everything that goes well!)

We spent two full days at Legoland -- roller coasters, playgrounds, shows, exhibits built entirely of Legos, an aquarium. We also spent some time at the beach, watching the sun set over the Pacific and chasing waves. (You can see more photos here and here.)

The folks at the Sheraton Carlsbad Resort & Spa treated us very well. I had worked with them earlier this year, making sure that they could accommodate Steve's special needs. They were gracious when we had to cancel at the last minute and so welcoming when I contacted them again after Steve passed away. When we arrived the first night, they had milk and cookies waiting for us plus stuffed animals for Cooper and Katie and park passes for the three of us.

We spoiled ourselves with a few room service meals. In fact, when we ate breakfast downstairs one day, Cooper was exasperated. "Why do we have to leave our room to eat?!" I explained that most people leave their rooms to eat and that room service is a wonderful luxury.

It was nice to be so spoiled for a couple of days.

Leaving town didn't mean that we left behind our sadness over Steve's death. We talked about him frequently. I thought of him just about every moment -- how much he would have loved riding Coastersaurus or watching Katie dance or watching Cooper build a car of Legos or just resting in the hotel room after a full day at the park.

On the drive from the airport to the hotel, I felt a slight moment of panic. I was in a faraway city with our children, driving in the dark -- without Steve. He wasn't there to drive or navigate from the passenger seat. He wasn't there to help take bags out of the car or admire the view from our balcony.

Flying home was especially difficult, too. We'd escaped reality for just a few days. Going home again would be another reminder of our most tragic loss.

Despite the bittersweet emotions, I am proud of the three of us -- setting out on adventure, solving problems together, making new memories and doing our best to honor Steve.

Not knowing

In February 2007, Steve developed Bell's palsy.

A couple of nights after a scarily high fever, he woke up with the right side of his face feeling "funny." He couldn't drink his morning coffee without dribbling. By early afternoon, the entire right side of his face had fallen and wouldn't move.

We spent a few hours in the emergency room and eventually received the diagnosis of Bell's palsy.

About four weeks later, his symptoms were mostly resolved.

I have no doubt that that episode was the harbinger of the Damm Spot -- a signal from his body that something unusual was taking place in his brain.

Typical standard of care is to order an MRI if symptoms haven't resolved within a month.

For a long while, I lamented that we didn't insist on an MRI back in early 2008. I thought, "If only we had known that a tumor was growing. If only we had had a baseline image."

I've since realized that not knowing was for the best.

I'm not sure that knowing would have changed Steve's prognosis. We were never going to be able to operate on the tumor. More than likely we would have been paralyzed by the fear of the tumor, always on edge, always wondering if it was growing.

I don't think we would have lived life quite so fully had we lived with that fear.

And we had a great time from March to November 2007.

We spent spring break in Florida, spending time with Matthew and Gretchen, going to the beach, taking Cooper and Katie to Animal Kingdom.

We adopted Margie from a Scottie rescue group.

Katie's 2nd birthday party

We celebrated birthdays and holidays with friends and family.

We danced the "chicken dance" at Bavarian Grill.

We spent an adventurous day in Glen Rose.

I traveled to Shanghai with Jackie and Sydney, leaving everyone else behind for a week.

Cooper and Steve on a copper mine tour near Calumet, Mich.

We traveled to Wisconsin and Michigan, never wasting a moment on the Upper Peninsula or Mackinac Island or in Milwaukee.

Steve ran as part of a 12-person team in the Wild West Relay, helping run 195 miles through Colorado.

Steve and Katie, ECDP spirit night

Katie started preschool.

Cooper became a Cub Scout, with the best Scout daddy ever by his side.

Steve and I attended his 20-year high school reunion.

We all ran in the Gary Burns Fun Run.

I wrote a chapter for Fodor's guidebook to Texas, often taking Cooper, Katie and Steve along on adventures all over Dallas and Fort Worth.

Before the parade

We attended the Adolphus Neiman Marcus Christmas parade with dear friends.

We lived joyfully, without fear or an impending sense of doom or constant worry.

Steve and I were incredibly thankful for our shared life during his cancer journey -- partly because we were so incredibly thankful for all we had shared in the years before. And that includes the few months when the tumor was growing, when we didn't even know it was there.

One month

Cooper, Steve and baby Katie, November 2005

It's been one month since Steve passed away. I miss everything about him.

His smile, his laugh, the way he would mockingly scowl

His hands, his eyebrows

The way he danced

How much he loved washing dishes

His wicked sense of humor

His patience

How he doted on our children

How he unabashedly cried out of joy or sorrow

His eclectic taste in music and literature

How he could perform the entire SNL parody song "Lazy Sunday"

His knowledge of Greek and Norse mythology

How he'd root for Michigan on football Saturdays

His meticulous record-keeping of all his practice runs

How he liked to tell people he wished his name was "Sven"

My list could go on for days.

I know I'm not alone. Feel free to list in the comments what you miss about amazing Steve.

Steve in Miami, a few years before we met

Tasmanian Dolphins

I wrote a couple of weeks ago about the team idea for the three of us.

Kevin (a dear friend from church who also designed this blog's charming template) wasted no time in designing a logo for the Tasmanian Dolphins.

He also offered to get shirts made for us. Cooper nixed the idea of T-shirts that we would wear in public but approved the idea of a night shirt.

Mike and Rose (also sweet friends from church) own an EmbroidMe franchise and made the shirts for us. Kevin's fun logo is on the front, and each of us has our name on the back.

Cooper and Katie, early Monday morning before school

Every few nights, the three of us wear our shirts on the same night. They are tangible reminders of our goals and the importance of our work together.

Reminder of our goals, on a dry-erase board near Cooper's and Katie's bedrooms

Drawing a crowd

We continue to be cared for and supported by an amazing group of family and friends. Take a slice of Saturday, for example.

Brae, Cooper, Angie, Kelly and Jess, after Cooper's game (during which he lost a loose tooth)

Cooper's soccer game drew a big crowd. Aunt Ami (who spoiled the three of us for a full week), Uncle Jim (in town from Houston), Michael (dear friend from college who was visiting from D.C.), Brae (Cooper's teacher), Angie (Cooper's guidance counselor), Jess (a teacher from Cooper's school), Kelly (former assistant principal from Cooper's school), plus Katie and me.

Ami, Jim, Michael, Katie, Liz, Tyra and Noe

Ami, Jim and Michael stayed after Cooper's game for a picnic and to help me keep track of Cooper and Katie while we waited for team photos and Katie's game. As always, Layne and Liz (longtime friends and parents of superstar Noe) help us during Katie's games.

We are incredibly thankful for the continued prayers and support from so many of you. Cooper, Katie and I take great comfort in the physical, spiritual and emotional reminders that we are not alone.

Connection

In second grade and again this year, Cooper has been encouraged to make text-to-text and text-to-self connections when reading.

When he works in his reading journal, he'll often write a note about how something in the book he's reading reminds him of something he's read before or something that's happened in his life. (If a story mentions ice cream, without a doubt Cooper will write about our summer 2007 vacation to Mackinac Island. We ate ice cream at least once a day.)

This afternoon Cooper found two worms on the back porch -- one much longer than the other. He called the bigger one the daddy and the smaller one the son.

The bigger one had already died. The smaller one was still alive.

Cooper came into the house for a plastic cup to cover up the daddy.

As he told Aunt Ami and me about the worms and how sad he was, he interrupted himself.

"This is a life-to-self connection."

Faith in the future

I took a three-week break from writing my Briefing column. My first column since Steve passed away was published today.

You can read it here. Or here.

The present may be tough, but I have faith in the future

In one extraordinary moment 25 days ago, everything changed. I became a widow.

Steve and I were holding hands when he took his final breath early Labor Day morning. He had been in a sleep-like state for a few hours, unable to communicate but aware of the people and love surrounding him.

It's almost ridiculous to write that the end came quickly. Steve had lived with a deadly, inoperable brain tumor for almost two years. Though we prayed multiple times a day for a miracle, we also knew that the tiny mass of rogue cells in his brain stem was stealing time from our future together.

Still, the end came quickly.

On Saturday night we were laughing and telling old stories. A few hours later he could barely breathe. A few hours after that, morphine had forced him into a mercifully relaxed state.

Then he stopped breathing altogether, and his spirit was set free from a body that should have lasted longer than 40 years.

With his final breath, I lost the physical presence of my best friend and the father of our two young children.

I have spent every moment since adjusting to life without Steve.

Grocery shopping is different. He and Katie were the only banana eaters in the house. Now there is just Katie, and I have to remind myself to choose the smallest bunch.

Sleeping is different. I am alone in the master bedroom. I no longer need to wake up every couple of hours to check on Steve's temperature or breathing. But my body isn't fully convinced, and I often wake up – and hear only silence.

Watching television is different. We loved to watch The Office and Project Runway together, after Cooper and Katie were asleep. I now watch them alone, after our children are asleep, still somehow expecting to hear Steve's unique laugh or feel his hand on top of mine.

Receiving mail is different. There are just three names on the cards that fill our mailbox.

Shopping for autumn and winter is different. I constantly remind myself that I don't need to look for a new cardigan or wool socks or sweatshirt for Steve.

Processing information is different. Two friends have experienced two different crises in the past few weeks. At least once a day I ask myself why Steve and I haven't discussed either situation. Then I remember – though I can talk to him whenever I want now, I desperately miss our face-to-face, heart-to-heart, real-life talks.

Being a parent is different. I am the lone recipient of our children's good morning hugs and bedtime kisses. When I say "I love you," I now add "Daddy loves you, too," lending a voice to his spirit.

With so many transitions, so many changes, so many adjustments, I am finding immeasurable comfort in what remains the same.

My faith is unshaken.

I believe in the inherent goodness in people – come to life every day in the hugs and phone calls, meals and cards, visits and acts of kindness that continue to sustain our family.

I believe that love never dies. Steve's body is gone, and we can't eat dinner or catch a movie together or dream about our next vacation or retirement together. But the true love that we shared and that was born in our children can't be extinguished.

I believe that extraordinary moments, even when heart-shattering and life-changing, must be remembered and honored. And that eventually, maybe even years later, we'll discover the greater purpose or meaning behind the most tragic events.

Right now, though, I mostly just miss Steve.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. E-mail her at tyradamm@gmail.com.

Stephen Damm Award

UT Southwestern Medical School has approved a new internal award for "the resident or fellow rotating through neuro-oncology in academic year 2009-2010 who best exemplifies the excellence and compassion in patient care for which Steve Damm was well known."

The idea of the award began with Dr. Chitnis, the neurologist who was assigned to Steve during his stay at Zale Lipshy in December 2007, and Dr. Maher, Steve's neuro-oncologist.

Dr. Maher or I will present the award, which includes a $500 gift (funded by Dr. Chitnis) and a plaque, at the end of the academic year.

Steve was an influential advocate for quality patient care during his tenure with Children's Medical Center and as a cancer patient.

He relished his role as an administrator, which allowed him to work behind the scenes to ensure that children from families who could least afford quality health care received the best possible care.

As a patient, Steve was gently assertive. Together, he and I pushed for the best possible care. He was quick to praise excellent care and willing to demand better treatment when necessary.

I am thankful that we are able to celebrate Steve's legacy with this special award and will keep you posted on more details.

Scripture from Steve's service

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?

As it is written, ‘For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.’ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 8:35-39

***

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.

Psalm 23

***

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.

II Timothy 4:7-8

***

‘With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt-offerings, with calves a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with tens of thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?’

He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

Micah 6:6-8

***

‘Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:19-21

***

Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honour. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord.

Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.

Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.

Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ No, ‘if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.’ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Romans 12:9-21

Tyra, Cooper, Steve (holding niece Molli), Aunt Melane, Uncle Greg and niece Brooke, 2004

Peer pressure

This weekend was my 20-year high school reunion -- Newman Smith High School class of 1989. When Steve started declining so quickly late this summer, I decided I wouldn't attend. My priority was to be at home.

And after he passed away, I didn't change my mind. I didn't want to have to answer one of the typical reunion questions about marriage. I didn't want to be around so many people and so much noise.

I did want to see longtime (not old, of course) friends, though. Konrad suggested a Saturday brunch somewhere. I offered our home, and Konrad took charge of organizing.

About 20 friends visited here yesterday -- a great compromise.

A few of them suggested more than once that I should attend the reunion. I finally gave in to peer pressure, arranged the best sitters for Cooper and Katie (Aunt Mel, Uncle Greg and Aunt Ami) and went to the party with Karen and Swati (just like old times).

Swati, Tyra and Karen

Yes, there were lots of people and it was noisy, but my fears didn't materialize. Just about everyone I spoke to already knew about Steve, and our conversations were comforting, not upsetting.

***

Last week Cooper volunteered to read Scripture during today's early church service -- our annual Children's Sabbath.

Early this morning he balked at the idea.

"I don't want to go to church, Mommy," he said as he snuggled under my quilt.

I asked why.

"Because Daddy loved church, and it makes me sad to do what Daddy loved."

I told him that I sometimes felt the same way and that on some Sundays we could stay home. But on this day we needed to go, to honor his commitment.

"But I might cry," Cooper told me. "And I don't want to break down in the community."

We talked about crying in front of others, and I assured him that it's OK to cry.

Our morning routine helped turn him around, and by the time we arrived for the 8:30 service, Cooper was ready.

He read Genesis 1:31a and 2:1-3 with confidence and ease.

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array. By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.

Music from the service

Steve played a significant role in planning his memorial service. This summer he met with Andy, our senior pastor, to talk about the message and tone. He met with Debbie, our music minister and his choir director, to continue that discussion and to suggest hymns and anthems.

Andy and Debbie helped to create what I consider the perfect service for Steve and truly the most beautiful service I've ever attended. Every detail fit Steve perfectly and reflected meaningful moments and themes from his life.

Steve loved music -- listening, singing, dancing, performing, creating. As we celebrated his life, we also listened and sang. Choirs from our church (Holy Covenant United Methodist) and Jim and Betty's church (Schreiber Memorial United Methodist) performed together, creating gorgeous sounds and filling the sanctuary with a joyful noise.

In This Very Room (Ron Harris)
"And in this very room there's quite enough love for all of us,
And in this very room there's quite enough joy for all of us,
And there's quite enough hope and quite enough power to chase away any gloom,
For Jesus, Lord Jesus ... is in this very room."

On Eagle's Wings (Michael Joncas)
"And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand."

Safe Within Your Arms (Mark Hayes)

Cooper's favorite Christmas song, sung by children attending the service:
The Little Drummer Boy
"I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum"

It is Well with My Soul (Horatio Spafford)
"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul."

Order My Steps (Glenn Burleigh)
"I want to walk worthy ... my calling to fulfill
Please order my steps Lord ... and I'll do your blessed will
The world is ever changing ... but you are still the same
If you order my steps ... I'll praise your name"

Here I Am, Lord (Daniel Schutte)
"Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord, if you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart."

Steve's all-time favorite anthem:
Creation Will Be at Peace (Anna Laura Page)

Lord of the Dance
"Dance, then, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the dance said He
And I lead you all wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance said He"

The Lord Bless and Keep You
"The Lord bless and keep you
The Lord make His face to shine on you,
And be gracious, gracious;
The Lord bless and keep you
The Lord lift His countenance on you,
And give peace, give you peace;
Shalom, shalom."

The light

Last Wednesday I put on hold three plane tickets for a little getaway for Cooper, Katie and me. I needed to purchase the tickets by midnight Thursday.

I remembered the deadline all day Wednesday and Thursday.

About 11 p.m. Thursday, I was ready to go to sleep. I tried to turn off the one remaining lamp in the bedroom.

I turned the switch. The light was still on. I tried again. The light was still on. I did this about 10 times with no change.

Then I thought that maybe I had forgotten which way to turn the switch, so I went in the opposite direction.

Still the light was on.

So I unscrewed the light bulb and fell asleep.

I woke up at 6 a.m. Friday with a start. I forgot to purchase the plane tickets. I hurried to check the flights -- the price had increased by more than $100 per ticket overnight.

(No worries. I checked another airline and was able to buy tickets for the original price.)

After all that activity, I realized that that malfunctioning lamp was no accident. I'm pretty certain that Steve was somehow trying to communicate with me to stay awake a little longer and purchase the tickets before the deadline.

I've also realized that I need to be more open to other special Steve moments.

The lamp has worked correctly ever since that night.

Michigan question

It's college week at Cooper's school. Students take college memorabilia, wear college gear, dress up for career day and more.

Between Steve and me, Steve definitely had more school spirit. He was a third-generation University of Michigan graduate. He was in the marching band. He loved Ann Arbor.

We've always sent Cooper to school in a Michigan shirt for these kinds of events.

He wore his maize and blue today, and after school we talked about his friends' allegiances -- mostly University of Texas, Texas A&M and University of Oklahoma.

For the first time in two weeks, Cooper asked a question that I would have deferred to Steve. It certainly won't be the last time.

"Mommy, who are Michigan's enemies?" Cooper asked.

I had to pause for a moment. This is when I would normally call Steve, text Steve or just find him in the house to verify the answer first.

I answered Notre Dame, Ohio State and Michigan State.

I hope that you Michigan men and women will set the record straight if I answered incorrectly.

Messy mess

Steve lovingly called Katie a "messy mess" when she was, well, messy -- emotionally or physically messy.

He would definitely call me a messy mess now.

I don't walk around crying all the time, but it's definitely possible at any moment. I feel completely competent in taking care of Cooper, Katie, the house and usually myself, though at the end of the day I marvel at how everything fell into place (often with the help of others).

The grieving process -- which is going to take a long, long time -- is unpredictable. There are no textbook stages. There is no one correct way to do anything. It kind of reminds me of the first 21 months of the cancer journey, only this is astronomically more difficult for me because it's without Steve.

***

Thursday night was Katie's first soccer game ever.

The three of us had wonderful company. Jeannie had volunteered to help that night, plus Liz was with us. (Noe and Katie are on the same team.)

Still, I ached for Steve to walk the sidelines, cheering on his darling Katie. It was just four years ago that Cooper played his first game, and when I close my eyes I can see a healthy Steve smiling and waving at 4-year-old Coop on the field for the first time.

I know that Steve is always with us now. That he's in our hearts and watching out for us. I truly believe that. In the moment, though, I'm selfish and want the real, live-in-the-flesh Steve.

Cooper gives Katie some sideline advice between quarters.

***

Friday night the three of us gathered in Katie's room like we do every night for stories before bed. Without thinking much, I selected Caps for Sale.

The book about a hat peddler and some mischievous monkeys was one of Steve and Katie's favorites. For weeks at a time, he'd read it to Katie every day. I didn't expect that I'd have trouble reading it.

By the third page of this normally cheerful book, I was sobbing. I couldn't continue.

Cooper gently took the book from my hands and began to read instead.

***

I miss Steve's voice. I miss his weak voice from three weeks ago and his strong voice from the pre-cancer days.

So last night I called his cell phone to listen to his outgoing message.

Oh my goodness. The warmth of his voice surrounded me. And then, when it was over, I was a big ol' messy mess. I sobbed for about 30 minutes.

***

When I cry around Cooper and Katie, they try so hard to cheer me up. I often tell them that it's OK to cry, that it's a natural way to let out emotion.

Still, they tickle me, make silly faces, hug me, tell me jokes.

From last night:
Cooper: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
Cooper: Olive.
Me: Olive who?
Cooper: Olive Daddy.

Then Cooper offered to tuck me into bed and make me breakfast in the morning.

I politely declined. Instead, I tucked each child into bed, fell asleep on my own and woke up in plenty of time to get ready, make their breakfasts and drive us all to church this morning.

Before church this morning

***

Cooper, Katie and I are not alone. Everyone who loves Steve is grieving.

There are so many of you who continue to help us daily and who continue to pray for us. We are abundantly blessed and sincerely thankful.

We are also receiving help from trained professionals.

Cooper's guidance counselor at school has been working for a year and a half to establish a nurturing relationship. He completely trusts her and has been spending time with her a few days each week.

Hospice continues to provide services. The music therapist meets with Cooper and Katie in our home every other week. An adult grief counselor has started visiting at the same time, so we have a team approach for our care.

We'll resume play therapy for Cooper and Katie in the next couple of weeks.

I have my own grief counselor.

In the next weeks or months we'll begin attending sessions with Journey of Hope, a grief support center in Plano.

We won't use all these resource all the time. We'll rely on a mix of services depending on our needs. And we'll always rely on prayer and grace.

***

Cooper's soccer team has new uniforms this season. On the back of each blue jersey is the player's last name and number. On the front left corner of every jersey are the initials SED -- for Stephen Edmund Damm.

Longtime buddies Dylan, Cooper and Reilly after yesterday's game

***

At the end of Katie's game Saturday, Coach Hollie gathered all the players for the post-game talk. She asked Katie to sit in her lap.

Coach Hollie explained to the 4-year-olds that Katie's Daddy had passed away. And then she presented Katie with a soft stuffed bunny, dressed in a soccer uniform, as a gift from the team.

The bunny's name is Hope.

Hollie, Katie and Hope

Guest blogger Liz: Run for Steve

We will be running the Dallas White Rock Marathon again this year in honor of our friend Steve. This year's race is Sunday, Dec. 13.

This was one of Steve's favorite races, and we will run in his memory, as a tribute to our amazing friend!

I am collecting names of everyone interested in running for Steve. If you are planning to run, please contact me at runforsteve@gmail.com and tell me which event you will participate in -- full, half or relay.

Anyone and everyone of all skill levels is welcome to join the Run For Steve team!

If you would like to be placed on a relay team, please let me know. If you don't want to run, there are still plenty of chances to support the team on race day. We'll need shuttle service to and from the race and relay points. Most importantly, we'll need lots of people along the course cheering on the Run For Steve runners!

We are planning to have brand new shirts for the team this year -- featuring a quote from one of Steve's favorite movies, Fletch. More info will be coming soon.

Last year Steve cheered us on from the finish line. This year I know he'll be running right there along side all of us!

-- Liz Smith