So I’ve started writing the second book in the last couple of weeks. The title is “Life After Death, on This Side of Heaven.” I found quickly that I have to limit how many days a week I work on it, and how many pages I do at a time. I’ve forgotten how difficult it is to encounter all those journal entries for the “first” time since I’ve written them a couple of years ago.

I’ve found myself saying to my friends and family a lot lately that its been two and a half years and I think I’m still stuck in the same place. They vigorously shake their heads no and say that I am not anywhere near where I was back then. Now that I’m reading what I wrote back then, I know what they mean. Man, was it hard then. The “bitters” sure overpowered the “sweets” on a daily basis.

I just reworked a section about Frankie. I will give you a sneak peek so you can see what I have been remembering in May of 2013, three years after Tim’s initial diagnosis. This was originally written in January of 2011.
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A half hour later when we (Frankie and I) were laying in bed, I was almost asleep and thought I heard sniffles. I asked Frankie if he was crying… he answered with a downpour of thoughts and feelings that broke my heart.

“Yes, I’m crying. I miss daddy soooooooo much!

“I hate cancer! People should be able to smoke or do whatever they want without having to worry about cancer.”

“If dad had been here tonight, he would have yelled the whole night because we were so loud.”

“If daddy were here right now, he’d be laying right next to me and I would lay on top of him and be his Frankie blanket.”

“I just wish daddy were here right now.”

“There’s so many changes, so many changes.” I asked him “Like what?” and he paused and then said “Everything!”

“It’s so sad that daddy missed seeing his granddaughter.”

“Daddy was given the wrong medicine. Maybe he would still be here right now.”

My heart broke, but I was also beyond relieved that he was showing emotion and opening up to me about it. I let him know the smoking didn’t directly cause daddy’s cancer. I reminded him that he quit smoking as a present to Frankie for his 5th birthday because he loved him so much. I told him that daddy wasn’t given the wrong medicine, the chemo just didn’t work because the cancer was too strong.

But mostly I just laid next to him and cried with him, telling him how much I missed daddy too.
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Kinda took my breath away. We ARE doing ok. And we ARE smiling more these days. But it’s ok to remember too.