Tag: cancer

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A Reflection & Public Service Announcement:

Today is the 3 year-anniversary of our Stage 4 Diagnosis Day, and I feel compelled to share a little something-something today, now that we are 3 years out from that dreadful day. This is the day that my life most profoundly changed, followed closely by the day I became a 1st time mother, but that day was wrapped in joy, whereas diagnosis day was shrouded in fear, grief, & unbelievable pain, but I tend to write more about sad things than happy things. (Don’t I sound like some fun person you would want to hang out with at parties?? LOL! Disclaimer, I think I am more fun in real life than I am in my writing, but obviously I am not a reliable source on the matter. )

I was talking to a dear friend yesterday about how much my life has changed over the last 3 years, & how she has been a confidant & friend throughout that whole period (shoutout to my small group leader, you know who you are. 😉)  And while I always wish I could see the future & see where this or that will lead, I’m thankful for 1,000 past days that I didn’t know the various looming heartaches that awaited me, because I’m not sure I would have stayed on those different courses, but honestly I would have missed so much if I had taken any one of the detours offered to me. For its only in hindsight that you, or at least that I have, come to realize that the pain & agony of life is where & when you often learn the most profound life lessons, reprioritize the way you spend your time, and reconsider who you choose to spend your time with, all while drawing closer to God along the way.

I have said before, and I will say again, while our family’s Cancer journey, (because truly, one person’s cancer diagnosis is a diagnosis for all of those around them too) was wretched and heartbreaking, it was also, I see now, a necessary evil we all had to go through, like a refinement process turning us all into the people He has planned for us to be. Our girls have grown and matured and faced things that you would wish on no one, but as a result, I believe they too have learned so much and grown in their character and developed immeasurable in their grit along the way, that I stand in awe of them at moments. But at the same time, while we 3 may have emerged stronger 3-years later, I see us like a broken bone that heals, but still aches when it rains, and had we known, really known for sure, not just some hokey prediction what we would face if we did this or that, or didn’t do this or that, I know we would have all done whatever it took to avoid it, but then where would be now? Who can say?

Now, don’t read that and think that I am all Zen, and only spend my time on worthwhile things today, because I don’t.  I confess, I just binged The Perfect Couple on Netflix this past weekend, and I am just as guilty, if not more so than, the next person of mindlessly scrolling and watching ridiculous Reels about love, life, and black labradors, but I do try to be more intentional with my time and stay more present with my people than I used to; I also spend a lot more time, not necessarily on my knees in prayer, but certainly time while I drive and walk and drift off to sleep. I almost always have an ongoing conversation going on with God in my head. more time than not, about both the meaningful and the mundane, of hopes and dreams and small pleas. So much so, that I imagine that even He is thinking, TMI Dany, TMI.  LOL!

And to add to all of those maybe not so deep and philosophical thoughts brewing in my brain today, 😂 I’ll share that I am thoroughly enjoying Here One Moment, by Liane Moriarty, (book club friends: read this one!) that poses the question, can ‘Fate be Fought?’ From my experience, and those who know me well, & know of my story of the Palm reader prediction @ age 21 that turned out to be true 28 years later, my advice is to not mess with the occult, don’t look beyond the veil, not that it might be an inaccurate sneak peak, but I don’t believe that we were designed to know the future, because said knowledge could pollute your todays. Live gratefully in the present & pray fervently & constantly for the little & the large. 

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Halli’s Father’s Day Reflections

It has been about 6 months since I have posted anything. I tend to write the most when I am sad, and I have to say, I haven’t been sad enough to put pen to paper in a minute, and praise God for that. But journaling / blogging did truly help me process a lot of dark stuff, and I appreciate those of you who followed along. Today I am posting, not my own words, but the words of my oldest daughter Halli, and I wanted to share them here, albeit a little over a week past the time she penned them.

Happy Father’s Day to the Best Father there Was

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost two years since he left us, but the time without him has allowed me to realize and more fully appreciate just how great of a dad he was. When he first passed, many people warned me that the first year of losing someone would be the worst, especially during Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthdays, when at first you forget that they won’t be there. Although those times were difficult, the hardest part for me came later, when I stopped forgetting, and I already knew he wouldn’t be there for the times I needed or wanted him there most. The reason moments like these were harder is because instead of thinking he was still there, I remembered thinking how much he would have wanted to be there too. And I was not only sad for myself, but in some ways, sad for him too.

But now that even more time has passed, my perspective has changed. I know I am lucky to have had a dad who loved me and knew me so well. Now those sad moments also serve as a reminder for me that whenever I needed him, he not only was, but also wanted to be there for me when he could. While he can no longer give advice, encourage, or listen to me, I still know what he would say. I can imagine his words, and so I have realized that though gone, he is still with me through the example he set. To me, this shows that he was an even better father than I realized because, in his limited time, he was able to teach me how to be there for myself even when he can’t be now.

“Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction and do not forsake your mother’s teaching. They are a garland to grace your head and a chain to adorn your neck. “ Proverbs 1:8-9

“Start children off on the way they should go and even when they are old they will not turn from it.” Proverbs 22:6 

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Facing the Holidays of 2023

Thanksgiving 23 is in the books, & our Christmas decorations are up! Whew! One lap down in the holiday race! I’m personally so dang proud of myself & the girls, and I’m grateful for the friends & family who pulled us through another holiday. Had Jamey had been here, he & I would have been high fiving about a job well done when the last friend left the house. As it was, I turned the lights off by myself, as the rest of the house went to sleep.

Last year, I unashamedly ran away from the holidays as best as I could.  – A real weakness of mine is that I stink @ crucial conversations & confrontations, & I wasn’t ready to face the hard things about the holidays. I know astrology is silly, but the symbolism associated with the zodiac animal of a crab 🦀 & the way it buries itself in the sand to escape hard things, fits me so well, & that’s just what I did last year. I ran away & hid out.

Fast forward to another year, & I’m trying out new battle tactics, a more sustainable long-term strategy, & my girls are bravely fighting in the trenches right alongside me, & together, I believe, we are all finding peace & joy in new & different ways. 

A real blessing for me is that my girls are 16 & 19, not 3 & 6. Being older, they were major players in Thanksgiving this year. Heidi made the best cheesy green bean casserole EVER that she dedicated 5-hours to. And Halli made a Toffee Cheesecake Graham Cracker pie, that was out of this world, & she too gave up hours & hours of her Wednesday to make it. I pulled up the rear with the loaded mash potatoes and gravy, & a pre-ordered Cajun spiced fried turkey. 🦃 

We hosted a grandma for lunch, & then Friendsgiving for drop in food & & drink & fun & hot tub indulgences, oh my. 

While Jamey was never far from our thoughts, we managed to pull off the traditional holiday fare, while also making it new, an important factor I believe, in moving forward with our loss, though that’s just what’s working for me. Loss & life are different for everyone & no one’s journey is the same, so I share, just to share how we are moving through it, because grief does not come with a playbook.

But with a Thanksgiving win behind us, we woke up to face the Christmas season, with a bit of new.  During & after our war with cancer, we implemented survival mode only tactics & for us, that meant borrowing my Mil’s artificial tree for the last few years. And while that was the best I could muster for holiday cheer for Christmas pasts, the girls said not having that real Christmas tree scent in the house made it not even feel like Christmas. Their registered & legitimate complaints loomed over me, because how was I going to manage a real tree by myself??? Cue the hero Andy’s Nursery!! The 3 of us picked out our perfect tree, & had it DELIVERED first thing Friday morning!! Score!!! 

So, while the holidays are not as happy for us as they once were, together we are finding ways to celebrate with our loss, not that we are moving on away from it, but with it. For example, we still hung Jamey’s stocking yesterday, & my youngest intends to write Daddy a letter & stick it in it. Grief, we are discovering, is not ever something you get through, but something you learn to carry, but you do have to train yourself to maneuver through life with that big pack, and you have to rethink battle plans, because none of us are as innocent & nimble as we once were. We can never go back to the magical ignorance of not knowing deep, soul crushing pain, but we can, & we are, finding ways to get by, smile & live another day, and through another holiday season. 

Happy Holidays to everyone, everywhere. 

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A Memoir by Heidi

The Beginning of No End  

He cried. I have only ever seen my dad cry twice before this: Once when his dad died, once when his brother died. Of the many ways I have imagined my life going, this was never a part of my plan. 

“There are treatments we can try, and I promise to do everything I can to fight this, but because of how late we caught it, it doesn’t look good, and it won’t be easy,” my dad says this in an unfamiliar tone with a strong front, but has fear ripping through him and making his voice unsteady. My mom wasn’t even making the slightest bit of effort to hide how terrified she was. 

“The doctors said it’s stage four and predicted he will have about a year” I can barely make out what she was saying through her sobs. I don’t remember what else was said after that, I just remember realizing everything was gonna be different. I was 14, too young to lose my dad. I was in disbelief; there was no way this could possibly be God’s plan for me. 

His treatment started soon after that. Everything was going so fast and day after day he got sicker. He started eating less, feeling less active, sleeping more, and I watched as my dad; the strongest man and biggest role model I knew, started to diminish before my eyes. 

It didn’t happen overnight though, and it wasn’t all hopeless. My mom, always trying to find a brightside, told us, “Maybe this is just a really hard patch in our lives that we will be able to look back on and say ‘damn that was hell’ but we’ll be so much stronger and all together”.

Despite my moms optimism, the next couple of months were full of more chemo, surgeries, scans, tests, and plans. 

Right before we were let out for winter break, I was in my pjs getting ready for bed when I heard our doorbell. Ding ding ding. 

“Jamey will you get the door?” my mom shouts from across the house. 

“Can you get it?” 

“No, I think you should get it honey.” This is when I knew there was something going on. My mom would’ve done anything for my dad, especially such a simple task like answering the front door. Halli must’ve thought this was unusual as well because she meets me in the hallway walking to the front door. As my dad opens the door we see one of his best friends standing there with a single candle in his hand. Confused, I get closer to the door. That’s when I see what is happening. There are almost 100 people in our yard with candles in hand. 

The four of us step outside and we are handed candles and lyrics with Christmas carols on them. Tears filled my eyes as the sound of 100 of our closest friends singing Silent Night filled the air. We sang many songs that night and all cried. Even with so many of our friends and family there supporting us I couldn’t shake the fear that this could be my family’s last Christmas. 

Although there are so many awful and hard things I could talk about going through this, there are so many blessings that surround us as well. The support we felt from our friends and community was unimaginable, and we knew we were not fighting this alone. 

Flashforward to the middle of summer, the doctors have decided they have done all they can do. My dad was put on hospice care and a hospital bed was placed in the middle of our living room. 

My mom slept on the couch next to him every night, but her back started aching so we decided I would sleep next to him instead. 

My mom and I were watching a show next to him. We all got tired and my mom said goodnight. I tried to talk to my dad some, but he wasn’t lucid and couldn’t talk very well. I went to bed and I didn’t know whether I should pray for God to take him and end his misery or for him to live another day. That night I prayed for him to live another day and for God not to take him. It was my job to watch over him tonight; he would survive. 

The next morning I woke up to the sun shining bright in my eyes and my sister and mom fighting in the back of the house. I quickly sat up to see how my dad was doing. 

“Dada,” no response. 

I say it again a little louder, this time making sure he heard me, “Dada.” Again no response. A rush of panic floods through me and I bolt up gettin closer to him. He is still. He isn’t moving. His eyes are frozen open staring into space. I shake him and ask him to wake up. I beg him to wake up. I touch his forehead, the feel of his ice cold skin immediately makes my heart plummet. 

“Mama! Halli! Help, he won’t wake up!” I shout and I scream and I cry. No one comes. I can still hear them fighting about whatever they were fighting about in the back of the house.

 I run to them and scream, “He’s gone.” They come running. Everything after that is a blur. 

There is not a happy ending or even an ending to this story. I am still learning how to live in a world that he is not in. I still wake up some mornings forgetting he is gone and not coming back. Things will never be the way they used to be and they will never end up the way I imagined them to. 

The first week of school my syllabuses come back with only one parent signature and the other line blank. When I look to the sidelines during my games only my mom is sitting there with an empty void where he used to be. Fathers Day is no longer a celebration, it is a day full of grief and sorrow. Holidays are no longer holidays, they are just a time where I miss my dad being by my side. My 16th birthday, graduation, wedding day, and the rest of my life there will always be something missing. 

Everyday is another day that I miss my dad and learn how to live life without him being here. It turns out there is not always an ending and life keeps moving.

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The Upcoming 1-Year Anniversary

We are days away from the 1-year anniversary of my husband’s passing. ONE YEAR!?!? 

I imagine some in my position would say that this past year was the hardest of their lives. I would not say that. 

I think the year leading up to Jamey‘s passing was undoubtedly the worst year of my life. The anticipatory grief, the heartbreak, and the realization that while I could feel God walking beside us, our prayers were not being answered the way we wanted them to be, was undoubtably the hardest year of my life. Watching the smartest, most talented, kindest, & wittiest man I’ve ever known disintegrate and become a mere shadow of himself was way harder than this last year.  But reader, please know that caring for him during that year was not the hardest thing I’ve ever done, maybe the most grievously foul, but not the hardest. That part was an honor. And I now, in hindsight, see that caregiving year as a weird blessing. Sadly, during this year, I have met and talked with other widows.  I have joined a club that no one wants to be a part of, but once in, there is no getting out.  But I now know that as awful as I think I have / had it,  I also now realize that it was a blessing that I had a chance to prepare, a chance to say goodbye, a chance to imagine a life in the future without him, a chance to even discuss a life without him with him. Not all, and maybe not even most, widows are afforded that opportunity.

I’ve read on various widow forums about how so many people have regrets. They regret conversations had or not had, actions taken or not taken etc. I have no regrets in that regard. We said all the sweet things. He knew he was leaving this earth well loved, & all he loved knew that they too were loved by him. He did not choose to leave us; this was not his, & certainly not my, plan. I am 100% living Plan B right now, and while this is not the way I planned my life to go at age 26, or 30, or 35, or 40, or even 45, I am finding joy on this new path too, a different kind of joy, but joy.

But this year has not been the hardest year of my life because Jamey loved me, loved us, so well in the 21 years we had together. Jamey provided for me and the girls, and he made and collected the best friends that continue to check on us and help me, and counsel me, and support me. And I’d like to say I’ve made and collected some of the best friends too, and they also continue to check on me, help me, counsel me, and support me. And friends from both sides of the aisle have talked me through and come over and helped with (AKA done) quite a few honey dos. Plus, we have family here & there who also love us as best as they can too, & we are thankful for all of it and everyone.

Without a doubt, I have kept myself extremely busy this last year. I have tried to fill the hole in my heart with activities, with house projects, with renovations, with travel, with new certifications, with exercise, with Bible study, with outings, with concerts, & of course because I live in the South, with football, & because Heidi is Jamey’s daughter, soccer games too. I have filled it with the good work that Jamey started with the Hollingsworth foundation. I have filled that hole by helping Halli prepare for college and navigate senior year, by helping our youngest navigate the complicated waters of entering high school, and all the trials and tribulations and hard choices that present themselves during that period of life. I have filled it with therapy, and I’ve certainly filled it with a bit of my own escaping as well. 

This year has not been pretty, but it’s not been the hardest year of my life. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve cried (a lot) but less than the year of dying. I’ve checked in and out a few times; I’ve gotten angry a lot, more than I should have, but I haven’t quit. People marvel and tell me that they don’t think they could’ve gone through this. The thing is, it’s not like you get a choice. You simply must move forward, because time waits for no one; life waits for no one.

I see myself still evolving, hopefully for the better, but not always. In some ways, a lot of ways, I feel myself reverting to the young woman I was before I met Jamey, just older, wrinklier, and a good bit wiser. I believe I’ve learned from some of the mistakes I’ve made this past year. But there are other mistakes that I’m sure I will continue to repeat for the rest of my life.  I mean human nature and all that. 

A cherished friend counseled me a few months back, and she said that she had a sense that Jamey was telling me to slow down. That makes sense on so many levels. Even together throughout our marriage, Jamey was definitely the more strategic, slower, more methodical thinker, and I was the energizer, the activator, the Make It Happen Captain partner. And so, I can relate to her / his advice, & I think this next year, I’m going to try and do just that, try and slow down. Emphasis on the word try. 

I stopped writing for a while, (5-months to be exact) but I miss it, & I hope to pick it back up again. Just writing this post feels cathartic. But solo life, solo parenting, gets so busy, and frankly it’s really, really hard managing it all, working full time, raising teens, heck, I’m kind of still raising myself, but I’d like to think I’ll pick the writing back up again. I do find it very therapeutic. But I also am still considering a new puppy in the Spring verses now, because as another friend, suggested, I don’t want to be potty training a puppy in the winter. I was born and raised in Miami, Florida, and you can happily take the girl out of Florida, but you can’t take the love of warmth and sunshine out of the girl, and I do not want to be walking a puppy in the dead of winter.  I’m also training to become a certified Pilates instructor. So, while I have hopes of slowing down and writing more, I’m not going to come to a halt; I can’t.  It’s not in my DNA. But I am going to try to slow down.

I’m also kind of mentally and emotionally preparing myself for the idea that this next year might be worse than the last. From therapy and from the Widow forums I read, the reality that it’s not just the first year without him, but forever without him will apparently really sink into my, our, bones this next year. So, I continue to ask for grace, and patience, and love, and forgiveness moving forward. Maybe I’ll write about it. 🤔😘

But back to the upcoming dreaded anniversary. I did not want to be in our home, nor did I want the girls to be in our home on the anniversary of Jamey‘s passing in our house. So, with the help of the bestest travel agent ever, we will not be. We are running far, far away, & I am hoping that we will make new and happy memories to layer on top of the anniversary of a horrible loss. I’m also trying to think of this escape as a new beginning, a rebirth. A celebration for sure that we’ve had major milestones (HS graduation, turning 50, etc.) this year, and that we too have survived a year without him. But I also want this trip to symbolize a rebirth into the women that God is shaping us into. I want it to be a time for the three of us to focus on ‘who do we want to be at this time next year’ and ‘what are the choices and decisions and actions that we need to take to become those women, women who Jamey would be proud of.’ Because while we still shed tears, and still have those moments of realization and shock that we are living our lives without him, no matter how ill equipped I feel, or they feel, to be navigating these waters without him, God knew this was in our future the whole time, and the Bible tells us we were fearfully & wonderfully made, Psalm 139:14. And while I may not be individually equipped for this path, He is with me, with us, & through Him all things are possible, Philippians 4:13.  God has sent so many wonderful friends and family members to support us, and He has supposedly given us the strengths and abilities to get through it, though sometimes I personally feel like Moses, and I keep questioning if just by chance, God is overestimating my abilities, Exodus 4:10. But I do trust the Lord more than I trust my own insecurities and the negative talk of the devil whispering in and undermining me in my ear. 

So, while this year hasn’t been the hardest year of my life, it hasn’t been the best or the easiest either, and I’ve certainly gotten way too familiar with some of the YouTube handymen do it yourself channels. And while I don’t have a crystal ball, nor have I been given the gift of foresight, I can only hope and pray and trust that this next year will be better still. 

Thank you all for walking this path with me and my girls. We could not have made it this far, with as few cuts and bruises as we have, without you. 😘

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Goodbye 2022

*Disclaimer: I am writing and posting this blog from my phone in an airport. So please forgive all typos, and grammatical errors.

So, without question, 2022 was THE. WORST. YEAR. OF. MY. LIFE, & I am more than ready to kick it to the curb. 

I am truly hopeful that 2023 will be better. I’d like to think that there’s no way it couldn’t be better, but I don’t want to jinx myself, or challenge 2023 & have it say “Here, hold my beer.” 🍺 

And not only was 2022 AWFUL, I will say that it isn’t going quietly into the night. In the last few weeks of this wretched year, I was bitten by a dog on my face, a tree fell in my yard knocking out our power for almost 20 hours during one of the coldest spells I have ever lived through in Alabama (silver lining, that event forced me to really up my fire making skills,) 2 sinks leaked & flooded my cabinets, & if all that wasn’t yuck enough, I either twisted / sprained or developed some sort of infection in my ankle causing me to literally hobble home. 🤦🏼‍♀️

But there have also been some wonderful moments closing out this heinous year. The girls & I swam with a dolphin 🐬& snorkeled with turtles 🐢 in Mexico. Yes, we have cried, but together we have also laughed. Halli committed to the most perfect college for her & received a size-able 4-year scholarship. Friends have rallied around us & seen us through in a million little & big ways, & I am grateful. But grateful doesn’t mean I’m not ready to wash the remnants of 2022 off & down the drain, & I almost wonder if God is not trying to help me do just that too. 

When I went to Napa with friends in September it rained like it was Alabama for most of the trip, which is very unusual for that area. Then when we tried to run away from grief by going to Mexico 🇲🇽 for 🎄 Christmas; it rained for 4 whole days, again a very unusual weather pattern for that part of the world. And don’t forget the sinks I mentioned earlier & my poor flooded cabinets. So so much water!! I googled it, & it seems that water 💦 is referred to 722 times in the Bible, more often than faith, hope, prayer, and worship. But it doesn’t always symbolize the same thing. Sometimes it symbolizes difficulties in life (check.)

 “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you…” – Isaiah 43:2

Sometimes water is used to symbolize eternal life. Sometimes it symbolizes the word of God. Sometimes it symbolizes cleansing.

     “…let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.” – Hebrews 10:22

Likely I’m reading too much into all this water, but when your world, your life, your heart, is ripped so tragically apart, I imagine it’s not all that uncommon to try & find meaning in things, because random is just too hard to accept. But though I share the same first three letters of his name, I was not gifted with the skills of interpretation like Daniel in the Old Testament, so what God might actually be saying to me is a bit fuzzy, but I’m leaning into the idea of cleansing. I’d like to think He is trying to rinse sadness & heartache & sickness away. I’d like to think, I pray, 2023 will be better. 🙏🏻

And with that, I wish everyone a very happy (& dry) new year, & I thank you all for loving my little Family 2.0 through this last year.