The mother of my sons James and Christopher
lost her fight against cancer this a.m. She had
battled for five years, and only in the last couple
of weeks did it gain an edge on her. Although we
were divorced 35 years ago, we had managed to
be friends these past twenty years even though
I rarely ever saw her.


Our link was our sons. Both boys were very close
to their mother, and much of their independence and
feistiness came from her. Last fall, when I saw Pat
while my son James was home on leave from
Afghanistan, she told me that the doctors had told
her when they diagnosed the ovarian cancer that she
had a choice, and she said she chose to live no matter
how hard it might be. This was her second bout of
cancer, she had survived breast cancer a dozen years
ago. She went through a dozen or so rounds of
chemotherapy, but tenaciously hung on despite the
debilitating effects. This last round, however, basically
would not allow her to keep anything down, liquids or
food, and they stopped it.

I don't know when the bone cancer got added to the mix,
but it sure made it harder. Then, Pat's mother dying at
88 on 6 February really hit her hard. although she was
amazingly vital when the hordes of relatives and friends
descended on her mother's place the day of the funeral
although she was quite frail. But, a few weeks later she
was admitted to hospital, and went through another ten
days wherein nothing would stay down.

I called her on her 64th birthday (11 March) and told her
she was in my prayers, whereupon she broke into tears,
although saying to me that "tears aren't always a bad
thing." I sure felt bad. When we were together (1969-
1973), prayers were not part of my life, but always were a
part of Pat's beingness. We both had changed over time.

My spring break was this last week, and Renny's started
last Friday, so we went to Tucson so I could see my sons
(Chris was in from Salt Lake City to be with his mom),
and I spent most of the day Saturday and all of Sunday
morning after breakfast with the boys. They talked about
their mother a great deal, and it was clear tome that
especially Chris was hoping beyond measure that
somehow his mother would pull this latest downturn into
still another victory.

Saturday the 15th, the boys took me to the hospital and
I saw Pat for the last time. She was very thin, but those eyes
were alive and full of expression even though she had more
or less lost the ability to talk. She was bemused beyond
measure that I was visiting her on what would have been
our 39th wedding anniversary. She laughed when I told the
boys about that day on the Ides of March 1969 wherein we
were married in a Catholic convent by a Jewish judge, three
elderly Catholic nuns were honorary maids of honor while
*the* maid of honor was a divorced Luthern lady and the
best man was an excommunicated Catholic priest. Even
though the morphine had caused her to lose hours at a
time (causing her to query often what day it was), Pat was
interested in life right to the end.

My sons are devastated. I am deeply saddened. Pat was
a good lady, a loving mother, a devoted daughter, and a
deeply caring lady. Her loss will be felt by the boys for
months, and Pat's world will the lesser for her passing.
Rest in peace, my old friend. VMS



Note: Written 17 March, 2008

Cross reference to Eulogies.