It has been a busy summer and I can hardly believe it is over.

I thought that perhaps by taking some time off from writing on this site that I would feel better.  Perhaps I was spending too much time here and maybe that was what was keeping me in such a missing Mark mode.

I don't think it helped and perhaps hurt more than anything.  I know that the feelings I have will never go away (nor do I really want them to) but it does help to put down how I am feeling day to day.

Michael and Daniel and myself spent a lot of time at Indian Hills (their most favorite place to go).  This year, Don even went with us very often.  He is somewhat a creature of habit and it takes him awhile to get into a different routine, but he too enjoyed going there.  Michael passed the swimming test and is now going off the diving board.  Daniel rarely wore his swimmies towards the end of the summer.  Joey thinks he can already swim and next summer I am sure he will be in good swimmie form.

We had a wonderful visit with Frankie when he came home.  He has made so many sacrifices for his family and Don and I are so proud to be his selected parents.  We were really happy that he and Stacy are rebuilding their lives together.  

In July, John and Tabby took some time away from the kids.  They had really never taken a long honeymoon and had not been away from the kids for more than 24 hours.  They took a nice cruise to the Bahamas and originally planned to return home, pack up the boys, and drive to Gulf Shores for a week.  The oil spill changed all that.  About a month before, Tabby told me that she and John thought it would be fun if Don and I flew to Orlando with the boys and met them there so the boys could get some beach time.  I told her to talk to her father in law and she did....ten minutes later we were booking flights.  It was an absolutely wonderful trip.  The boys and the grandparents did well on the flight to Orlando.  Joey squealed with delight at the ocean.  For a trip not really planned out in advance, it was probably one of my most favorite vacations.

While we were in Cocoa Beach, our good friend Marcus Engel and his Marvelyene came for a night.  I have lost track of how many years I have known them and with this visit was able to accomplish something that I always wanted to do...introduce him to John.  I regretted so much that he and Mark never met.  It was one of the highlights of our trip and it makes me happy when I hear John and Tabby talk about Marc.  

The rest of the summer has been spending time with Donnie.  He suggested that we change the bedrooms back.  When Mark got sick, our friends undertook the huge job of moving our bedroom into one of the smaller rooms so that Mark could have the largest bedroom.  We have a small house and I know that it was probably chaos in doing this.....but after almost a month in the hospital, it was nice to bring Mark home to his room that allowed enough space for his TV, his computer and his small sofa.

John had encouraged Don and I to do this three years ago.  I just couldn't and didn't want to do it.  I wanted things to be exactly as they were when Mark was here with us.  Even changing the shower curtain this week was a big deal to me.  It was the shower curtain Mark had in his apartment.  My mom and me had gone on a shopping spree to set up his apartment and we bought it on clearance at Garden Ridge.  It was an irregular and it the top was all uneven....but it was Mark's and for some reason I felt bad taking it down.

We did redecorate the living room last winter and I found out that all that really changes is perhaps the way I keep some of Mark's things.  My friend Patti at work commented to me that she believes that "Mark wouldn't give a rat's ass" about anything that I am thinking about as far as repainting rooms and changing things around.  I had to laugh....he probably wouldn't have cared and besides, I know he is here with us and sees the little changes anyway.

So, right now, we have a mess around here.  Don can't paint a room in one day anymore....usually it stretches out several days.  Maybe by the weekend we will be able to move our bedroom furniture back.

Daniel wasn't thrilled.  He told me that Uncle Mark's bed was in the wrong room.  Thanks, Danny.  That's just the encouragement Granny needed.  I explained to him that Mark's bed was now in the bedroom that had been Mark's when he was in kindergarten....and I think that settled it for Danny.

One thing I did do this summer was attend an event with the guy from Crossing Over...John Edwards.  If there is anything in the world I would like to do...it would be to talk to Mark or have him talk to me.  Lois had read that John Edwards was coming so we and a couple of other people joined about 500 other people at the hotel at Union Station.

Now, I went there with a totally open mind.  I mean, who am I to say that having a medium, a reader, or whatever doesn't work?  I was open to anything and within about the first half hour, I had my message.

It's all a crock.

I sat there and looked at the people...all desparate for something from the other side.  I wondered why they were there.  I figured that most of them had lost someone very dear, that was obvious.  I then thought about who they had lost.  Some of them perhaps parents, spouses, friends....but I was sure it was mostly children.  I think I was right.

There were people there with stuffed animals.  There were people hanging on to every word.  I think that the guy is somewhat tuned in to why people are there and if you mention enough names, enough settings, after about 20 statements, you are going to have two or three that are pretty near.  He gives himself a lot of leeway....if he says a name that starts with M....such as Melvin....then you can also use Mark...because "he only gets the intitial".

After about 45 minutes I wanted to take the microphone from him and tell him I could do a better job than that.  It is amazing how I can figure people out, especially people in crisis.  It is part of what I do at work.  You watch the body language, the facial expressions...plus you have the added bonus of knowing that there is something going on.

This was not a cheap night.  Tickets were $175.  People were desparate for information and at the end...they said that you could sign up for smaller groups that were offered only to those people who came to one of these events.  I wanted to know the cost so I signed up online.....$500 for a session with 50 other people.

One thing though...the people who did feel that he made connections....they seemed to be so happy even through their tears.  And I will say this for John Edwards....he never ever said anything negative.  He always left them with something positive...such as telling a mom who had lost her child to drowning that she should work with the YMCA or some other organization so that parents would be alerted to dangers of having a pool.  Positive things.

Was I disappointed?  No.  I do know where Mark is.  I do know he is at peace.  I do know that he sends me signs all of the time.  I learned that I don't have to look any further than our own home to know he is still here with us.

I have heard from so many people this year about the abundance of dragonflies.  I have seen a couple....one on Father's Day in our backyard while Don and I were sitting under the gazebo talking about him.  It just hovered over us for the longest time.  Then, waiting to get on the plane and sitting at the gate watching the jets fly....no grass anywhere, just concrete.  There flying in front of use on the other side of the glass was the largest dragonfly I have ever seen....telling me that I would be fine on the flight (I hate to fly.)  It gave me such peace.

Then, every time I would go to Indian Hills....I would see one.  So would Michael and Danny.  Maybe that is the other reason I enjoyed going there....I knew Mark would be there as well.

This summer people have seen them everywhere...and at times a lot of them.  My coworkers told me there actually was one flying around on the hospital elevator.  I like how people tell me about them and then they all tell me that they immediately think of Mark and tell him hello.  I love it.

In one more month Don and I will again be going to the Caribbean to spend Mark's birthday.  This time, Don's sister will be going along with us.  It will be so good for them.

I plan on looking for signs of Mark.....and I will see them.  

Don and me are doing fine.....it has been a busy month.  We have been away for a few days and am enjoying some respite time from work, and just life in general.  I am unable to load pictures right now but will when we get home very soon.

I suppose everyone has a bucket list of sorts.  There was one thing that I wanted to accomplish on this trip that I never got to do with Mark and that was introduce one of my most favorite people in the world to John.  Mission accomplished.  John was able to meet and spend a little bit of time in between his Daddy duties with my friend, Marcus Engel and his lovely wife, Marvelyene.  It was a very special meeting for me.

Lots of thoughts, lots of things to put here but I am going to wait until I get home.  Yet, one small thing:   I am not a really good airline passenger.  Typically I have to sedate myself to get on a plane but this time I could not.  Don and me agreed to meet John and Tabby in Florida and together we took three little boys on the plane from St. Louis to Orlando.  No drugs for Granny!!!!  I had to tough it out.  I must say at Lambert I was missing my sedation.  We had a little bit of a wait before we got on the plane and sat at the gate by the windows watching the jets take off.  Something kept flying around right in front of us outside and it wasn't a plane.

It was a huge dragonfly....absolutely huge.  I imagine a dragonfly would have to be big to withstand the jets....but there it was.  My first dragonfly of the summer that I saw by myself......telling me that things would be ok, and enjoy the time with the boys.

Thanks, Markie.  I needed you right then and I kept thinking of that "sign" throughout the flight. 

Three years ago today I was up at this hour sitting on the veranda, trying to figure out what a mother does on the day of her son's funeral.

It was quiet, Don was still asleep and his sister, Jean, was here.  I was emotionally exhausted.  More so than any other day that week.

Mark's death on that Wednesday morning created a funny type of calm.  Like a terrible storm had happened and we all were looking around surveying the damage that had been left in its wake.

It WAS different that morning.  The house had been freed of all medical equipment.  Housekeeping tasks had been taken care of by our dear friends.  Mark's room no longer had the hospital bed, and his queen size bed had been replaced shortly after he died by our neighbor, Mae, and my good friend Mary LeGrand.  There was food to last for days.  Flowers had been delivered to our house and it smelled glorius.

We had spent the past two days at the funeral home.  When Mark died on Wednesday, we knew that we wanted his funeral time to be able to accommodate as many of his friends as possible.  That is why we had visitation on Saturday.  John was emphatic that Mark not be buried on Tuesday because this was Don's birthday.  John and Don decided Monday would be best because they felt Wednesday would be too far away.  I mentioned Sunday and they said no.  Two days would be too long and they felt that Sunday would give everyone a breather.  I think John also wanted to spare Don the future reminders of a unsettled Father's Day memory of 2007.

Despite that there were people at the house...despite that we were going to go to the funeral home to make arrangements...despite that there were phone calls to make....people to hug...I went and sat on the veranda.  I sat there and cried.

I believed then, and at one point even spoke to Mark about it...that I felt it was important for John to have the final say in everything.  Even though Don and me are Mark's parents, I have always known it was John who Mark loved most of all.  It was John who Mark wanted to please.  I recall cautioning Mark about the dangers and temptations of drugs when he was going into junior high.  "I would never do drugs," he told me.  I told him I was glad that he realized the dangers.  "Yeah, I don't want John kicking my ass," was his reply.

I understood John's thinking in terms of the funeral arrangements.  Yet,as his mother, I could not bear the fact that Mark's body would be up at Kutis, and I would be here at home.  I thought about it,and decided that even though there was not going to be a Sunday visitation, I would spend the day at the funeral home, even if I was alone.  My boy was not going to be in a open room all day by himself.

So, on the veranda I cried.  John came out and I told him that I couldn't bear that Mark would be up there alone, and I would be spending Sunday at the funeral home.  He made the change then and there...there would be Sunday visitation.

I remember feeling as though I was at a wedding....so many people to see, to hug, to talk to.  I never ever felt that I spent enough time with each visitor.  I was so grateful that people who I know very well would come up and tell me who they were.  I guess my disorientation showed.  It remains very much of a fog.

I know I took frequent breaks.  I don't think John or Tabitha ever did.  I know they greeted everybody who came in.  I remember Mark's friends lining up and each giving Don a white rose...from them, from Mark, for Father's Day.  I was so proud of them.  I still think of each of Mark's friends as an extension of him.

I remember planning his funeral.  I remember walking in on John and Mark and being told to leave the room.  They were working out the particulars.  Mark stressed over who should be his pallbearers.  He wanted everyone and in the end, picked two of his friends from early, early childhood, his cousins, and Frankie who he felt would represent his brother.  He was adamant that he didn't want Scott Pope.....he was worried about his grandmother and me.  He wanted Scott in what Mark termed "the audience" to be available to us.  He felt that Scott was just too close to have him do anything else.

I wrote the prayer intentions. When I asked him about who should do readings, etc., he said he wanted Tabby's father and grandfather to read from the Bible and he wanted Coach Gegg to read the intentions.   He hoped that Coach Heyde and Butch Marmon would "say a few things" as well as his brother.  Jeff Schnurbusch came to see us either the day Mark died, or the morning after, and asked if he could speak.  Mark also suggested his Uncle Mike, whom he adored, but said "it may be too hard for him."  Instead, his soulmate, cousin, Mick finished up the eulogies perfectly.

It was a very strange morning.  Getting ready, wanting to look nice for Mark.  Somehow, we got 24 balloons to our house that morning.  I don't know how we did it...just can't remember.  I wanted them for "the party" afterwards at the church.  I wanted something happy for Michael and Danny.

The limo picked us up just minutes after John and Tabby arrived.  Her aunt watched the boys at home during the funeral.

I just remember no one said anything at all on the way to the funeral home.  I worried that John was mad....but now realize that he was just very, very sad.

I remember nothing of that morning at the funeral home.  I only remember riding to the church and John telling us that he couldn't do his speech...that Mark was "well represented."  I struggled with thinking that he felt overshadowed....but in time have come to realize that it was asking too much.  He agreed to share it with us later and allowed us to put it on this website.  It's funny how three years can give one a better understanding of the emotions of a difficult day.

I remember the church was very crowded.  I remember our family putting the Baptismal cloth over Mark's casket.  I remember parts of the Mass, some of the things that happened.  It is still very much a cloud.

What I do recall, is the immense silence in the house that afternoon.  For days, no phone calls.  No visitors.  No tasks to take care of Mark.  Just emptiness.

That emptiness remains.  Three years doesn't make it go away.

I cry every single day.  Every single day.  I think I can make it through, think that things are better...and at some point, if only for 24 seconds, I still cry.  It is selfish...I am just a mom who misses her son.

I play games with myself to keep me amused.  I wonder what would be the first thing I would say to Mark if he were to call or walk in the front door.  I remember one time when I didn't think he would be home for my birthday.  I talked to him and he was on his way to the Giacosa Golf Discount in Memphis to pick up some clubs that had been delivered there.  He told me he was mad he couldn't come home but that he had made arrangements to get home later in the month.  We talked a few minutes, and then he had to go.  I went in to take a shower and cried and cried.  Then I told myself to snap out of it...he was happy, healthy...and isn't that the important thing?   I dried off, got dressed, did my hair, makeup and walked out of the bathroom.  Put my clothes down the laundry chute and went into the kitchen.  There, leaning against the sink in his classic Mark pose with his classic Mark smirk/smile....was my boy.

Seems everyone, although I am not sure about Don, knew about Mark coming home.  Tabby and John knew.  Mark had stayed at Gene's the night before.  He had been in town an entire 24 hours and I didn't know about it.  I had called him the night before...but of course, on his cell phone.  I never knew any different.

He came in to "help" with my surprise 50th birthday party.  I remember that he left MOST of it to John and Tabby and I don't think they were pleased.   It doesn't matter....it is a memory that I think of often, especially when I hope to find him leaning against that kitchen sink.

Don and I appreciate all the emails, facebook comments, cards, balloons from my balloon girls, visits and trinkets over the past week.  For some reason, that I now have figured out, I just couldn't plan a "Dragonfly Night."

I realized Saturday afternoon, that what I needed most this year was to know that there were people who remembered.  I am a bad one for dates....and the fact that people actually knew that these two days (June 12 and June 13) were important to us, gave me the lift that I needed.  People don't forget.  

Don and I did pretty well at Mass.  Tears didn't flow until the last five minutes and as much as I tried, they wouldn't stop.  Don and I were home alone at 8am, getting ready for Mass.  When Mark's grandfather clock chimed at 8am, we both stopped what we were doing, hugged, and commented that it was "Angel Time."  We had planned to go to the cemetery after church, but decided that the anniversary of Mark's first hour in Heaven should be spent putting flowers on his grave.

I actually hate that we use the silk flowers, but they do last longer.  There was a rose on his headstone.  I have no idea who left it...but I know Mark does and that is all that is important.  We put pretty red silk roses there.

Three years ago I sat on the veranda at 530 thinking.  Today, I am doing the same thing....thinking about the same person I did three years ago.

I miss you so very much, Mark.

There isn't any time of the year that I don't spend a lot of time thinking about Mark.  The time period between Memorial Day and June 13 always leaves me with a heavy heart.

I haven't written here this past week because everytime I try to, I start to cry. This website shouldn't even exist.  It is not right that this is where I come to when I want to put down my feelings when it originally was to be a place to report what Mark did on a particular day.

Believe me, I have spent a lot of time reading the old posts from June 2007.  Those posts always make me cry because I remember so much more than what had been written.  I remember his family taking off work to be with him and us, and the immense love we felt from his friends.

I couldn't bring myself to go to Golf Discount this past week.  We will try again this week.

I miss Mark so much.  I know Don does too.  It has been unusually quiet this weekend.  Don let me sleep most of Saturday.  Sunday we went to the pool, then came back and had a nice dinner.  Don is beginning to have a flare up of his RA and I suspect that adds to him being quiet.

We had NO phone calls all weekend. Not one.  The little red light on our phone never lit up.  Pretty strange.  Pretty lonely.

I know it is going to be a long week.  On Saturday afternoon we plan to attend a ceremony in Manchester.  My Mom has purchased a "brick" that will have my father's name in honor of his service in the Navy.  Don and me will then come home, light our dragonfly lights, and remember three years ago.

On Sunday at St. Francis, the 9am Mass will be in Mark's name.  He will have been in Heaven three years and one hour when the Mass begins.

For me, it has been eternity.

This weekend is Memorial Day weekend.....something that has special meaning for many families...and bittersweet memories for ours.

It was Memorial Day night, 2007, that Mark made a decision to halt treatment.  I think I will always spend this weekend remembering that night.  So many things were said.  So many emotions.  How can one be so devastated yet at the same time relieved that something horrendous was going to end.

I have looked for various hellos from Mark over the past week.  Two came in very special ways.  Two that I will have to go to the source to really appreciate, really remember.

The first was from a conversation online with my good friend, Donna Schumann.  She told me that she knew (Donna knows everything) that Mark's work ID badge had been found at the Fairview Heights store.  I contacted Tim and he told me that it had been found....and had been framed and hung with Mark's picture at the South County store.  He told us that we could have it.....but I like where it is.  Mark loved his Golf Discount brothers and for them to still remember him and put his picture and ID badge up....can't tell you how that meant.  I will be going to there sometime this weekend to see it.

The second was a dragonfly sighting.  I always look for them, and try to figure out why it is special.  This one, I know.  In 2001, a special little boy named Luke Maue went to the Zoo with his class.  He never came home.  He was killed by a drunk driver in front of the Zoo.  This week there was an article that a special bridge "Lukes Crossing" had been constructed.  There is a plaque telling all who cross over on this bridge Luke's story.  Words on a plaque that should never have been written.  The only other thing on this plaque is a dragonfly.  Luke's mom uses dragonflies for the same reason I do.

I pass by the Zoo every day I go to work.  I will be passing there again in about 30 minutes.  For now on, I won't even think of all that the Zoo has to offer.  I will be thinking of the one little picture of a Dragonfly, and hoping a superman of a son is maybe taking a little boy who just wanted to go to the Zoo with his class, on a ride on the Zoo train.

Remember everyone you loved who no longer walks with us.  

Special memories and thanks to my Dad, Donald Henderson, who is buried with his fellow comrades at Jefferson Barracks.

Today is my birthday.  I must say, I have had better ones.  I have a terrible head cold and Don has been feeding me cold tablets.  I don't have much energy and would prefer on this cold, rainy day to stay under the covers.

I am looking forward to going over to John's in a little bit.  I called them to find out what time they wanted us, and if they still wanted to get together.  I didn't need to talk to anyone except the person who answered the phone...Michael.  He told me he had a "surprise" for me and he and Danny were doing decorations.  Suddenly, the cold tablets kicked in....or was it the excitement in Michael's voice that made me feel so much better.

Yesterday was Mother's Day.  Don and I went and did some grocery shopping and stopped by the cemetery.  Such an awful thing to do on Mother's Day...to "visit" one's child in a cemetery.  I wasn't happy with the way Mark's grave looked.  There were weeds and dandelions.  I did the best I could to "clean" it up.  It had been recently mowed and there were grass cuttings all over the stone and on Mark's picture.  Don commented that Mark had a "dirty face" so we cleaned that up the best we could.

Mother's Day really doesn't start for me until I see John.  He and Tabby came over and we had dinner.  I had already given John his Mother's Day gift and didn't even have a card for him.  They gave me a beautiful picture with a dragonfly that will look perfect in our living room.  I like how John and Tabby give gifts with a"Mark twist" to them.  I have a suspicion that if Mark were still with us, he would be having Tabby do some of his gifting for him.  I don't think she realized that she married just one brother, but both of them.

We found presents at two different times on our porch.  Like last year, someone had left a beautiful metal dragonfly.....just like last year.  Yes, I wonder who put it there, yet I know that the person who did this had the intention of me feeling/believing it was from Mark.  It was so very special.  We have gone around the house trying to decide where to put it and have decided the very best place will be in our bedroom, hanging next to the window over our bed.  Every morning we will wake up and it will be one of the first things that we see.  I will not only think of Mark, but also of some unknown person who has a kind, kind heart.  There was also a beautiful green dragonfly pin.....and I wore it all day long.  I posted a picture of the dragonfly and the pin....but cut me out of the picture as much as I could....I looked as bad as I felt.

Whomever (is that the right word?) did this last year, and again this year....please know that although I would love to know who you are, I don't want to.  I know Mark must have been important to you and you have a full understanding of my hurt, but mostly of my love for my sons.  Keep it your secret.  I think you already know that it is one of the most special parts of my Mother's Day and birthday.   The magic you hoped would happen for me, absolutely did.

My mom and Bob came over.  We had bought a beautiful hanging basket for her.  Bob remembered how much I loved the macaroons he made at Christmas and made me my own plate of them.  We enjoyed their visit with us.  It was during that visit that both Mom and Bob insisted that with my cold, I should not sit at Debe's bedside today during her chemo.  I feel so bad in letting her down.

My true Mother's Day gift?  Watching John and Tabby with my wonderful grandsons.  Such good parents they are.

I loved the messages and the cards I have received.  One special card came with a bag of goodies and a few necessities that I needed.  I know who they are from...my roomie, Debbie A.  I am not sure if she brought them when we were grocery shopping....but the card goes in Mark's cabinet.  It made me cry, made my mother cry, and made Don grin.  

Earlier in the day, I was flipping through the TV channels and stopped to watch a movie.  I have seen it a hundred times through John, Mark and now my grandsons watching it.  Yet, for me, on Mother's Day, it was my hello from Mark.  The card only reinforced it.  Superman.  Now, why would that be a movie to be played on Mother's Day.

Yet, I can't think of a more appropriate hello.

Whenever I think of those words, "I'm here" I immediately think of Mark.  There is magic in those two words...much more magic than I can ever put into my own words here.

Mark told me on the evening of Memorial Day 2007 that he was done with chemo, done with cancer, and only wanted to go home to sleep in his bed, be with his family and friends, and die his own way.  

I cried.

"Mom, ""I'm here and I will always be here.    I will never leave you and Dad and John."

Every day I think of those words.  It is very haunting to me how those two words, "I'm Here", came back to me again this evening.

My sister, Debe, who has so much going on right now, called me over a month ago.  She wanted to set a date to take me out to eat for my birthday.  Now, my sisters and brother are very close.  So close, in fact, that we have never felt compelled to celebrate each other's birthdays.  We remember, and in some cases we remember to send each other a card.  This was unusual that Debe wanted to take me out for my birthday.  I wrote it off as that she had a new look on things.  The chemo is making her more appreciative of the simpler things in life.  While this does remain true and that concept has hit all of us siblings, I found out tonight she had other motives as well as other accomplices.

After several phone calls and changed dates, we settled on this evening.  She was emphatic that she and Terry wanted to treat Don and me to dinner.  It was to celebrate my birthday and Don's retirement.  I both looked forward to this evening and also felt guilty.  It made me feel a little bad that Katie, Steve and Mike and Debbie weren't included.

We got to Westport right on time.  I thought it odd that she chose Westport.  It wasn't really a center place between Mehlville and O' Fallon but I figured since Debe gets out more than me, she would know the best place to go.  We actually met Debe and Terry in the parking lot and walked to the restaurant together.

Debe was unaware that the restaraunt had changed names and immediately left Don, Terry and me outside...in the cold drizzle.  Moments later, she came back out and told us we were in the right place.  The hostess acted as if she expected all of us and said something to effect "We are all ready for you."  She led us to a table for six....and I turned to Debe with a puzzled look.  "There will be six of us, someone else is coming and I won't tell you who.  That is part of your surprise."

Don immediately guessed that my Mom and her beau, Bob, would be coming.  No, we were wrong.  "Don't guess, you won't ever get it," she told us.  I finally figured out that she had arranged for babysitters for John and Tabby and any minute they would be walking in.

For those who don't know my sister, she is a lively, vivacious woman.  She kept us entertained while periodically looking over her shoulder.  After a few minutes, I saw my surprise and my heart absolutely melted.

Coming to sit with us was my wonderful friend, Marcus Engel, his wife, Marvelyne, and Marc's dog, Carson.  It was a total surprise, a total joy to see them.

Marcus was a patient of mine 16 or 17 years ago.  He was severely injured in a car crash caused by a drunk driver.  He was 18 years old and had his entire life ahead of him.....a life that changed in an instant.  I have always thought it interesting that my most favorite and challenging patients in my career/life have been named Marc, with a c or with a k .  There were several years where I had lost contact with him, then was able to reconnect with him in the past five or six years.

I am so proud of him.  He has taken what would be a disability to many and turned into something that helps so many people.  He, among many things, is a motivational speaker.  He is also an author.  A co-worker had attended one of his seminars and bought his book.  This co-worker brought it to work one night to show me that Marc had written about me.  Such beautiful things.

Even though I had not spoken to him in nearly 10 years, when I got home the next morning I looked up his phone number.  I called him, and when he answered I just said "Marcus...this is..." I never got my name out.  He said it for me.  He said he would never forget my voice.

We talked, emailed a couple of times.  I told him how it humbled me (and still does) that he remembered me, let alone write about me in his book.  He knew all the stories about John and Mark.  I told him of my joys of the football days and the excitement of Mark winning state in football.  I even attended a seminar at the junior college.  Afterwards, after I had him sign his book, I went and sat on a bench and just watched him.   I sat there and cried.  I was so very,very proud of him.

A year or so later, we learned of Mark's cancer.  My sister, Debe, had become a fan....no more of a groupie...of Marcus' and immediately contacted him.  I would get wonderful words of encouragement.   Mark got better and moved to Memphis.  At one point, Marcus was going to be in Memphis on a speaking engagement and Mark was going to arrange to play golf with him.  It never materialized, but I distinctly remember Mark's apprehension in playing golf with Marcus.

I told Mark that Marcus was a great guy and that they were cast from the same mold.  Mark knew this.  He had heard about Marcus ever since he could remember.  His apprehension stemmed that he felt if he played golf with Marcus, he would end up looking really stupid.

"Mom, if we play golf and I beat him...how does that look?  I am so mean that I would beat a blind guy at golf?  And if he wins....I look even worse 'cause it mean I can't even beat a blind guy."

I have chuckled with that conversation many times over the past couple of years.  I remember being so proud of Mark that he would open up his apartment to someone he had only heard about.  I was also happy at the thought that my two Marks would finally meet.  Both knew so much about the other.

When Mark got sick again, really sick, Marcus continued sending me positive thoughts and feelings. It was Marcus who encouraged me to continue this website.  In that respect alone, he has saved me thousands and thousands of dollars in psychiatric care.  He knew enough, that putting the hurt down in words can only have a positive outcome.  He learned it the hard way.

Mark died on a Wednesday morning.  Fate allowed, that even though Marcus was getting married and had moved to Orlando, that he was in town.  Debe and me met Marcus (along with Lois) for lunch two days later.  Debe was taking me out so I could get a new dress for Mark's funeral.  I wanted to look nice for Mark.  When I saw Marcus, I cried.  He just held me.  He shared my hurt.  I remember Marvelyne had tears in her eyes.  It was only the second time that I had met her.

I recall from that short lunch that I pretty much ignored Debe, Lois, and Marvelyne.  I consciously was trying to draw as much energy and support from Marcus.  He oozes energy, positive energy.  I know that I left that lunch feeling that I could face the next two days...that getting hugs and knowing others cared would be a big part of dealing with the loss of Mark.

I regret, so regret, that Mark and Marcus never met.  

We have kept in touch since then sporadically.  I have taken both his first book, and his second book, to administrators at Barnes.  I have shared his story here.  Marcus sent Meghan Hearst Carter copies of his book for Gateway MADD.  I am so very proud of his accomplishments.

Tonight, when he walked into the restaurant, I felt immense pride.  I was so happy to see him and was amazed at how Debe was able to arrange this.

He said he was in town as he had a speaking engagement at Missouri Baptist.  His new book was out.  I was thrilled when he pulled out copies for Debe and me.  Even though I knew this book was coming, and knew the title, when I saw the book my heart just raced and I could feel myself shake a little.

The title of his new book:  "I'm Here."

Now, he could have titled this book anything else.  I am quite sure those two words don't hold the same meaning for others as it does me.  Two words that help me get through the day because a beautiful young man, bald from chemo, thin from being unable to eat, had said to me almost three years ago to console me.  "I'm here, and I will always be here...."

I flipped through the book, looked at the table of contents, saw that he had already signed it for me,  but nothing was really sinking in.  I don't even know what the others were saying.  I laid the book down on the table next to my plate and just patted it.  I would stay up all night reading it.  

"She didn't see it." said someone.

Marcus told me "Look at the dedication page."

I did.  It said:

                         DEDICATION

               "For Barb DeWalle, RN and to the 

                    memory of Mark DeWalle,

              More than just a character in these books,

                       you saved my life,

            literally and figuratively, many times.

          I will always be honored to be your other Marc."

 

I was humbled, and of course I cried (which I am still doing).  It wasn't my name I saw...it was Mark's.

Don't ask me what the dinner conversation was about.  Don was just as humbled as me.  We looked at each other with tears in our eyes and knew that we would just have to talk about this in the car.  Don is a quiet man, but even more so when his emotions are tested.  He was overcome not only to finally meet the young man that I have talked about for so many years, but the honor that he had given to a young man he had never met.

I tried to put into words to Marcus and Marvelyne what this meant to me.  Marcus is stepfather to Marvelyne's two children.  They are parents.  I know they understand that all a parent wants for their child is to be happy, to be liked, to be loved and to be remembered.  Of all the kindnesses that have been given to our family over the loss of Mark, to have a book dedicated to his memory is something I will.....I just don't have the words.

I am so humbled because there are SO many people who have a part in Marcus' successes.  I remember when Markie was dying, I "channeled" Marc's mom.  She would stand at his bedside, trying to help him open get well cards.  Names would be read and Marcus would cry.  Unknown to him, his mother would stand next to him and start to cry, stifling her sobs.  I remember having to turn my head because I couldn't understand how a mother could be so strong when something so wrong was happening to her boy.   There were literally hundreds of nurses, doctors, therapists, family members, friends who Marcus could have dedicated this book to.   I am far down on the list.

It is something I will cherish for the rest of my life.  It is also the magic that I thought I wouldn't see anymore.  It is a new Mark story.  A new item for his cabinet.  It is a reminder of the promise Mark told me that he was here and always would be here.

The book is about "compassionate communication in patient care."  It is Marcus' story.  It also is Mark's.  Finally, it is mine. It is a reminder to me that I don't have just a job, I also have a mission.

Such a memorable evening.  I can't wait until tomorrow when I go to Missouri Baptist to hear my friend speak.

I just noticed that it has been almost a month since I posted here.  It isn't because I haven't thought about it or have been back here to read.....I think it is an accummulation of many things.

The days seem to roll into one another after a time.  I have missed posting about many things, many thoughts.  Some of it I just can't put into words.

I was having some more major computer issues at the beginning of the month.  I had to wait until taxes were done so I could totally erase everything and do a total system recovery.  For someone who is not real smart on the workings of a computer, I was successful in at least erasing everything that was on the computer and slowly getting it back where I could be online.

During this time, Don's sister, Jean, came back for a visit.  She brought a picture (which I will post) of her burying a Mark bracelet on the beach at Fakara, Tahiti.  We enjoyed her brief stay with us.  She has a lot friends that she likes to visit and I am glad that she feels comfortable staying here.  I told her this was her "Bed and Breakfast" and Don told her that it was only her "Bed" because neither one of us were going to get up and fix her breakfast.  So much for being a great hostess.

I am still having computer issues.  I can no longer, for some reason, get the wireless to work..even though the computer says I am connected.  Then, even when I am online with the cable connected, I can't seem to watch videos and seem to get booted quite often. I am officially putting out the word if any one can help me with this...I am open to suggestions.  I know my nephews could probably fix it in a second but they are busy with school, work and whatever.  Just is very frustrating.

Throughout the month...every single day....I still miss Mark.  I was glad that we had a an Angel Mom meeting last week.  I was interested in what "stage" each of the moms were in and have decided that there is no set time, no set stage, to go through.  I know that there are signs that I am "better"....one being that I don't feel I have to write every single night.  Instead, I am a little more comfortable, a little more stable with just having my thoughts.   There is no difference in my emotional status than what it was almost three years ago.  I still cannot wrap it around my head that Mark is not here.

Yet, I still get enjoyment over thinking of him every hour of the day.  I wonder how he would feel about his Dad finally giving up the truck.  It had over 190,000 miles and was starting to cost us money that we don't have, so he traded it in for a car.  I am dreading the extra payments we will have but as I like to say, "it isn't the worst thing that has ever happened to us."  I think Mark would like Don's car.

I have been working every sunny day that I can on the back yard.  So much of what we planted the past two years has just come up and it is starting to look really nice.  Mark's angel garden needed only a few annuals put in.  I decided not to put the pink Mandevilla vines back this year.  They have to be purchased and bought every year so we planted two small rose bushes where those would have gone.  They are still pink....in honor of Mark's girls who stuck with him until the end.

We liked how the morning glories gave us privacy last year so Don and I spent an afternoon planting those.  I noticed today that all of them are taking root really well....and some from last year are even coming back.

The Lily of the Valley that my Angel Moms shared with me are back.  Don and me spent a lot of hours clearing the mess that was alongside the back of the house.  Now that Sage behaves herself (perhaps it is her older age) and doesn't have to be chained all of the time, we have taken what used to be her area and Don put in a vegetable garden.  I took a small area and now have a little dragonfly birdbath that my mother gave to me.  I put our small fountain right next to it and it took Joey no time in discovering how much fun it is to play with.

Every minute I am planting, every minute we are doing something in the backyard, I am thinking of Mark.  It is the way I feel that I am able to keep moving, keep doing something positive.  It is my special sanctuary to think about him.  Everything we have placed back there has some tie in to Mark.

I wrote a real long letter to Mandy, and wondered the other day why I never heard back.  I know why....I found it in one of my purses.  I had never mailed it.  I am going to charge my phone and call her.  I thought about her a lot this month.  Her birthday was the 15th or 16th, can never remember which one.

I remember that three years ago........THREE years ago.....she flew in with Tyonn to go to Mark's golf tournament.  It was one of the happiest times for him during those final six months.  I feel so bad that I didn't talk to her this year, or that she didn't get the card and letter I sent her.  I must remember to charge my cell phone tonight so I can call her tomorrow afternoon.

I have been miserable this weekend with a toothache.  It was rough working Thursday night, unbearable Friday night.  I called in Saturday night...something I just never ever do.  I spent most of the weekend asleep.  Don called the dentist on Friday morning for me and got me prescriptions for antibiotics and pain medication.  Tomorrow I go and get this fixed and hopefully I will be back to normal.  I am fine if I don't talk......and that is hard for me to do.

So, I would take the pain medication and sleep.  Really sleep.  I had mentioned at Angel Moms that I had not had a dream about Mark for a long time.  Friday afternoon I did.  I had a dream that Don and me were in the back yard and we got a phone call.  It was from a police officer in Festus.  He said that he had just arrested Mark "and others" (the only one I can recall was Paul Dierker).  Apparently, Mark and his buddies had joined a softball league and they were "mouthing off" and so they were arrested.  Don and I went to the Festus jail to bail him out.  I yelled at the sheriff and asked him if he knew Mark had cancer. "Yeah, he tried to get me to believe that" was what he said.  I told him not only did he have cancer, but he had terminal cancer...and if Mark wanted to mouth off, he could.

It was funny, because in most of the other dreams, I know that Mark had died.  This one, he was still apparently alive.  Just to show you, I will never ever stop fighting for him.

It reminds me of another story of Mark...one that wasn't a dream and was true.  I actually found part of the video of this a little over a year ago.  Mark had arranged with some of his football brothers to go teepee some of the cheerleader's (sorry, Lisa) houses.  I remember he couldn't do Mandy's...or was afraid to...because it was in Jefferson Barracks and her dad was in the Air Force.  Anyway, both Don and I knew what was planned and we knew it was in good fun.  After all.....our house had been severely tp'd by John's cheerleaders a couple of years before (to the extent it was a two page spread in Mehlville's yearbook).  Mark was using my minivan.  He had taken the seats out so that they could put the hundreds of rolls of toilet paper in it.  He left fairly late in the evening and I recall that Erik Dessau was riding with him.  

About and hour or so later, our phone rings.  I saw on the caller ID that it was the police and took a deep breath before I answered it.  The cop said that he "had Mark" and was down at Ride the Rail pool hall down by Dairy Queen.  Was I aware that Mark was out after curfew????   I told him that I was.  Was I aware that he had the entire back of my minivan filled with toilet paper???  I told him yes.  "Apparently these boys are planning on doing something that is not good."  I told the police officer.....that these were good boys, that they were just participating in some harmless fun with some of their friends, and to quit making a big deal about it.  "You need to come get him because it is after curfew" the cop told me....I answered back.  "It will be a little hard because he has my car.  Just send him home."  Then he went into this big deal about Erik being there as well so I told him to call Erik's parents and they would OK him coming home with Mark....which is what happened.

Mark comes in the door a few minutes later laughing.  ""Mom, the cop said...Well, apparently your mom doesn't give a damn!!!!"  With him, in several cars, were some of his football brothers.  I remember that Scott Houska, Tom Kaesberg, Mike Mahler...and of course, Paul Dierker were with him.

So, I did what any respectful, good mother would do.  I drove them all around so that they could do their dirty work and not get arrested for being out past curfew.  Never did it cross my mind that I could be arrested.  Thank God, we were never caught.  The video is really funny, because I was really nervous, Mark was really excited, and at one point, I accidently leaned on the horn and the boys just let me have it.

As I was writing this, I looked over my shoulder at the posters of Mark's pictures we had on display at his funeral.  There, in the center, is a picture I took of the culprits before we headed out.  In the picture, Mark iskneeling down...smiling, laughing so hard....and Scott Houska and Tom Kaesberg are proudly holding packages of toilet paper.   I am posting it HERE so I can always have it available to me.

These are the things that make me smile.....even though I have taken too much time to write these down.

Sometimes I am crying when I am posting.  Tonight, I am smiling. 

I keep things of Mark's near me.  We still have his Memphis sweatshirt and his khaki shorts, complete with his belt, hanging with some of his other clothes in our closet.  Items that others would throw away....a pen that he chewed on, scraps of paper he wrote on....have become treasures to me.

I guess part of it is the packrat in me....but mostly I keep trying to hold on to him in even the smallest of ways.  Anything that I can hold seems to help my heart.  Some things, though, are not tangible and I cannot just put in a cabinet or set on our dresser.

A couple of weeks ago I commented to a young co-worker that Ziggy had now come into being.  She had no idea what I was talking about.  She was using her I-phone on break and it occurred to me that the I-phone was very much like the computer that Al used on Quantum Leap.  I had to explain the entire show to her and it made me want to watch it again.

Mark discovered reruns of Quantum Leap while he lived in Memphis.  We would Instant Message each other and I would tell him of episodes I liked.  He liked how Sam would say "Oh boy" at the end of the shows and would often sign off on the computer to me with an "Oh boy." 

I went home on a Saturday morning and spent several hours watching Quantum Leap on Netflix.  I was really enjoying them until I got to the episode where Sam leaped back to his parents' home.  I couldn't watch anymore.

Coupled with my memories of Mark watching the reruns and telling me about them, came the so strong wishes that it wasn't a television show, that I wanted Mark to leap home to us.  If something like Ziggy became possible over the years, why shouldn't the possibility of Mark leaping home become real?  I wish there was an episode of Mark coming home.

I thought that maybe I would amuse myself and write a story of Mark leaping home....but couldn't do it.  Nothing was going to make that come true, so I put it aside until yesterday.....and perhaps a leap home was made.  Something to give me something of Mark's that I can't put in his curio cabinet, hang in the closet, or set on the dresser.

I had been going through pictures yesterday.  I was looking for a picture of the MODOT sign that was at Mark's first golf tournament.  My mother is retiring today.  She will be 80 soon, and I guess she just figured out that she didn't have to work any more and could start enjoying life.  There will be a party for her at work this afternoon and she was looking for pictures.  Nothing like waiting until the last minute!!!

I went through a few things, and then stopped.  I couldn't look at any more.  I stumbled upon something that stopped both Don and me in our tracks.  Something that we couldn't put on our dresser.

In 2004, Tim Watkins organized the golf tournament for Mark.  It became Mark's incentive for continuing chemo and he knew near the end of the chemo would be this golf tournament.  It was held in June.  The tournament was just awesome and I still can remember Mark's excitement.

We took lots of pictures that day....ones that would not be able to be taken when there was the second tournament in 2007.  My dad, for one, was there.

Tim's brother, Dan Watkins, is a photographer.  He worked hard that day, taking pictures, getting them developed.  He sent us a DVD of the tournament.  I remember watching it, but apparently had forgotten its contents.

I thought that perhaps there may be a picture of the MODOT sign my mother's job had paid for.  They had helped sponsor the tournament with donations from my mother's office and had sponsored a hole.  So, I sat there and watched the pictures of all the golfers...and then it turned to video.

I don't know why I had not remembered that there was video on this disc.  I got to watch Mark tee off and I know I am his mother and I know nothing about golf or golf form......but Mark was awesome teeing off.  I was so thankful to have this.  Yet...the video continued.  There was the announcing of the different flights and I wondered if Dan had captured Don trying to make a thank you speech (he did!!).

I kept watching the video of Mark.  I don't have any "recent" video of Mark.  All I have been able to go through are the ones of him as a baby and little kid.  I enjoyed so much being able to see Mark on this video walking, smiling.  I liked watching how his friends would pat him on the back.  I liked seeing the interaction...although I couldn't hear it....between him and Andrew Brockmeyer.  Although I could watch Mark saunter around, I could see that smile and at times smirk of his...I couldnt hear him.

I could see how through this episode of chemo....Mark still looked relatively good.  He did look tired and I noticed how his shoulders drooped toward the end.  Everyone else was walking, Mark was sitting down.  I remembered he was exhausted that day.

What I had not remembered was that Mark had given a little speech.  At the 7:00 point of this video, I heard Mark's voice for the first time in almost three years.

Don and I listened to our son speak, and both of us had tears running down our faces.  We played it again, then again, then again.  Don said "We have to make lots of copies of this, we have to get it so John can hear it."

One would think that we would have remembered this video.  We didn't.  I cannot even count the number of times I have reloaded it just to hear Mark again.  We immediately sent Tim a note via facebook to let him know how much we loved watching and hearing Mark again.  Dan has since posted the video on Facebook and it can be found here:  http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.danieljwatkins.com%2Fvideos%2Fdewalle04.wmv&h=e749b733957b4a8df27c4a36dc16a4c7

Go to the 7:00 point and hear Mark talk about how important Golf Discount was to him. 

Many, many thanks again to Dan Watkins.  I don't think Dan will ever realized what a gift he has given to us. 

For me, it was Mark's leap home.

Oh, boy!!!

Debe has started her battle. 

I called her Sunday to let her know that I was thinking about her and was here for her.  She and Terry seem to have everything under control.  They have an enormous support system of friends and family....the most important arsenal they could have at this time.

I was a little concerned that Debe may not even be able to start her chemo on Monday.  She had laryngitis.  Not sure if it was from her being out in the elements during the St Pat's celebrations or what....but we both knew that when she presented for her first chemo that the decision to wait a week or so may be on the books.  I told her that I would not call...that if she wanted to talk to me or if Terry needed anything we would be available.  Otherwise, just let me know if they didn't start anything.

Late Monday afternoon we got a phone call from her.  She still had her laryngitis but she called to ask me a question about her medications for nausea...so I knew that she was underway,

I absolutely hate cancer.  There is nothing funny or cute about it.

Maybe I am a little jaded, but something that has been in the news as well as on fliers around the hospital have me a little perturbed.

I realize that there is a great importance in raising money to find cures for cancer.  I realize that efforts in the past twenty, thirty years are not only going to benefit my sister, but my patients.  In some small respect...they helped Mark. I know that some of the medications that Mark took (some of the same Debe is taking now) helped him fight off the effects of the cannons of chemo that they gave him.

We knew from the beginning that there was little to offer Mark.  He had an orphan cancer...too rare for specific research at the level that other cancers have.  Too little information, too few people actually living five years after being diagnosed.

Perhaps we should have donated more of his benefit money towards the little amount of research that is there for DSRCT.  Mostly, it is in the form of general sarcoma research, and even then DSRCT is given little consideration.  Just too few people, too few grants....no money to be made even if they did find a cure for it.  I am a realist. 

We did donate a portion of the money to the Livestrong Foundation. Mark's death certificate lists the cause of his death as testicular cancer, which is actually wrong.  The person who signed Mark's certificate never examined him, never knew what was really killing him.  Just a formality done through hospice.  That was his initial diagnosis...the one we had wished we could have kept.  The truth was, he had something that had no treatment.  Yet, we as a family, believe that Mark's understanding of self exams was probably the one thing that allowed us to have him a couple of years longer than we did.

Every October I am bothered.  It is Mark's birthday month and everything is pink.  I wish that there was a month where everything was yellow so that the awareness of testicular cancer was just as prominent as it is for breast cancer.  Don't get me wrong.....I think it is marvelous that there is such a strong support for breast cancer awareness...just wish it were the same for testicular cancer.  The advances made in breast cancer research have benefited all cancers...so much of it is overlaps.  The marketing of breast cancer research is fabulous.  They found a way to make awareness without being cute or funny about it.

I can't say the same thing for other cancer research.

I suppose it doesn't really matter in the long run.....any way to get people aware of a particular cancer should be the final goal.  Anyway to get people to participate, to donate, to be aware.

Yet, the Undy 5000....just plain bothers me.

The Undy 5000 is an event that is to allow for the awareness of colorectal cancer.  It is called a "brief run" to fight colon cancer.  Yes, people run in their underwear to "make people think about their bottoms". 

OK, I get it.  I know that colorectal cancer is not the most glamorous of topics.  It is not one that would be the topic of conversation at the dinner table or sitting around with friends...unless of course, they could be talking about people running around in their underwear.

I just don't like that it is cute or funny.

Most people don't know what Mark was truly facing that last May. The largest of Mark's tumors was circling his lower bowel and invading his colon.  Most don't know that the surgery he was to have would have left him with a colostomy.  He didn't like talking about it.  He was worried about it and hung on to the possibility that someday he could be reconnected.  He was scheduled to have the surgery the day after Memorial Day.  We went to see the the surgeon the beginning of May.  The day Mark entered the hospital the last time, was the day before his visit to the enterostomal therapist.  They were going to draw on his abdomen the spot where the colostomy would be.  The appointment was postponed to later in the week.  That Thursday or Friday, the surgeon came to Mark's room.

Butch was there when the surgeon told Mark that they just couldn't do the surgery yet.  His GI tract had totally stopped and was essentially paralyzed.  They would have to wait to see if chemo would help.

I imagine, in some respects, Mark was relieved.  He knew deep down what the doctor meant...that he probably would never be able to have the surgery.  Mark didn't want the surgery but was willing to go through with it if were to keep him alive.  I know, in my heart, it was at that moment when Mark decided to put a stop to everything.

I find nothing cute or funny about any of it.

I don't like the idea of turning something so horrible into something with a cute or funny twist to it.  I have done a lot of thinking, trying to imagine what Mark's take would be on all of this and decided he would have thought it was funny.  He liked to make jokes about the testicular cancer aspect of it, and perhaps he would have been all for people running in their underwear to raise awareness.  It is his mom that just wouldn't find it funny.

Despite that I don't like the marketing aspect of it all....I am donating this month's Mark DeWalle Benefit Fund money to my coworkers who are participating in this event.  It isn't much....just $50.  I have to be careful how this money is spent but maybe others who are reading this will want to contribute as well and help my floor's team reach their $500 goal.  You can reach the team website at http://support.ccalliance.org/site/TR/5K/UndyNEW?team_id=7310&pg=team&fr_id=1210.
 
Maybe they will find a cure so another mother doesn't sit up nights wondering how she is going to explain to her son why he has to have this surgery.

My mother and my sister-in-law, Mary and myself had an absolutely wonderful time on our trip.  One would think that three women living in one small room for five or six days would have problems.  Not once did we ever get into each other's way nor in each other's hair.  Talk about perfect travel companions.

Mary is a special lady.  I recall one day three years ago when I needed to go to the doctor.  I had been cancelling appointments because I never seemed to be able to go and leave Mark.  I knew that my doctor would see me right away because she knew what I was dealing with at home.   Mark felt that he would be ok alone, but it was one of his "off" days.  He wasn't doing well and I just didn't know what to do.  He was particular about who "watched" him.  Some days he would want be OK with one person....other times not.  I suggested one or two people, and then he said "See if Aunt Mary can come over."  I called Mary and within twenty minutes she was here with her book.  She knew that Mark wasn't in the mood for conversation but was here if he needed anything.

One special thing that happened on the trip was that finally one of Mark's golf balls is forever in Jamaica.  He wanted to go there so bad when he was first diagnosed.  My mother and Mary buried one of his golf balls at the beach in Ocho Rios.  I know there are special memorial sites in various places throughout the world.  A patient of mine took one of Mark's bracelets and buried it in India.  There are bracelets left at the bottom of the sea by his cousins in Cabo.  There is one buried in the Hawaiian beach by the young man I met at Disney World.  There is the one Don and me buried in Aruba.  Frankie is going to take one and bury it in Iraq next week.  And then, the special one Don buried just one month after Mark died at the beach of Paradise Island near Atlantis.  I think it is a very neat thing to do....and I love thinking of all the different places Mark's bracelets and golf balls have left.

I missed having Don on the cruise.  He would have loved the day/night when the seas were so rough that the cruise ship cancelled all the entertainment and closed the pool deck.  The waves were unbelieveable and one couldn't walk down the halls straight.  I was glad we had a balcony.  We sat out there a lot and never got motion sickness.  We were rocked to sleep that night..quite literally.

It is against the law...not sure whose law but some maritime law....to discard anything off the ship.  ANYTHING...paper, food, cigarette ashes....anything.  I broke it, though.  I took off the leukemia awareness charm I have been wearing since Christmas.  Debe gave it to me.  She starts chemo this Monday.  Something told me that the best thing to do was to toss that charm as far as I could into the sea.  I told her that she can go ahead with the chemo plans if she wants, but I am sure she doesn't need it since I tossed her leukemia away.

Do, please, think of Debe in the next coming weeks.  She seems, so Debe like, to have everything worked out.  It is, however, the one obstable facing our family right now.  From this point on, I am on total Debe alert.  Whatever, whenever she needs something.....she's got it.  I know a lot of Mark's friends got to know Debe pretty well.  I know she is thinking of Mark a lot through all of this.  I know he is there with her.

I received a copy of the Bereaved Parents newsletter and there was an article in it about how important it is to hear out loud the name of the child that a parent has lost.  I know that Don and me mention Mark everyday.  We make sure that he is still here with us.  Yet,nothing helps us more than when we realize that his friends still think about him.

Frankie came home for two weeks from Iraq.  He brought Don and John head scarves/turbans...not sure what they are really called.  John was thrilled to have something like this for his class.  He brought also a certificate and an American flag.  The flag was flown on a military mission "In Memory of Mark David DeWalle."  Such a neat thing.  We put it in our Mark cabinet.

Saturday I ran around all day doing errands.  We had a special event happening on Sunday and there were some things that I needed to get done.  I stopped by John and Tabby's and "kidnapped" Michael and Danny.  They decided to go out to dinner, and I suggested I take the boys.  They were going to give me time to finish a few more errands, then bring us Joey.  When I got home with Danny and Michael, there was a tall, handsome guy standing in our kitchen talking to Joey and Don.

I was so happy to see Tom Kaesberg.  I was really happy that the boys were there because I think it is important for them to meet Uncle Mark's friends.  I told them that this was a very good friend of Uncle Mark's and that they had played football together.  I told Tom how much Danny was like Mark.  He said to Danny, "That is a very good thing to be....to be like your Uncle Mark"....or words to that effect.

It meant a lot to Don and me that Tom came by.  It meant a lot to the boys that they got to meet another of Mark's friends.  Danny told me after Tom left that Tom had said he was "good".  Tom said he would continue to keep in touch and come by.....and he always seems to do that.

I also got a nice letter from Mandy while I was gone but still haven't found the time to write her back.  I know she checks in here.....don't give up on me....I will get back to you this week.

I work tomorrow and am ready to go back.  I work just one day, then off for two so hopefully I will be able to contact Mandy during those two days.  Don and me spent some time in the backyard this afternoon, clearing off vines and just starting the preliminary work of getting the back yard and Mark's garden going. 

Yesterday was a very special day for our family.  Michael and John were baptized.  It is something that Michael decided he wanted to do and I have never met a little boy so excited and so happy to have Jesus in his heart.  I could describe the whole event here but I just lack the ability to do so.  Just leave it that the whole thing had two grandmas, two grandpas, one great grandmother and a very proud mama all in tears.  It was simply beautiful.

I work tomorrow and still have not unpacked my suitcase completely.  Maybe, I should just leave it so it is ready when I have the time and money to go again.  I know Don and me will go somewhere in October. 

Until then, I will spend my time thinking about getting Mark's garden going.....and always, always wishing he were here.

Today my mom and my sister-in-law, Mary are getting away.  We  have been planning this since last July.  By the time anyone else probably reads this, we will be on our way to Miami, then tomorrow take 5 day cruise to Jamaica and Grand Cayman.

I just can't go very long and not be in the Caribbean.  I love the blue waters and can spend literally hours just sitting and watching the sea.  It is what rejuvenates me.

When Mark was first diagnosed with DSRCT in January, 2004, he told me that he was "going to Jamaica."  He wanted to go somewhere warm, somewhere that looked like the Corona commericals.  He "needed to get out of Dodge."

He never got there.

We talked him out of going out of the country.  He went to Vegas instead. 

On Monday, we will be in Jamaica.  I have packed one of his golf balls and his Aunt Mary, his grandmother, and myself will find a perfect "Corona worthy" place to bury it.  Finally, after six years, something of Mark's will be in Jamaica.

I am up before anyone else.  Trying to get last minute details done before Don takes us all to the airport.  I like the quiet.  I look forward to spending some time on the open Caribbean Sea, just looking at the waves, remembering our blessings, and looking for those Caribbean rainbows and messages from Mark.

It is respite time...

To those of you who responded to my last entry with such positive vibes...thank you.  I went to bed finally after a long night of not being able to sleep and almost got up to delete it.  I ended up falling asleep instead.  It sounded so stupid to me as I thought about it and didn't want anyone to think that I was just really nuts.  So many times I have written here, "gotten it off my chest", and then deleted it.

I realize that my rantings are those of someone who struggles every single day with what has been given and taken away from me.  I can't change who I am or how I feel.  I am glad those of you who left messages and emailed me gave me the understanding just to leave here what I write.  It may not make sense.  I have never tried to be anyone but who I am.  Now, I realize that in coming years when my grandsons are trying to figure their granny out, they will have an understanding that is ok to feel lonely, afraid of the next day and that self reflection, no matter how strange it may come out, is ok.

This website started out as a means of giving daily updates to Mark's condition.  He didn't like discussing it much but I knew that there were many who were worried and concerned and not wanting to call him or us.  The original website was maintained by a friend of his Aunt Debbie's.  I found that as Mark's condition continued to get worse that we were in for the long haul.  I needed something to be able to keep Mandy, Lisa, Harlan, our families and other friends who were out of town what was going on with us here.

It also helped me reach out and ask for help and guidance on what to do.  I remember one particular night I was so worried about Mark.  He wouldn't eat, wasn't feeling well.  We had taken him to Butch's son's graduation party.  We had John come over and take a peak at him.  I think John knew things didn't look right but only said to Don and me "Mom, Dad, I think Mark just did too much this past week.  I think he is worn out."  I know John knew differently.  He, as he has been since Mark first got sick, the parent figure in this family for more than just his sons. 

I mentioned on the web page I just didn't know what to do.  Within hours, Kris Heyde called me.  She said that I should call Mark's doctor first thing in the morning....or did she want me to have her call him?  I said I was only afraid that I wouldn't wake up in time to reach him.  So, Kris called and made sure I was up at 7am.  That was the day we took Mark into the hospital for the very last time.

There is power in the Internet.  This was social networking at its finest.  I broke every HIPPA law known to man during this time.  I don't ever remember asking Mark if it was ok if I mentioned anything at all.  I tried to be very discreet and at the same time try to convey what was going on here.  I remember many times sugar coating things.  I remember keeping some of the hurt quiet.  I did this because I knew Mark was reading every single thing that I put in.

How he loved reading those guestbook entries!!!!!  Even when we brought him home with hospice, he would ask every morning, every evening, how many "hits" there had been on the website, who had left messages.  It was only on the Sunday or Monday  before he died that he quit asking.  This is also when he stopped answering his phone himself.  He didn't ask for his computer anymore.  Only then, did I get a little more detailed as to how he was feeling, how we were feeling.

My own desktop computer is filled with viruses.  I started using his old desktop computer, but it even needs some TLC.  I now am using his laptop.  Funny, how that even seems ironic and special to me.

Markdewalle.com has now become one of my best friends.  As the time since Mark's death grows, so does the entries and guestbook messages.  It is the one thing of Mark's that continues to thrive.  It doesn't matter if anyone checks in on it.......although if you are reading this now, you have no idea how much strength that gives me.  It is the one of the places I can come to, read funny stories about Mark, look at his friends, and relive through re-reading the entries made when he was with us.

I had no clue how to setup a website.  I just randomly looked online and this company seemed to be one I could use.  I have never ever regretted it and have signed on to it for at least nine more years.  Maybe in nine years, there will be something different I can do....but I will always have my thoughts, memories of this time kept safe.

We are about 450 visits away from 90,000.  That is 70,000 visits or so since Mark died.  Many of those are mine.  I read this site frequently looking back at what was happening one, two and soon three years ago.  In the early days, when Mark was still here, those 450 visits would take only a day.  Now, it will probably take several weeks.

I would love, by June 13th, if there were 100,000 visits.  That won't happen.  Yet, that is the next goal I look towards for this site. 

Last evening was an Angel Mom meeting.  Just four of us this time.  But, like every other meeting, it is something I truly cherish.  I don't think that going anywhere else, talking to anyone else, has as much meaning.  I told Gwen last night how I remembered the Friday night she came to the football game after Kevin had died.  I was so proud of her.  I knew it was hard for her and she trembled as people greeted her.  Mark had told me earlier that he had to work late at Golf Discount and wasn't sure he would be there.....I called him on the telephone and told him Mrs. Houska had come to the game.  Not sure how he did it, but he got off work and within twenty minutes was sitting with me in the stands.  I pointed out where Gwen was sitting.  I knew that is why he came.  "Go see her," I told him, "I know she came to be near Kevin's friends."

"No, I just want to sit here and look at her."  He was so quiet for awhile.  "She is really special."

He adored Gwen.  I know that when he became so sick, he knew it would be Gwen who would be one to help me through and sort things out.

It has been 2 1/2 years now for me.  It has been much longer for her.  Still, at least I do, find much comfort being around her and the other Angel Moms.  I can tell Gwen things....things that people close to me said or did that I still have hurt feelings over.  She understands.  And more so.....I don't have to worry about it going anywhere else. 

I have found in these past 2 1/2 years that there are some things in life I must do.  At first I felt it was my mission not to let anyone ever forget my beautiful baby boy.  I have learned in time, that is not necessary.  People still think about him, hurt that this all happened.  People still email me and tell me that they are thinking of us.  I hope they never stop.  I will never, ever stop needing that.

I also know that there is no way I will ever be able to "repay" people for the kindnesses that were sent our way.  The prayers, the cards, the donations so I could stay home and care for him.

I just know that every single day I must try and be good, be kind to people, and do everything in my power to earn the gift of being able to have been Mark's mom.  I want to go to Heaven, I want to see my Mark again. 

The other day, as I was cleaning out Mark's curio cabinet, I found a check.  It was a check I had long ago forgotten about.  I realized today that I had never "entered this memory" into this website.  It does, in a peculiar sort of way, go along with what we have to do in life.

I remember first hearing the phrase "There's only two things you have to do in life....die and pay taxes," when I was in 7th grade.  It is something I never forgot, and whenever I hear it, I think of y 7th grade Social Studies teacher, Mr. Swan, saying it.

This check is a testament to it.  I scanned it and put in HERE so everyone can see it.  It is a refund check from the State of Illinois for Mark.  It is dated:  June 13, 2007, the day he died.

It is the only thing, other than his death certificate, that I have that is dated like this.  If ever a document validated this old saying, this is it.

I remember when it came, I was going to deposit it in his checking account and transfer it over to the Benefit Fund.  I had several checks that day and as the teller started going through them, I caught sight of this check and saw the date.  I quickly asked her for it back....and she said "it has been endorsed," thinking that is why I wanted it.   I told her no, that I didn't think this one was to go in that account, and I just wanted it back.  I have never cashed it.

I do understand, over much thought, that Mr. Swan was not entirely correct.  There are more than two things I have to do in life......and none of them have to do with paying taxes.

It is 3:30am and I cannot sleep. 

I have had one of the worst head colds in the history of mankind this past week.  I felt it coming on when I was at work last Sunday night and it took everything...absolutely everything in me to get through the shift.  I felt bad calling in sick as there was a snowstorm coming and in my 30+ years of working at Barnes, I have NEVER not made it in on a snowday.  I, along with Mary LeGrand, was one of those nurses in the famous 1982 snowstorm that was picked up by a four wheel driver hired by Barnes.  Little did that guy know that he was carting two pregnant nurses in to work.  Mary was pregnant with Melissa and I was pregnant with Mark.  I remember the two of us spent two or three days there before we ever got back home again.

I told our charge nurse that I wouldn't be coming in, went home, and literally went straight to bed for three or four days.  Now I can breathe again, but I can't sleep.

I have been thinking about all sorts of things.  Not necessarily worrying...but doing a lot of wondering.  I can't seem to get my mind to just relax.

I keep thinking about how happy my family is right now.  Some have decisions that will need to be made in the next coming weeks, but I know in good time everything will be fine.  I just hate that someone has something that is toiling with them.  I hope they realize how much on their side I am and that no matter what decision is made, I am here ready when needed.

I keep thinking about how happy my mom is.  Today is her sister's birthday.  My mom is the baby of her family and I think that her sister and brother still see her at times as the baby.  Mom has only another month or so before she finally retires.  I know a good reason for her retiring is that she has such a good friend with whom she hopes to spend more time.  She runs circles around me.  She is an inspiration to so many people.  I can spend time counting the next 12 years before I can even think about retiring......she could have retired more than 15 years ago.

I think about my brother.  I don't hear from him very often.  I follow what I can through Mom and know that his sons are doing well.  I miss talking to Mike and Deb, but they are busy with their own lives.

I think about Katie and how she works so hard for her family.  It is hard to believe that Kyle is as old as he is.  I missed watching him play baseball last year...a new passion for him.  I have made it a goal to get to as many of his games as possible.  The last "little league" baseball games that I went to were the ones Mark played in......and he was something to watch.

I think about Debe and how fast her kids have grown.  I am glad that she is feeling better now that she is out of the hospital and over her pneumonia.  I know it was worrisome for Terry and her kids but there is no one stronger than Debe in our family.

I think about John and Tabby and how other young marrieds must envy them.  They have three beautiful boys, have a deep faith, and care about each other so much.  The two of them always seem to know the right things to say, or to do for Don and me.  Just the other day they gave us a small stepping stone with a dragonfly on it.  It said "I am always with you."  Means so much that they make an effort to keep Mark's memory alive for Michael, Danny and Joey.

I think about how different this month is than two or three months ago.  Don's disability/retirement funding is just starting to come in.  I am no longer sitting up at all hours trying to figure out how to play the paying bills game.  The challenge isn't as strong as it was.  I am really glad about it.....I wasn't very good at it.

I talked to Don's sister, Jean on the phone tonight.  She mentioned, and I had to agree, that it is amazing given all the trials that have faced us, that we still stick together.  I am very fortunate to have Don, and realize at that same time that he is fortunate to have me......we both know we were lucky to find one another. He is the calm while I am the tempest.  We are a very good combination.  We are the very best of friends.

The trials we have been through seem to have started since the day we got married.  We have always been faced with challenges and interestingly enough, never challenges between the two of us.  They have always been outside evils that seemed to have been thrusted upon us.  Before we had been married five years, we had struggled to buy a house, then struggled to adjust to it financially....only to have a new baby four months after moving in.  Before our fifth anniversary, we had another baby and also lost both of his parents.  We went through terrible legal and financial hardships with a family business.  It took us years to recuperate.....and I think to a certain extent we are still feeling that backlash.  He supported my efforts to return to college.  We raised two boys. We went through months of unemployment when the economy was bad in the lat 80's.  We went through the trials of my father's failing health.  And then, we lost Mark.

Lost Mark.  I thought of that phrase earlier tonight.  In reality, we didn't really lose him.  I know exactly where he is....just where he told me he was going.  "I believe in Jesus, Mom.....I am going to Heaven.  It's going to be much harder on all of you, than it ever will be for me."

I find comfort in that.  I don't think anything else anyone could have told me would have eased the pain more than that statement.  He told it to me on four different occasions.  Once, when he wasin sixth grade.  We were in the car together and I was sitting at the stoplight at Union Road and Reavis Barracks, next to Hancock Fabrics.  Another time was when he came home from FCA Camp....so proud that he had been selected for the Courageous Heart Medal.  It would be several years before he said it to me again.....this time up at Barnes in 7927.  I was having a quiet anxiety attack over a CT scan that was going to be done the next day.  I asked him if he was worried about it.

"No, not really.  It doesn't really matter."  Then he asked me if I was worried about it.  I just couldn't answer him directly...he knew anyway.  I started to cry and he asked me why I was crying.

"I just worry that something will happen to me.  Who will take care of you the way I think you should be taken care of?"

"Mom", he said, "nothing is going to happen to you.  If the scan isn't good, then it isn't good.  It won't matter.  I am going to Heaven.  I win either way."

The last time he told me was the night we were alone....the late evening of Memorial Day 2007.  He told me he was done, it wasn't anyone's fault, and that he wasn't afraid.  "I believe in Jesus, Mom, I am going to Heaven."

I know he had conversations with John.  I imagine at some point he had talked to Mick about his faith.  I think this is true because when I gave Mick the cross from Mark's casket and the rosary Mark wanted him to have, I could see it in his eyes.  

In early January of 2007, Don and I spent one of those first awful days at Barnes with Mark alone together for a short time.  We both discussed together that we were the only ones who knew what it was like to lose Mark as their son.  We promised one another that we would support each other and look out for one another.  That promise continues to this day.  We have never, not one day, not mentioned Mark in some way or another.

I am very fortunate to have such a wonderful Valentine.  We don't buy each other cards or gifts anymore.  It is pointless.  We have spent the past 35 years building what we have.  Hallmark doesn't print anything that would even come close.

I am reminded, however, every Valentine's Day of Mark's sophomore year when he came home from school ANGRY that he didn't get one Valentine.  Now, Mark's girls.....mostly Mandy, Lisa and Michelle.....probably didn't get one from him either.  He had not yet met Juliet.  I just remember that he was plain old pissed.....and I hugged him and told him I would be his Valentine always.
I knew then that I wasn't what he had in mind.

That January 2007.......so many of Mark's girls came to the hospital.  Lisa, Mandy (whose parents flew her in from Colorado, something I will forever be grateful for), Amanda and so many others.  They brightened not only our day and helped with the pain we were facing, but also made some of the other patients happy.   Don was stopped in the hall that Sunday afternoon.  There must have been 20 of his friends there.  Tabby's dad had come by and everyone joined hands in the visitor's lounge and Dave said a prayer.  I remember so many of the faces of Mark's friends with tears running down their cheeks.  It gave me strength.  As Don walked down the hall, he was stopped by a gentleman.  He said  "I know your son is very sick, I don't know what is wrong with him and I am sorry.  But, Man!  He sure brings in some beautiful girls."  Mark loved it.  Don loves telling that story to this day.  We think they are beautiful.

So, sitting up here in the middle of the night, I am thinking of all these things.  It has been my family, my sons, my husband, friends, and my faith....and perhaps even more strongly the faith that both my sons have....that gets me through tough times.

Sometimes there doesn't have to be a crisis....missing someone is tough times enough.

I then had a sort of revelation.  I think I know what I am made of.

I know that I am not steel  I am just not that strong.  I am not paper because I don't tear into pieces and blow away.  I can't be burned anyway....in due time I do forgive and forget. 

I know I am not made of glass because I don't shatter and break into a million pieces.  I do crumble though.

I spent some time, instead of counting sheep, trying to think then of what I am made of.  Not as strong as steel, not paper because I won't go away, not glass, and I crumble.

I am tin foil.  That's what I am.  I am made of tin foil.  I crumble and can get myself into a tight little ball, but with some gentle care, things can be smoothed out.  I can be used over and over again.

Sounds pretty stupid....but it got me through the night.  I think it is a pretty good description.  I just have been crumbled a lot and may not shine as I once did.  There's a lot of crevices and wrinkles in me, some of which will never go away.  The original luster is gone.  I think it was removed in 2007.  But I am pretty durable and I think I can continue on.  The scars are just there for everyone to see.

I am sure that Markie is doing that eye rolling thing.  He was the one made of steel.....Superman, remember.

I look at this website everyday.  I don't always write here because usually there isn't anything new to say.......still the hurt, still the missing, still the "can't believe this even happened" feelings that never change.

I have found that it is especially hard to change anything else as well.  Shortly after Mark passed away, John suggested that we change his room decor, change everything in there.  Don and I were comfortable with the way the room was.  It had been our bedroom for 20 something years and when Mark got sick, we moved his things into it.  We have a very small house...and wanted to give Mark as much room as possible.  Changing the room wouldn't change things. 

For me, keeping things the way they were when Mark was here became an excuse for not doing anything new.  I know that even certain things that changed, such as the completion of Telegraph Road became an issue for me.  Telegraph was under construction during Mark's last days and it even created more of an issue as his funeral procession went through the construction.  The other day driving home from work, I thought to myself that Mark wouldn't even recognize it.

Slowly, though, I am beginning to let go a little more of these silly notions.  A huge change was made when Don and I decided to paint the living room.  It had always been what my brother called "a parlor".  I took the television out of the living room years and years ago.  Having a small house, I never liked that the first room people walked into when they came into our house always looked so lived in and a mess.  I changed the room to a "parlor" when Mark was barely a year old.  It had a very old style, Victorian type decor.  It took me six months to find curtains that I liked....curtains that I STILL have.  We had not painted the room since way before Mark got sick the first time.

It looks nothing like it did.  Gone are all the fru-fru things.  We put the Victorian like pictures away, moved the glass fringe lamp to the bedroom, and painted it a dark green.  My mother and I found a metal, contemporary picture that replaced all the blue/mauve pictures and wreath that used to hang above the sofa.  Still, no television in there and my 25 year old curtains look just as good as they did before.

Mark would never recognize it.

Two weeks ago we moved the aquarium to the family room in the basement.  We noticed that the wood floor underneath the aquarium in Mark's room was becoming "salted".  What a job that was...and we felt that it was the best time to move it.  We didn't lose any fish...but did lose the serpent starfish.  He had been looking a little bad...and had some bad spots on him.  I knew he wouldn't make it.

It made me feel a little sad when I saw the starfish (what the babies called "Octupus") didn't survive the move.  It was the last original thing in the tank that Paul Choe had placed in June 2007 to amuse Mark.  Another change, but we are still enjoying the beauty of the saltwater tank and still remember the kindness offered to Mark through it.

This may seem so trivial, but actually it is all a huge step for me.  I was going through some things from the desk drawer and found the pictures that I used to have hanging from my work ID.  I had finally taken them off, because through the two years I wore them, the colors began to run.  Mark's pictures were now more green than anything else.  I just couldn't throw them away because they were of Mark.  Don threw them away.  I felt bad.

I now understand why some people hold on to things.  I have a slight understanding of hoarders.  It is an attempt to make time stand still.....to keep things as they were.

This week will be the 18th anniversary of Jimmy Brockmeyer's death.  It seems like it was yesterday, yet Jimmy has been an angel longer than he was here with us on Earth.  On Jim and Lois' family room walls are paintings of clowns that used to hang in Jimmy's bedroom.  I suppose some people who visit them are not aware of the significance of those pictures.  I understand why they have them there.

I did dream about Mark the other day.  It was a disturbing dream and I don't remember what it was about.  I know what he was wearing....one of his striped polo shirts.  It had something to do with him writing a paper at school and me being mad at him about it.  I did not wake up with a good feeling because I couldn't remember what it was really about.  I keep hoping that another dream will come.

Sunday afternoon, Joe up the street took his son and a couple of other kids to Kinswood Drive and cleaned up "Mark's street" for a community service project.  It has been so cold and Don and I haven't been up there that it was such a treat for us to have these young men do it.  It meant a lot to me, knowing that maybe for an hour or two a couple of young boys were doing something in a round about way that honored Mark.

Those are the only two things that in the past month have been new Mark related events.  I hate that they come so far and few between. 

I haven't been back to the cemetery since Christmas.  Don went by and took the cross and the picture Scott made.  Later in February we will put them all back.

I follow Mark's friends activities through Facebook.  I don't have my own Facebook because I think I am a little too old for it....besides, I have this website to collect my thoughts on and I don't think anyone really cares one way or the other what I am up to.  I thought the other day that things continue to change and progress with his friends.  I am sure he is happy with everyone's successes.

It is hard to make changes, but I am trying.  I think that is what Mark meant when he told Don and I we had to keep going.

I will continue to try and do that, but no matter what, I am keeping some things just the way they were.

Today I went "sledding".  I haven't done that since my own boys were little.  I bought a saucer sled, picked up Michael and Daniel, and went hunting for the perfect hill before all of the snow went away.

They had never been on a sled down a big hill.  I hope when they are older, that they will remember it was their granny who took them.

We had a great time.  I never went down...just kept pushing them down and enjoying the screams and laughing as they bounced down the hill.  They followed the main rule well:  if you go down the hill on the sled, you have to bring it back up.

This evening I watched a few movies on the computer.  I learned a few things....or maybe I was just able to hear what I always knew.

Everybody has a story....and so many people, including ourselves, only see one side of the story.  It is important to enjoy yourself and the ones you love, and perhaps the most important, the purpose of our existence is to love one another.

I thought about these things that I heard throughout the evening.  I read recently in some short story in a magazine, a character stating "If I had it to do all over again, I would do it exactly the same way."

I think this character was meaning to say that he didn't have any regrets.  I have just one regret....that we lost Mark.

But, there isn't one thing that I would have changed.  I would have not spared us the hurt of losing him by not ever having him.  So much of my day is spent thinking about him, wishing he was still here.

Daniel's "kid" birthday party was Saturday.  Michael was right in there and dealing well with his brother being the center of attention.  I looked at John from across the room and just started giggling.  He looked over at me holding Joey, and I mouthed the words "This isn't a very fun day."  John grinned, he knew what I was thinking about.

Don and I were so glad that Paul came over today.  We are in desparate need of painting the inside of our house...every room.  The last time the house was painted was well before Mark got sick the first time.  We did paint a bedroom before he came home from Memphis in 2006, but that has been it.  We needed to fix the crown moulding in the living room before we got started on any painting and Paul came over and did that for us today.  It looks perfect now.  I am just tickled.

It was good seeing Paul.  This evening Don and I were talking about how much Mark loved him.  We also recalled that it was this time three years ago when Mark was so very sick in the hospital.  We had been told that our son may not survive the weekend.  Mark seemed to rally around, only to become sick again a week later.  They had told us they were going to need to do a bronchoscope and put him on a ventilator.  I had been cautioned by a very good friend who was a physician that we should be prepared that they may not be able to get him off the ventilator.  The night before the bronchosope, Paul called and said he was coming up to the hospital, and was there anything he could bring Mark.

A blue Slurpee.

Mark eagerly waited for Paul.  I know Mark was afraid of the procedure in the morning and was looking forward to having Paul come by...especially since he was bringing him a Slurpee.

Paul showed up within the hour, with an nearly empty Slurpee cup.

"My dying wish was for a Slurpee and you drank it?!?!?!" Mark said to him.

It made Don and me smile remembering this.

I suppose we are in a little of a rut right now.  We went through the motions of the holidays.  I decided not to place so much emphasis on them anymore.  Keep the presents just for the babies, decorate only the living room.  We put up a good front, but realized that never again would our holidays be what we wanted them to be.  Things will always be different.

I remember two years ago when I would drive up to Mark's grave, specifically when there had been snow.  No extra footprints to Mark's grave anymore.  Few hits on this website. Less phone calls, less emails.  The only thing that is the same is that I (as well as Don) still think about him every single hour of the day.

We were to have Angel Moms last week.  I had planned on going until I left the house on an errand and had a terrible time on the roads.  I called Gwen and was willing to go, but to be honest, I was a little afraid.  I don't like driving at night and I was a little skittish thinking about going back on the roads.  Now, I wish we had our meeting.  It always seems to help to talk things out.

I have come to realize that when I don't write on Mark's site, that it is usually because I am feeling more down than usual.  Sometimes the stresses just catch up to me and I retreat to my books or watching movies.

Then, when I look at his site and see that it has been weeks since I have written anything, I feel as though he is slipping away even further.

Having Paul come by today to help us, really helped.  It reminded me that his friends loved him and that they still think about him.

Unlike that Slurpee cup, I am never empty of Mark thoughts.

It is very early....very early Christmas morning.  Our third without Mark.

Mark's Aunt Debbie (Mike's Debbie) said a couple of years ago that after something is done five years in a row, it becomes tradition.   A couple of things have started down that road since Mark left us....and I hope it is true.

Again this year, we put Mark's tree up on his grave.  Along with Don and myself, my mom, Uncle Mike, Katie and Kyle decorated my father's grave and then Mark's.  We used the same little tree we bought that first Christmas....still with all his friends' and family names written on angel ornaments.  Each year I add something, a new little ornament, and this year was no different.  Michael and Danny helped me put some new ornaments on the tree.  That will be special for me in coming yearsbecause this is the first Christmas that they knew about "Uncle Mark's rock", which is what they call his gravestone.  Katie had a new wreath to go with the one Don bought last year and I added a solar light candycane.  He has the best looking grave around.....boy, I hate being able to say that.

Yesterday we had our visits from Lisa and then later Scott and Nick Pope.  I know in coming years, it may be hard for Lisa to get home, but it doesn't matter.  I will never spend a Christmas Eve and not think about Mark calling me to tell me he was out looking at lights, or going to a middle of the night breakfast with Lisa.  One year he called me at work, very upset that the live nativity scene didn't have anyone there.  It was 2am....just what did he expect.  So many Christmas Eves I spent at work and if I was at home...getting ready for the next day.  I don't have any specific family traditions for Christmas Eve of the boys.....I know really none for John.  The only memory I have is those last couple of years Mark would make sure he was with Lisa for a least a short time.  The first year or two I cried when I saw Lisa on Christmas Eve.....now it is just warm memories.....I look at her and remember how much he loved her.

Don and I spent part of yesterday afternoon with our pseudo-sons Scott and Nick Pope.  They have made it an effort to be sure we are not alone on Christmas Eve.  They have been here every year and I know both Don and I look forward to their visit.  We now make sure that everything we want to do that day is done, that we have time just in case they come by.  It is always a treat for us.  I have to admit that during Scott and Betsey's wedding ceremony, I thought "no more Christmas Eve visits."  We had a wonderful visit with them.  I don't think they realize how important this is to Don and me.  I look forward to more Christmas Eves with them.

We talked to Butch yesterday.  We can go months and not talk to him....busy as we all can get.  Yet, hardly a day goes by that I don't remember what a wonderful guy he is.   He was our rock during Mark's ordeal.  We are going to get together after the New Year.

I have spent some time reading over the Bible, thinking of what the meaning of Christmas is and how it impacts our life.  I know, just like my boss told me the other day, that Mark is OK...that I just really miss him.  No words are more truer.  There is a huge...huge void in our house.  We cut back drastically this year due to finances.  Yet, there is a feeling of renewal.  I bought new decorations this year and hope to continue to do that...to replace those ones I destroyed December 27,2006.  I have learned that it isn't Christmas past that is lost.  They aren't lost.  They are just in a special place.

Mark continues with us this year.  Michael wore his belt yesterday when he dressed as Santa to give our blankets and gifts to my patients at the hospital.  There are dragonfly ornaments, plus a new one for this year, on our tree.  There are new and old decorations on his grave.

And some of the void that happens during the holiday season, has been filled with Mark's friends coming by, Christmas cards from his friends, and messages on this website.  A little joy, and a whole lot of love and friendship.

I know Mark will have a wonderful Christmas.  He is here with us and some how worked things out for his Dad and me that in the next year, we won't be worried about money as much and can concentrate on our lives together. 

In a couple of hours, my Mom will be here and then John, Tabby and the monkeys will be here.  We will have our Christmas Chaos and laugh, smile, hug.....and all will remember that there is someone not here who should be.  There won't be any stockings this year....I just can't do the stocking thing without Mark....at least not yet.

Merry Christmas to all of Mark's friends...you continue to sustain us.

The day after Thanksgiving, we got some good news.  We like to think that the news came because we had an angel pulling for us.

Don got full approval for Social Security disability.

When it became apparent back in July that he physically could not do his job anymore, we knew that we would be "tight" for the next several months.  We continue to try and recover financially from Mark's illness and my long time off of work.  The help from the fundraisers, thoughtful gifts from friends, made our time with Mark less stressful.....but full recovery was still underway.

We had no choice.  Within two weeks, Don filed his application for disability.  It is a very long, tedious process.  We completed the application online, and with all of Don's medical records, information, etc.....it took us SEVEN hours to do.  Then, of course, the repeated processes which included completing more forms, going to the Social Security office, going for physicals.

I tried really hard to keep the finances for our household away from Don.  On more than one occasion, he said he would just go back to work.  That wouldn't do.  He can't work.  We would just have to wait it out.

We discussed it with our nephew, Mick.  We discussed it with people we knew who had applied for Social Security.  We knew, at the very least, it would be about six to eight months before we even knew if he had been accepted.  Most everyone else we spoke with or networked with online, had been in the process for over a year.

Don was approved within 100 days.  We won't have to appeal, hire an attorney.  Our hope was that we had an answer by February.  Instead, Don will start receiving benefits starting then.

It takes a huge relief off our backs...especially mine.  I know Don didn't like that Iwas working extra.  I know we both felt maybe we shouldn't have taken our Mark Birthday trip....we should have kept that money back.  Now we know, that it was meant to be.  Don was to stop work, we were to take the trip, and everything would be finalized before the holidays ever even got started.

I signed up to work extra this week.  I am sort of dreading it....sleeping/working and not accomplishing anything else for the next four nights.  I can do it.  We have been through much harder times before.  It will probably be the last time I put myself through it.

I am almost excited that the weather will may be bad this week.  I don't mind driving in the stuff.  I just take my time.  If it is bad enough, then John won't have to work.  But most of all.....I don't have to worry about my husband out in the cold.

I was going to post last week that we had received this information, but I didn't want anything else but the Mark DeWalle Courageous Heart Award highlighted.

Something tells me that Mark does watch out for Mom and Dad.

I know that John reads this website.  He doesn't post anything except for once a year.  I supposed he uses it to see how Mom is doing.....or to just read about Mark.   He doesn't have to go far to see / think  / hear about Mark for each of his sons certainly has aspects about them that are clearly "Uncle Mark."

I do know, that this will be the third year in a row that he has allowed me to post his words.  Perhaps it is fitting, that the only time he posts anything here, is what he had to say in presenting the Mark DeWalle Courageous Heart Award at the varsity banquet. 

     Two years ago I spoke at length about my brother, Mark and his unwavering love of Mehlville football from the time he was 11 years old.  I spoke how he played almost every position, starting 34 Varsity games in a row, was a captain, an All-Conference selection, and a member of the 1999 State Championship team.  But most of all, I spoke about the lessons Mark learned as a Mehlville Football player that helped him in his fight against cancer. 
      During Marks battle with cancer, he would point out things he had learned in football that was helping him.  Football taught him how to never give up, how to deal with setbacks, how to lean on people who care about you, and how to keep a positive attitude. 
     The lessons we learn in football are not only for game nights.  Those greater lessons are for a lifetime of successes, trials, and failures.  We learn that when we succeed, we should not be satisfied.  We learn that when we fail, to try it again.  We also learn that sometimes things do not work out the way we had planned.  I know my brother did not expect to be diagnosed with cancer, and I did not expect to be standing up here tonight speaking about him in the past tense.   
     Two things come to mind when I think about Mehlville football and my brother.  The first is when he was 13 years old; he promised he would win a State Championship.  The second was when he was a senior in his final game.  There was only a few minutes left, but the game was out of hand and had been lost.  The end was near, but my brother was still laying every play as hard as he could.  He knew the outcome, yet he kept playing.  He had the character to go on and keep playing…. Not quitting…. Even when it was realized that it was not going the way he had expected it to.  I believe the recipient of tonight’s award has the same type of character.    
       For this team, and for tonight’s recipient, there were a lot of things that did not go the way things were expected to go.  Some of us expected to win starting job or rotations, and others not to suffer season ending injuries.  Some of us may not have expected playing as much as we did.  None of us expected for our record to be what it was. Two years ago I did not expect to lose my brother.  
      What was not a surprise was that in those final days, family, friends, teammates and coaches surrounded him.  None of them expected to be there…… 
     One his last wishes was to be wearing his State Championship medal and his FCA Courageous Heart Award when he died.  At the end he held on to his family, faith, and football….. 

     This years recipient of the Mark DeWalle Courageous Heart Award is presented to a player who has show he is willing to fight through adversity, stand up when he gets knocked down, staying the course and not quitting when things did not do the way he expected it to go.  He showed us that he is willing to put the team ahead of himself and I believe that he will use the lessons he learned this season to help guide him throughout his life.  I am proud, on behalf of the coaches and my family, to present this year’s award to Brian Foppe.

Our family congratulates Brian Foppe!!!!!


I had written a long piece about Thanksgiving the other day, only to have accidently deleted the entire thing in the process of writing it.  I thought that I would just go ahead and put it here.....but something more important came up.

Our family is so pleased that last night, Brian Foppe, was awarded the Mark DeWalle Courageous Heart Award.  John didn't tell us who the recipient was until this morning and needless to say, Don and me are just thrilled.

I doubt that Brian even knows, or even cares, who Don and me are.  The fact that he does know that Mark's heart was 95% Panther football is all that matters.  The fact that he knows that whatever challenges he meets in the future, he will has the Panther brotherhood spirit with him always.....as do all Panther football players.

We have been so blessed with the team remembering Mark and the importance that Panther football can have on their lives.  It is easy, I am sure, to coach or even play on a team that wins every game.  Sometimes, our family has learned, even defeats can lend a positive slant on life to those who face great trials.  This year's Panther team is no different than the teams that had an extended season.  They have each other, the sport and more importantly, the spirit that will make them stronger, better men.

We wondered a lot who was going to get this award.  It is the one thing during the holiday season that gives Don and me a sense of renewal.  It is our Christmas with Mark.  The gift he wanted to share with his future Panther brothers.

So much is wrapped up in this award.  All the seasons John played with Mark standing on the track to catch any PATs.  Mark flipping hamburgers when he was 11 for John's Fresh, Soph and varsity teams.  All the older players who considered Mark their little brother.  Mark wearing his Varsity satins the first time as a Sophomore and Don and me telling him "Now, don't expect to play.  You are a back up player.  There are Juniors and Seniors and this is their time."  And his response..."No way, I am going to start and I am going to play both ways."  That he did, for three glorious seasons.

There is the memory of his teammates, and his brother's teammates, coming to his side when he learned he had cancer.  I remember one particular night, back in 2003, that he went out with his fellow teammates.  He came home at three in the morning, just so happy.  "That was one of the best times I have ever had."  They had all come home from college to rally around Mark.  I remember particularly Mike Mahler taking him out.  Teammates for life.  Always there for one another.

I know of only one other time the "State Team" got together after they all graduated and that was when they all came together for Mark's volleyball tournament.  Set up, of course, by Tom Kaesberg, a Panther brother.

Then, at Mark's last hours, he wanted his coach, his brother, his State medal and his FCA medal.  He died with those medals around his neck.  Just hours before, he discussed with Coach Heyde the idea of a Mark DeWalle Courageous Heart Award.  His last plan, his last play, his last run was all Panther football.

Mark was no supreme hero.  He was just a good kid who happened to love Panther football.  He was just a good kid who knew what was important in life.  He was someone who died with more dignity than can even be imagined.   At his side, throughout it all, were his brothers.

Any player could have been awarded Mark's award....I am sure that there were several who were considered.  It just so happens that Brian was the one chosen.

I am sure Brian's parents love him and are just as proud of him as we have always been of our sons.  Perhaps the award doesn't have the strong meanings it has for us, or perhaps it does.  We do hope that they understand that their son will forever have a special place in our hearts.

If you know Brian, have his email or perhaps Facebook....please take time to congratulate him.  We are so pleased.

And more importantly.....something tells me Mark is pleased as well.