I remember where I was on November 22, the day JFK was assassinated. That day changed the way Americans perceived their country and the world. It was a pivotal day in the life of our nation. But that is not the reason I write today.
November 22, 1998 is a day that will always live in my mind, because this is the day that Lena, my first wife, was diagnosed with lung cancer at 42. She had been sick for several weeks, but no one expected cancer. The day began with coughed up blood, an emergency baby sitter, a dash to the Dr. a quick x-ray, admittance into the hospital, and people in and out, probing, asking questions, having us sign papers. Lena seemed to be melting away before my eyes. She was weak and often non-responsive. It was more details than I could take in, but that was the day that I realized “till death do us part” was going to happen a lot sooner than I ever imagined just eight years earlier.
November 22 was the day the responsibility of being a single father to my very young kids seemed like the weight of the Titanic. How would I ever be able to give them what they needed to face the world? I did not believe I was up to the challenge.
November 22 was the day I discovered that a terminal illness changes the nature of your relationship to your spouse. In a real way it was the day I lost her. Lena could no longer be my wife. We were no longer on equal footing. I became the one who was responsible for her, our kids, and our home. We were no longer walking side by side as it were. To be sure we were still married, but what marriage now meant changed that day.
November 22 was the day, when on a quick run home to get some toiletries, I collapsed on the floor of my desperately empty house and sobbed a plea to God, “Don’t you leave me too.”
November 22 was when, after waiting an eternity it was finally our turn to get a CAT scan. It was about nine o’clock in the evening. The technician invited me into the room rather than make me wait alone in the hall. He informed me that he would not be able to tell me anything, but as I watched the screen and only saw one normal looking lung appear, my worst fears were confirmed.
November 22, late into the night, was when I first went on the internet and looked up the statistics on lung cancer. I discovered so much more than I wanted to know. And all the information was bad.
November 22 was the day my life began to change forever, so I had better remember! Now every year when November 22 rolls around again I stop and reflect on the events of that day, seared into my mind. The pain is no longer there, but the horror of that day has left its imprint on me. While much of the six and one half weeks that followed until Lena died are a blur, that day stands out clear.
And while the experience of losing someone you love to a horrible disease introduces a period of devastating upheaval in one’s life, not all the changes are bad. I am a better father now than I was prior to Lena’s death. I am less selfish now than I was then. I am a more attentive husband to Sue. And I am far more aware of my responsibility to family and friends then I was back then.
I probably would have learned those life lessons eventually just by continuing to mature and grow, but the crisis experience of walking through Lena’s diagnosis of cancer, and her subsequent death, forced me to re-orient myself more quickly. What really counts in life? What is really important? Some things matter and some things don’t; learn the difference!
November 22 has left a deeper mark on me than January 8, the day Lena died (see the entry entitled Today I remember for more on that story). Both days hold great significance, but November 22 was the day a time of great change began. I will always remember that day, the changes that were initiated in my life; the incredibly difficult grief work and healing journey that began. And today 10 years later I say this. I never want to experience anything like November 22, 1998 again. But I like who God has caused me to be, through the pain and suffering, better than I liked the person I was before the pain and suffering.
November 22. The day my perception of the world and my life changed forever.
Peace,
Leon
Wow. I didn’t know all this. Life can sure kick you and knock the breath out of you sometimes. Glad you have been able to move on from there to better times!
And you’re a good writer!
Leon, I can only imagine the painful anniversaries and how they had a way of making a better person out of you… your whole world changed. The Lord be with you in the many changes this has brought to you and our family! I well remember the weekend I got word of this, and we had a terrible snowstorm in IN. But do think maybe Dan wa sable to come for the funeral.
Marcia.
Thanks for the compliment on the writing. To be sure my 4th grade teacher would be surprised. Yes Life can be very difficult. I have come to accept suffering as a part of life. I still don’t like it though.
Miriam. Yes Dan was at the funeral. A lot of that is a blur, but I do remember him being there.
Thanks to both of you for stopping by.
Leon
Leon,
May Lena’s soul rest in peace in the presence of eternal God. May the one who sees all guard your heart in Christ Jesus. Thanks for sharing these memories.
Brian
+May her memory be eternal.
Brian.
I am certain she continues her journey into God eternally and restfully.
Leon
Leon,
When I got word, I had no idea Lena would be gone that fast. At that time I think (?????) I got a glimpse of the devastation cancer can bring. I pray that I never have to go through that. If I do, I hope I am able to lean on God and not rebuke Him.
You and I can talk about that further later.
Kirby
Hmmm … I remember hearing about this obviously from far away in Sweden, but it all seemed so unreal, as if, given time, it’ll fix itself. And then I remember the night of January when Ann and I went to again pray for Lena and you and somehow we had a really hard time knowing how to pray. The next day we learned that Lena had died – it was a shock, but not really. Lena was special to our family as you know … and we will never forget her.