It's been a rough couple of days. I'm feeling angry and alone and afraid. I'm not angry at Rich. He would never have done anything to hurt us. I'm not angry at God. I've decided to believe God doesn't have any control over cancer. Maybe it's cancer I'm angry at. Yes, it's cancer I'm angry at. It invaded our lives and shattered what we built together. Someone sent me an anonymous e-mail telling me not to open my wounds with anger. This was in response to the letter to the PCP entry. (Which, BTW, I told my therapist I was going to write, but not send, and she thought it was a good idea.) My wounds have yet to begin to heal. I would do anything not to feel this way. I'm trying to work through these feelings so that one day I can be whole again. I want to talk to my children about Rich and not fall apart. I want to maintain an atmosphere of joy and happiness in our home. I want to laugh and play and be carefree with them. I want to look at his pictures, listen to his music and read his journals and giggle and beam. I know that's what he wants. He was mine and I knew him best. I need more time for this.
I feel alone because - even though this may not be true - I feel no one in the world has any idea of how damaged I feel. Someone actually said to my sister, Kathy, "She is young and she has her whole life ahead of her". My whole life stopped. For the past 10 years there is only one person I wanted to share my life with. What we had ahead of us no longer exists. Cancer took him from me and his children. I don't want to hurt. I don't want to dwell. I don't want to cry everyday. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I don't want to forget him. Mostly, I don't want to have to explain to my children where their young father is. I need more time for this.

I'm afraid of going through childbirth without Rich. I feel so guilty that I get to be there and he doesn't. I asked my OB/GYN today if we can schedule an induction. There is not going to be any, "Honey, I think it's time". That was stolen from us. The moment of delivery will be bittersweet. I want my son. I can't wait to see him and hold him. But, on that day, the pain of missing Rich will be throbbing - even with the epidural. I'm afraid of being a single mother. But, I remind myself everyday that Rich trusted me to be the mother of his children. I refuse to let him down. I was his and he knew me best.

On the day Rich received his one and only round of chemotherapy, I bought a bookmark and a magnet at the gift shop. On them is a poem about cancer by an unknown author. I decided to take it out today and try to believe it. I gave the bookmark to Becky P. because she needs to believe it, too.

What Cancer Cannot Do
Cancer is so limited...
It cannot cripple Love
It cannot shatter Hope
It cannot corrode Faith
It cannot destroy Peace
It cannot kill Friendship
It cannot suppress Memories
It cannot silence Courage
It cannot invade the Soul
It cannot steal eternal Life
It cannot conquer the Spirit.