June was a demanding month. On Father's Day morning Madi and I blew kisses to heaven and called out, "I love you, daddy! Happy Father's Day." The three of us spent the day with Rich's parents. I swallowed my sorrow and focused on Rich's dad. I try not to think of what he must be feeling. I'm pretty sure I see his eyes come back to life when he looks at Rich's babies. We gave him a gift bag filled with rub off lottery tickets, chocolate, pistachios, and a hand held poker game. When it comes to presents for Rich's parents, I just search my memory for things he used to buy or stories he told me.

Ethan gets so excited to see his Pap. He squeals and lunges and laughs out loud. Madi and Grammy love butterflies and flip-flops. They are fantastic grandparents. They get down on their hands and knees. They play games and pretend and tell jokes and sing and dance and laugh and love them so much. I am so grateful for them.

Our fourth wedding anniversary was on June 23rd. It was a Thursday. I imagined how we would have celebrated it. We would have picked up the kids and come home and made dinner. We would have played games with them and tickled them and kissed them and they would have slept in our bed. We would have kissed goodnight as we stroked their hair. I swear I would do anything to have had that day.

The other day I told Angie that I had my public crying under control. I don't. Kim, Angie, Bill and I went out on the night of my anniversary. We went to the Gypsy Cafe and then to Club Cafe. I did enjoy myself - and I love my friends, but I had an uncontrollable moment of what I should have been doing. I miss him so much.

I keep telling myself that everything will be okay. One day I'll know the reason for this and it will all make sense. I keep telling myself that I'm going to do something good with this pain. I'm going to surprise us both.

Then I do something that's crazy. I abruptly took the kids out of the new daycare. I wanted everything back. I wanted the old house, the old daycare, everything. I wanted the suit he is wearing right now. It's the suit we got married in. I want his socks and underwear - even though I probably have 90% of his clothes. I scrambled to grab what I could. Changing daycares was the only thing I could actually do. I just can't let go.

When I went to gather the kids' stuff from Tendercare, one of Ethan's caregivers touched my shoulder and said, "You have to stop living in the past." She told me she admired my devotion, but that I have to move forward. Normally, those words would have enraged me, but she is a woman who has known too much tragedy. I knew she was speaking from experience. So I just let her hug me while I sobbed uncontrollably.

Kim, Angie and I went to see the Dick Clarks the other night at the Hard Rock. We ran into Shawn - an old friend of the Nixon Clocks. We said hi and when he didn't say anything about Rich, I went into this panic mode. I thought he didn't know. I thought I was going to have to tell him what happened. And I started crying. Meanwhile, of course he knew, he was even at the funeral home. I'm so sorry if my reaction made him feel bad. It's been about a year and a half since Rich left. Why would he bring it up?

That's when I realized - it's been a year and a half. But, to me, it just happened. It still hurts as if it was yesterday. My heart is still off beat and a sharp pain still radiates through me. I still spend most of the day choking on my tears. Every morning I'm still surprised that this isn't just a nightmare. Everyday I still look at my baby boy and ache that his father never laid eyes on him. Everyday my three year daughter asks me when daddy is going to come down. A year and a half means nothing to me.

I do try to appreciate the blessings. I have beautiful children. I have a beautiful love that not even death can take away from me. Rich and I got to say goodbye.

An old friend of mine stayed with us a couple days last week. It was with her I recounted all the blessings Rich and I had. At the same time I expressed my blame and hatred for Rich's PCP, Dr. Morris. It was then I realized I might have to make a decision. Do I continue to loathe and condemn him for not finding the cancer sooner? The signs were there and he missed them. I'm so infuriated we didn't have a chance to fight. He could have started chemo and radiation much earlier.

On the other hand, it would have been more time he spent sick and scared. We probably wouldn't have gotten pregnant with Ethan. So, do I continue wishing for retribution? Or, do I thank God, who I've hated for so many months, that the people who love him didn't have to watch that cancer ravage his brain and invade his spinal cord?

Madison likes to listen to "daddy's songs". He would love that she knows all the words and sings them as loud as she can. When Heavy Year comes on I just block it out and don't listen to it so that I don't get upset in front of them. But, Madi asks, "Mommy, are you trying not to cry?"