I could spend the next 28 days writng about Jane’s last days: how today was about deciding when to schedule the heart surgery, how tomorrow was about saying good-byes–just in case–how Monday was about getting to the hospital and Tuesday about the heart catheterization and the valve replacement surgery.

And some days I may do that still. But not today.

I slept most of today. Part of that was simple avoidance. But most of it was sheer exhaustion. We put out the 10,000+ words in the press kit and tried to market them to newspapers all across America this week. I designed and published a brochure based on the “Is it IBS?” page on this site. I distributed posters for ACS to places all over Swansea, Somerset, and Fall River. I tried to turn Facebook into a massive zebra herd for Worldwide NET Cancer Awareness Day. I went in for my semi-annual blood work and check up, got my flu shot. Visited another doctor for one type of screening and set up an appointment for another. (No worries, folks: just time to kick the tires and check the fluid levels on this machine as it approaches 60.) And I talked to every doctor who would listen to me about the importance of knowing the symptoms of NET. I’m exhausted just typing it all out.

Next week will be just as busy: two ACS meetings, a letter to finish up to ACS about NET, a couple dozen thank you notes to write, and a pile of mail to get through.

But today I need a break from all of that. I need a break from cancer and from grief. I need to think. And most of all I need to remember the good times before NET stole both my wife’s life–and mine.

Make no mistake, losing a spouse is like nothing else you can experience.

It is the reason that I will go back to work on killing this disease tomorrow and the next day and the next day… Life is a precious thing. And I want all of you to have more days with those who are precious to you. Because when you lose the other half of your soul your life, too, will stop for a time–as though you, too, had died.

Today, I need to recharge the batteries. Today I need to remember watching her slide down the aisle of the church like a pearl though honey on our wedding day, our first climb up the side of Mt. Lafayette–and our race to the bottom to find a toilet. I need to remember our decision not to get a Christmas tree the year we moved into this house because it was too close to Christmas–and her buying a tiny pine tree in a pot to surprise me with so we would have a tree after all.

I need to call back to me all the joy of our life together so that tomorrow I can get back to the work that needs still to be done.

And so that I can again find myself among the truly living.