Originally, yesterday’s post was intended for the small audience of my online grief group. But as I finished the piece I realized it belonged here as well.

The people in my group have all lost spouses–and most lost their spouses long before they should have. Many of us had Jane’s dream, which I wrote about yesterday: “I always saw us growing old together. I saw us retired, traveling, reading, writing, gardening. I saw the time together. I saw our slow decline to death, together–or not very far apart.”

And we were denied that dream.

I am not writing this to gain your hugs or your concern. I know I have those things. I am trying to outline for you an undiscovered country that too many of you are journeying toward. I am trying to get you to understand why I am doing what I am doing here–that I am trying to create a world in which far fewer people have the experience I am going through than do now.

Last month I met the husband of a woman who died of NET just a week after Jane. I saw in his face the same pain and self-doubt I see too often when I look in the mirror. Intellectually, I know Jane and I did everything we could to prevent her death. I know that, intellectually, he knows the same thing about the struggle he and his wife went through. I know that he and his wife shared the same dream Jane and I had.

But I also know that when the emotions are involved, logic does not count. When pain is involved, logic does not count.

I am watching a former student go through this with her mother. I know, from what she says, that her father is going through the same things I did–and I know he will experience the same emotions and doubts after his wife’s death.

Cancer kills–and kills in a particularly ugly way. It takes every ounce of dignity and annihilates it in a way that reduces both you and those close to you to a level so like infancy that it is hard to fathom or describe even after you have experienced it. It is like looking into the face of ultimate evil–being so close that you can smell the odor on its breath, hear the grinding of its teeth. There is nothing beautiful in it.

I want you to understand this, not so you will be filled with pity or sympathy for me or for any individual–we all do what we can when we see someone in that kind of immediate pain. Rather, I show you these things so that you will be moved to work to end this disease so this heartbreak it brings can also be ended for others who have not yet experienced it. I want everyone to live our dream. I want no one to experience, beyond these words, our nightmare.