Last Monday

A year ago was Brian's last Monday.  He slept almost all day and night by then, but when he was awake he was still able to speak and respond.  I spent most of the day sitting in his room alone.  It was a difficult time.  I knew that things had gotten much worse, but I had no way to know what that meant or to prepare myself for what was to come.

Around 7:30 that evening I turned on my tablet and opened Facebook.  My feed was filled with stories about gun control and the too familiar arguments that go with the subject.  I assumed that there had Ben another shooting and went to ask the nurses about what had happened.  Much to my horror, they told me that there had been a bombing at the Boston Marathon.

I immediately broke down in tears.  My dear friend Linda was running the marathon that day.  Linda and I met the summer after our senior year in high school.  She and I had been assigned to the same dorm room at Penn.  She lived only about a half hour away, so we were able to meet and immediately become fast friends.  We roomed together for all four years in Philadelphia. By the time we graduated she was family - a second sister.

Linda and I saw each other through all our ups and downs in life.  She was there to share my happiness at my first marriage, there when my first husband began abusing drugs, there when that marriage spun out of control, there through my divorce. And of course she was there sharing my true joy as I fell in love with Brian, at our wedding, and in our lives.  She often commented on how wonderful Brian was and how beautiful and rare our marriage was.  When I called her in shock and tears to tell her that Brian was diagnosed with terminal cancer she immediately purchased a plane ticket, and had real reservations when I told her to wait and come later.

So when I heard of the bombing in Boston, a reasonable reaction of concern became an extreme reaction of terror.  The thought of losing another person I loved was too much to bear.

I immediately called Linda's cell which wasn't working.  I left messages on her home phone for her husband.  I cursed myself for not knowing her husband's cell number or email address.  I called her work but hot the after hours tape, and then I collapsed on the floor in hysterics.

When I was able to pull myself together, I snuck back into Brian's room.  He woke, and I went to his side to tell him about the bombing and that I would be out in the great room watching the news.  He nodded with concern in his eyes.

I watched the news in horror and fear.  Finally Erik, Linda's husband, called and told me that Linda and her sister were OK.  I was flooded with relief,but also knew that being physically OK after a bombing did not mean that you were emotionally OK.  I finally was able to find in thewhich hotel she was staying, and called there.  Her sister answered and told me about what had happened , and how they eventually reunited.  Linda was talking on her cell and would call me back.  It wasn't until she did and we were able to cry together and tell each othet "///I love you" that I was able to calm myself.

I returned to our room, expecting to find Brian asleep.  He stirred when I entered.  I went to his bed, and with concern in his eyes he whispered, "Linda?". I told him that we had spoken and that Linda and her sister were unharmed.  His eyes smiled, he sighed, nodded, and fell back asleep.

By that time Brian had very few words left, and he saved them for what was important.  My dear friend Linda was important to him.  Though his words were few, his eyes showed his initial concern and his later relief.

That was my Brian.  He knew what was important in life, and nothing was more important than the people you love.

This year the Boston Marathon is on the 21st - one day after the first anniversary of Brian's death.  Linda will be there again - running for herself, for those that were killed and injured, and for Brian. She plans to wear her Team Igo On T-shirt with its message of strength on the front and Brian's picture on the back.  That, and so many things I have just written about, brings me to tears.

It is close to 3am.  I should be sleeping - it will be a long day.  Instead I lay here crying, thinking of people I love, strength, loss, and memories that tear me open and leave me raw.

Have the run of a lifetime, Linda.  Run for strength, hope, and love.  Run for yourself, for all the people, touched by last year's terrorism, and for my Brian - who throughout his life, and in his dying days, knew what was most important in life.