In the car on the way to a meeting this morning, a deep wave of sadness came over me, and a few tears. I don't cry much anymore. I don't know why today. And then I realized--it has been 1,000 days since Tom received his diagnosis. Why is 1,000 days so profound? His doctor, when asked, said that the average life expectancy with his diagnosis and pathology was three years, about 1,000 days. In those early days after his diagnosis, while still coming to terms what it all meant, and while we were on the roller coaster of emotions that came with the next round of tests and treatment decisions, I thought to myself, I will have a 1,000 more days with him. When we had to wait 10 days for new information, I would think "that's 1% of the time we have left together." It was like having a count down clock in my head. And I didn't want to rush time one minute. The only thing I was hoping to rush was getting Tom better and putting the nightmare of appendix cancer behind us, going back to normal. I just wanted normal. I've wanted it for 1,000 days. I still want it. Now should be the time I would say goodbye if what the doctor told us was true. Instead I have spent the last twenty-six months surviving the most traumatic experience of my life, learning to live without my beloved. All that is left is love, and memories.
I was given copies of great illustrations bymariondrew which are spot on. This truly shows how it feels.