We just finished the trek to Texas. Tilly, Xavier, and I are going to set up camp here for a while with my parents who are also moving, from Baton Rouge, LA. I'm going to try to take some pictures soon of the kids and the new home and post them. I promise to be better about updates. :)
Aimee came here three times. The first time, I had just torn my ACL in my knee while I was at UD, so I wasn't able to show her around the city. She was disappointed-- Aimee always felt that there were things that needed to be done, and there should never be any excuses to avoid them. We are all called to sacrifice. She was tough. :)
The second time, she was sick with the cold-- but I had set up my apartment for the "proposal." Hundreds of flowers on the porch, baked the bread for our sandwiches even. She arrived, beautiful and as cute as ever, and it was just wonderful! She didn't hesitate for a second when I asked, didn't even look at the ring-- she just smiled at me and said "yes."
The third time, we came for Dr. Louise's 90th birthday. It was a great time, especially since it was the first time we had to hustle to catch the plane, organize the kids, etc. We did such a great job. I really miss the way we worked together. We were great, and we were capable of great things together.
I still miss her so much.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Friday, May 08, 2009
Along the Row
One of Aimee's friends contacted me today about the reading of a poem Aimee had recorded while she worked at the archives department at Tufts. It's called "Along the Row" by John Holmes:
http://dca.lib.tufts.edu/features/holmes/world/row/row.html
Along the Row
The bell rang from the Chapel while we walked.
Oh, where are autumn days and nights like these!
I showed my friend the tower above the hill,
And Capen Path, Ballou between the trees.
A gate in the fence showed faintly in the dusk.
In East and West the lights began to shine.
A group of men passed by and called "Hullo-"
My heart sang, and I thought, "My college- mine!"
The Row in autumn twilight! Tall dark trees
Leaned kindly over us. We talked of games,
But I remembered old familiar friends,
And I was silent, thinking of old names.
The men who walked the Row before my time
Were by my side, good ghosts my heart awoke-
While I must show my friend the tennis court,
The newest hall for men, the gym. He spoke:
"How you must love this place!" My heart stood still
And ached to think how much I love this Hill.
http://dca.lib.tufts.edu/features/holmes/world/row/row.html
Along the Row
The bell rang from the Chapel while we walked.
Oh, where are autumn days and nights like these!
I showed my friend the tower above the hill,
And Capen Path, Ballou between the trees.
A gate in the fence showed faintly in the dusk.
In East and West the lights began to shine.
A group of men passed by and called "Hullo-"
My heart sang, and I thought, "My college- mine!"
The Row in autumn twilight! Tall dark trees
Leaned kindly over us. We talked of games,
But I remembered old familiar friends,
And I was silent, thinking of old names.
The men who walked the Row before my time
Were by my side, good ghosts my heart awoke-
While I must show my friend the tennis court,
The newest hall for men, the gym. He spoke:
"How you must love this place!" My heart stood still
And ached to think how much I love this Hill.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
St. Paddy's 2009
The Leprechaun must have had a hole in his pot-- pennies were spilt all over the front walkway this morning. Good thing Xavier and Tilly were there to pick them up.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Bonus Pictures
We had given my mother our old digital camera last year but never gave her the cables or instructions to get it up and running. So while I was helping her with it, I discovered some photos from Thanksgiving 2007 still on the camera. I thought I'd post those.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Trip to Louisiana
We found a great deal on tickets to Baton Rouge, so we flew down to visit my mom. The kids and I had a fantastic time: we got to see LSU's Mike the Tiger, we went to the zoo, we went crawfishin' in the local ditches, we played at the park, we collected gumballs in the front yard, and much, much more .... (see if you can spot the crawfish in the 4th pic)
Aimee always wanted us to come back to visit, but we never had the time, etc. She was here once-- right after I proposed to her in Texas in 2002. We drove down here and had a great time. I can remember us going to Alligator Bayou. We wanted to take a canoe out on the swamps, and I asked if there were any gators out there. The lady at the rental booth said "Yeah!" and Aimee said "Yeah!" and I, of course, said "No!" But we went anyway. She was so excited at the chance of fending alligators off with our oars, but fortunately we didn't see any. Needless to say, Aimee was disappointed. But we still had a great time.
Aimee always wanted us to come back to visit, but we never had the time, etc. She was here once-- right after I proposed to her in Texas in 2002. We drove down here and had a great time. I can remember us going to Alligator Bayou. We wanted to take a canoe out on the swamps, and I asked if there were any gators out there. The lady at the rental booth said "Yeah!" and Aimee said "Yeah!" and I, of course, said "No!" But we went anyway. She was so excited at the chance of fending alligators off with our oars, but fortunately we didn't see any. Needless to say, Aimee was disappointed. But we still had a great time.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Aimee
I know it’s been over 2 weeks now, but to me it seems like no time has passed. Time seems to have stopped.
With advanced cancer, there is usually a certainty of death, but you are also given the chance to prepare for it, in whatever way you can. But we didn’t get that option. Everything came so suddenly that I’m still reeling from it. Aimee and I always figured that there would be some point of no return, some news of cancer spreading to other organs, and then the doctors would give her a time frame. Then we could grieve together, discuss things, say goodbye.
But we had just received good news, the first good news we had gotten in all of her treatments. 10 percent reduction! It seemed something was finally working, and there seemed to be real hope. And then …
The way the doctor explained it, it was difficult to understand. While the cancer hadn’t spread to other organs, it had thoroughly ruined her lymphatic system. According to Dr. Atkins, she had something called a chylous effusion which was causing the build-up in her belly. When they removed that fluid from her, they discovered that it contained what he called “a week’s worth of calories.” Apparently, Aimee’s tumors had shrunk, but they had also hardened, cutting off the supply of nutrients to the rest of her body and dumping them in the abdomen. Ultimately, where the tumors were and how they had affected her made them and the damage they were causing inoperable. And giving her I.V. nutrients wouldn’t help either, because they would end up in the same place.
Still, the doctor had no definite time frame. A couple of weeks, days …. It seemed as soon as he said this, though, Aimee was on her way out. And at this point, she wasn’t really conscious. But I stayed up with her all night, and it wasn’t until early the next morning that the nurse said she could go at any moment. I had no idea it was going to be so soon, so quick, so sudden. Like a thief in the night. I held her in my arms until the last moment.
The amount of people who came to the wake and the funeral was amazing. There was a traffic jam at the wake, and the police had to come to direct traffic outside the funeral home. And I know there were even more who wanted to be there but were unable to. The outpouring of love and support was unbelievable. Thank you, each and every one, who prayed for Aimee, supported Aimee, loved Aimee.
****** ********* ****** ******* ******* ******* ********* ********* ********
Aimee was the embodiment of the transcendentals: truth, beauty, and goodness. These aren't just the words of this poor philosophy student, who clumsily sticks to familiar jargon. Each one of the qualities was absolutely essential to the way that Aimee was. And she had the ability to draw people to her and bring out these qualities in them.
It was Aimee's mind that I fell in love with first. She had a real wisdom and insight, to see not only the whole and what was important, but the particulars that formed the whole. Not just her eye for details-- but her eye for which details mattered. I always told her she had such a sound mind. I know that sounds wrong, but I meant it in a stronger sense: the ability to set aside emotions and see what is truly good and act in accordance with it out of love for it. She was passionate, but her reasoning was never overtaken by or based upon her emotions. And her wisdom was most evident in her taste: she knew a good poem, a good novel, a good movie on a quick read. When we were engaged and I was in Texas, we'd spend hours reading poetry over the phone together, and like a sponge, I would absorb everything she'd have to say about Heaney, Frost, Yeats and all the others I could throw at her. She knew it, delighted in it, and was so happy to share what she could see.
Aimee always said she was never meant for a body-- usually after she did something clumsy. :) Although she had been graced with such a beautiful one. I loved to just look at her. And when she smiled, she had such a glowing presence that would cause anyone to fall in love with her. I loved her hair, and she jokingly would ask me if I would still love her if she lost it. And when she did finally lose her hair, she in fact was more beautiful. Perhaps because it was clearer that her beauty was rooted in something much more permanent.
Aimee was absolutely selfless. She got upset-- really upset-- when she had complained during Xavier's birth, which took more than 48 hours. Which she took no pain medication for, no epidurals-- nothing. She was afraid that any drugs would in some way harm the baby. And Xavier was born in what is known as the posterior position, which causes an intense amount of back pain throughout. But she was upset because she saw her suffering as her offering to God-- and she felt she failed in that offering (!) because she complained during his birth. Incidentally, Xavier's birth lasted from Easter Sunday night until early Tuesday Morning, while her last labor, the labor of dying, went from Sunday evening to early Wednesday morning. She did not complain about pain during her last days.
And she was the bravest person I ever knew. Never showed her fear and always faced her fears. All the medical procedures, all the needles and surgeries, she didn't blink once. She was tougher than nails. It truly was something you had to witness, the calm she showed in the face of everything that was frightening.
And she was the most grateful person I've ever known. I really don't think an hour went by in her life where she didn't say thank you-- and she always meant it. I used to tease her and call her the "thank you" bully. :)
And she was a great mother. It has been great to go back over the blog from the beginning until now. It reminds me of how much Aimee loved our kids, how much joy she took in playing with them, in mothering them, in simply being with them.
Virtue, it seems to me, is something that must be tested and will be tested. It must be put through a trial, must prove itself. Those who are truly wise, beautiful, good, brave, and loving will have those virtues tested, refined, and strengthened. That's how I try to make sense of her cancer and the suffering she endured. This battle was, in the classical sense, her aristeia. And she truly shined throughout.
With advanced cancer, there is usually a certainty of death, but you are also given the chance to prepare for it, in whatever way you can. But we didn’t get that option. Everything came so suddenly that I’m still reeling from it. Aimee and I always figured that there would be some point of no return, some news of cancer spreading to other organs, and then the doctors would give her a time frame. Then we could grieve together, discuss things, say goodbye.
But we had just received good news, the first good news we had gotten in all of her treatments. 10 percent reduction! It seemed something was finally working, and there seemed to be real hope. And then …
The way the doctor explained it, it was difficult to understand. While the cancer hadn’t spread to other organs, it had thoroughly ruined her lymphatic system. According to Dr. Atkins, she had something called a chylous effusion which was causing the build-up in her belly. When they removed that fluid from her, they discovered that it contained what he called “a week’s worth of calories.” Apparently, Aimee’s tumors had shrunk, but they had also hardened, cutting off the supply of nutrients to the rest of her body and dumping them in the abdomen. Ultimately, where the tumors were and how they had affected her made them and the damage they were causing inoperable. And giving her I.V. nutrients wouldn’t help either, because they would end up in the same place.
Still, the doctor had no definite time frame. A couple of weeks, days …. It seemed as soon as he said this, though, Aimee was on her way out. And at this point, she wasn’t really conscious. But I stayed up with her all night, and it wasn’t until early the next morning that the nurse said she could go at any moment. I had no idea it was going to be so soon, so quick, so sudden. Like a thief in the night. I held her in my arms until the last moment.
The amount of people who came to the wake and the funeral was amazing. There was a traffic jam at the wake, and the police had to come to direct traffic outside the funeral home. And I know there were even more who wanted to be there but were unable to. The outpouring of love and support was unbelievable. Thank you, each and every one, who prayed for Aimee, supported Aimee, loved Aimee.
****** ********* ****** ******* ******* ******* ********* ********* ********
Aimee was the embodiment of the transcendentals: truth, beauty, and goodness. These aren't just the words of this poor philosophy student, who clumsily sticks to familiar jargon. Each one of the qualities was absolutely essential to the way that Aimee was. And she had the ability to draw people to her and bring out these qualities in them.
It was Aimee's mind that I fell in love with first. She had a real wisdom and insight, to see not only the whole and what was important, but the particulars that formed the whole. Not just her eye for details-- but her eye for which details mattered. I always told her she had such a sound mind. I know that sounds wrong, but I meant it in a stronger sense: the ability to set aside emotions and see what is truly good and act in accordance with it out of love for it. She was passionate, but her reasoning was never overtaken by or based upon her emotions. And her wisdom was most evident in her taste: she knew a good poem, a good novel, a good movie on a quick read. When we were engaged and I was in Texas, we'd spend hours reading poetry over the phone together, and like a sponge, I would absorb everything she'd have to say about Heaney, Frost, Yeats and all the others I could throw at her. She knew it, delighted in it, and was so happy to share what she could see.
Aimee always said she was never meant for a body-- usually after she did something clumsy. :) Although she had been graced with such a beautiful one. I loved to just look at her. And when she smiled, she had such a glowing presence that would cause anyone to fall in love with her. I loved her hair, and she jokingly would ask me if I would still love her if she lost it. And when she did finally lose her hair, she in fact was more beautiful. Perhaps because it was clearer that her beauty was rooted in something much more permanent.
Aimee was absolutely selfless. She got upset-- really upset-- when she had complained during Xavier's birth, which took more than 48 hours. Which she took no pain medication for, no epidurals-- nothing. She was afraid that any drugs would in some way harm the baby. And Xavier was born in what is known as the posterior position, which causes an intense amount of back pain throughout. But she was upset because she saw her suffering as her offering to God-- and she felt she failed in that offering (!) because she complained during his birth. Incidentally, Xavier's birth lasted from Easter Sunday night until early Tuesday Morning, while her last labor, the labor of dying, went from Sunday evening to early Wednesday morning. She did not complain about pain during her last days.
And she was the bravest person I ever knew. Never showed her fear and always faced her fears. All the medical procedures, all the needles and surgeries, she didn't blink once. She was tougher than nails. It truly was something you had to witness, the calm she showed in the face of everything that was frightening.
And she was the most grateful person I've ever known. I really don't think an hour went by in her life where she didn't say thank you-- and she always meant it. I used to tease her and call her the "thank you" bully. :)
And she was a great mother. It has been great to go back over the blog from the beginning until now. It reminds me of how much Aimee loved our kids, how much joy she took in playing with them, in mothering them, in simply being with them.
Virtue, it seems to me, is something that must be tested and will be tested. It must be put through a trial, must prove itself. Those who are truly wise, beautiful, good, brave, and loving will have those virtues tested, refined, and strengthened. That's how I try to make sense of her cancer and the suffering she endured. This battle was, in the classical sense, her aristeia. And she truly shined throughout.
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