Here we are – Hilton Head, 2018.

Before.

I use two ‘befores’ now. 

“Before he got sick” is any time prior to June 14, 2019 – the day we learned Mike had cancer.

The other, of course, is the day he died, and means the period between June 14, 2019, and November 2, 2022. 

He’s wearing a jacket, the ever-present orange hat, and his little half-smile. He didn’t love the beach [first]before, but came to love it [second] before.

He was willing – for me, the beach lover – to see the beach with new eyes. I’m grateful for beach memories with him.

I realize now, eight months after his death, that Mike was mostly angry about having cancer. Sad, too. And I couldn’t help much with that.

He spent a great deal of time praying, meditating, studying the lives of the Christian mystics. I can’t imagine how emotional he would have been if Merton hadn’t helped him get through his days, or Julian hadn’t assured him that all would be well.

But oh, how I wish he could have been more at peace with the process. The gift of cancer is time … to appreciate, to thank someone, to love out loud.

Happy day-before-your-birthday, America!

I’ve written about last year’s trip to the recycling center on the 4th of July. I woke up today thinking about what a good time we had.

He was the ‘old’ Mike. Funny. Kind. Carefree. Mike never was a go-with-the-flow kinda guy, but that day, even stuck in traffic, he was.

The before-cancer Mike didn’t monitor his vital signs. Didn’t plan his life around treatments and tests and procedures. 

He didn’t work so hard to live.

That day we followed the advice he often gave his patients: enjoy your day.

It was like he wasn’t even sick.