"Because of Annie"
You were my Bright and Shining Star. I will love and miss you until my memory fades. Thank you for sharing your life with me. "Rock On, My Angel" Love you
sweetie, Bobby xo
  • 60 years old
  • Born on December 12, 1949 in Chelmsford, Essex County, United Kingdom.
  • Passed away on November 2, 2010 in Wichita, Kansas, United States.

           A TRUE "LOVE STORY"

              NEVER Ends

 There's No Greater Love, Than Sharing The Dying Process With The Dying, Nothing Harder

               Henri Nouwen

                                             "Because of Annie" 

 If you love someone today, try to love them more tomorrow. "Life Happens."                              

                                        End of Life Care--"The love"

   You Know you've Loved, And Done Enough, When All You Had Left To Fight

With, Was Your Love For Each Other.                                                 

This bed was created out of love for my beautiful wife Annie. It is and forever will be the bed where she, "made her last stand" in her battle with a deadly blood cancer, Multiple Myeloma. Annie had a 3 to 4 week prognosis. No one knew of her tenacious will to fight in an effort to live, just one more day. She defied the odds so many times in the first two months, they started calling her their little miracle girl in the hospital and at the cancer center. During the 3rd week of Annie's cancer, she broke both femurs, her right hip, and her spine collapsed. On top of that she had 4 broken ribs. I guess what I'm saying is, if you are fighting the battle, never give up on hope, and love your loved one like there is no tomorrow. I gave Annie 24/7 quality care, and my daughter Melissa was my wing man. We were a formidable caregiver team, with the attitude, you have to live, laugh, and love, to beat back a nasty cancer. Annie survived 30 months, and although it was very traumatic times, we're so glad we fought just as hard for her as, she fought to live. Powerful combination. Of course, Annie had incredible doctor's, specialist's, oncologist's,  medical personnel and her newly found Spiritual Awakening on her side too. 


With grief, it doesn't matter how hard you worked, how loving you were, in fact it's not relevant. Grief tells you, you should have tried harder, done better, and it's not until later on in your grief that you know for sure, "you gave it all you had, and did enough to pull off that final miracle if, the story had not been written. Peace

The Empty Bed

The Empty Bed

Added 9/10/18: "Death Is So Final:"  On a daily basis Annie's death is always flowing in and out of my consciousness and unconsciousness. It's like a grinding pain that becomes suffocating at times.  My mind is often locked on the assumption that this is just a dream and I will wake up soon. When I lay my head on the pillow each evening, I close my eyes and pray that I won't have nightmares or even worse, night terrors. Still, they come and they go, and I awake to realize that this is my new reality and not a dream at all. "Death is so final."  There's no escaping the pain or torment it visits on me every day. Most, say I'm just grieving, but I know the truth, it's much more than that. It's a battle between life and death, the sane and the insane world I now find myself in. When I think of my sweet Annie, her journey through cancer was always about dying, she was not going to survive. Despite everything I feel, I have got to somehow turn around all the negative emotions, and not let the cancer defeat me too. My journey cannot be defined by hers.  This was her story. "Death Is So Final."  "Because of Annie"

If you're struggling in grief, please, document it.When I was grieving, as time went by I felt like I was making no forward progress. Then I'd look back at my notes from a few months earlier and clearly see that I was making some progress.Maybe not much, but to a griever some is better than none.The idea is to move forward at your own pace and when doing so having a method to track how you were feeling a few months earlier is very important. On the flip side, you may find out that you're actually falling further into the dark hole of grief, and you need to know that too.It would have been awfully rich of me to think that the worst of my grief came at the point of Annie's death. It wasn't like that.Every day for quite some time, it just kept getting worse. My writings always allowed me to know where I was, with my grief.

What I just said is how it was.What I didn't say is that I had no earthly idea why I was doing what I was doing. I think I was simply fighting for survival and unknowingly opened up Pandora's Box on healing. Looking back, writing was the best of many healing tools I developed to help me get well. "I was really sick."

Added: Thoughts--7/7/18  Annie, I don't know why I lost you. Its been almost 8 years now and I still feel your presence all around me. We're still so connected---Bless your heart, you fought such an epic battle with that wretched cancer. You know, I loved you before I met you, but not as much as I loved you during your darkest days. You were so precious, and courageous. Your radiant smile, even when navigating troubled waters, captivated and captured those that were fortunate enough to meet you. I loved you so much, but couldn't save you. :(


Article--Added 21 May 2018:

After Annie died, if I were to guess, I’d say grief was entrenched in me for, four long years. It wasn’t ever easy, the ups and downs were continuous, and at times I felt like I was just going around in circles chasing my grief…and perhaps I was.

After I made it through those years and started pulling myself out of the trenches, life didn’t just magically change.
It Became a Process
Life became a complex of mazes–so many ways in, but only one way out. And that’s the process some of us must go through to get well. At first the maze held its secret, with the mystery only being revealed to me as I aimlessly wander through my solitude in the maze, searching for the escape route, trying to exchange my old reality for, the new.
I was on a mission until, the mission became me. I became one with my grief. I had a strong sense I was healing, while watching and waiting for a door to swing open, offering me an exit from all the anxiety and chaos I’d been living. But, it was not over yet.
Nurturing The Spirit Through Memories
After Annie died, life became so damn complicated. I wasn’t really sure of anything. Yet, somehow I knew there had to be more to life than, just death. To me, it just didn’t make any sense. Annie simply lived, to die?
During her illness Annie had a “Spiritual Awakening,” however, for the previous 37 years we were married she believed in the Native American Spirit World. Maybe that’s why folks always said, “Annie is so full of spirit.”
The more my mind wandered, the more I realized that, although Annie was dead, her spirit was shining “Brightly.” Instinctively, I knew where the secret to my well being lies.
In My Memories
It seemed reasonable that, I needed to communicate with her, in spirit. So I devised a plan where, I would take a couple hours out of each and every day, turn off all the devices and distractions, and spend time with Annie. I called it “Annie’s Time.”
As odd as it may seem, spending time with Annie was priceless. Yes, there were tears of joy, sorrow–I talked about the good, the bad, but most of all, I talked about our deep love for each other that was cultivated during the darkest hours and days of our lives. It’s easy to love another, but to find the true meaning of love, I believe you have to touch and be touched, in spirit. It’s like a real deepness, a togetherness, the feeling of being one entity–perhaps, “Soul Mates.”
It may sound strange, talking to a picture while listening to some of our old favorite music, but, the conversation and music release little nuggets of information that lead to some beautiful memories. And that’s where we need to go. We’re trying to reconcile the bad, by incorporating it with the good, our togetherness–in spirit. We need to become one.
Becoming one is important for many reasons. In essence, for the rest of your life you will be carrying their love with you, where ever you go. It’s not a bad thing, not selfish, it’s simply a part of who you’ve become.

As you enter the new world in one spirit, there will always be room for another. The past, and all the nurtured memories will be safely stored with you to share as you please...Spirit love is kind, it will not get in your way.

The transition towards your new chapter in life will now be much easier, and full of wisdom from the nurtured memories. 

In the end, what it all boils down too is--to be released from the old world, we have to embrace the new, in the spirit of love. "Because of Annie."

Because of Annie.

Feb 23rd, 2018: The following blogs were written by me (Bob) and reflect my many phases of grief. If you read them, it may help you better understand how you're feeling. None of us grieve the same, but we will and we must grieve the loss of our loved one. You must grieve to get through grief. In my case I'm getting through it, but doubt I'll ever get over it.

The blogs were written, submitted to the Caregivers Space, Ny, Ny., to be published nationally as well as internationally. They've been well received. They were individually written between Jan 1st, 2015 and July 2017, along with over 50 more. As you can and will see, my grief was driven by a deep love for my wife of 39 years, Annie. 

About Bob Harrison

Bob Harrison was raised in the heart of the Redwoods in the far northwest corner of northern California. The little town of Crescent City, California was located near some of the world’s tallest trees, with the west shoreline being the Pacific Ocean. Bob spent most of his time fishing the two local rivers where some of the finest Steelhead and Salmon fishing is located. He was also well known up and down the north coast as an avid motorcycle racer, winning several hundred trophies, and one Oregon State title. Bob graduated from Del Norte High School with the class of 1966, then spent a one year stint at the College of the Redwoods, before having a strong sense of patriotism and joining the United States Air Force. After three years of service, Bob met Annie, the love of his life, and they got married in England in 1972. Bob’s love of country pushed him on to what turned out to be a very successful career, retiring in 1991. Bob’s last military assignment was Wichita, Kansas, a place he and Annie decided to call home. Together they developed and ran two very successful antique businesses until the stranger knocked on their door and changed their lives forever; “Because of Annie.

Grief & Loneliness

Caregiver grief & loneliness

On 28 December 2015 I posted Grief: a silent killer. In the article I discussed caregiving, grief, stress and the role they play in our long term well being. After reading over one hundred-fifty comments to the blog on the Caregiver Space Facebook page, I saw an alarming issue that I failed to address, and it’s a key ingredient to the others when caregiving, grieving, or after the grief.

Loneliness

Caregiving can create a strong sense of loneliness, as folks, often friends and family just seem to disappear into thin air.  That’s compounded by the fact that sometimes communication with our loved one can be very limited due to the nature of the disease or illness.  In other words, there may be no communication for lengthy periods of time.

When I was caring for my wife Annie, due to her low immunity we could go several days without a visitor of any sort.  And the fact that she was on high dose narcotics didn’t help matters any as, she slept much of the time.  

What made matters even worse, was that Annie, although very ill was lonely too.  It’s can be a real oxymoron.  People can be a nuisance at times, when they come into your home and all they want to talk about is their problems, especially to a woman that is in her hospital bed dying of cancer.  But being desperate, loneliness often wants them there anyway.  Company becomes company, and the conversation, no matter what it is, becomes fresh and new, with a new voice. Sometimes the new voice takes the patient or loved ones mind off their own illness, and that’s a good thing.   

It seems to me, what it boils down to is communication.  I wasn’t very good at communicating to friends and family that we could sure use some company.  Instead, I just wondered why not many people stopped by.  It’s tough.  There were times when people did stop by and Annie had very low immunity, the new rules, as laid down by her oncologist, had changed the rules on the playing field.  I wasn’t allowed to let any person, especially children, near her over the fear of her catching a germ which could lead to a very serious, and in-fact fatal infection. So I had to turn them away. So as you can see, loneliness is a big part of caregiveing, and can happen through no fault of anyone, or the fault of everyone and everything.  Sometimes, loneliness simply gets lost in translation.   

Grief also creates a strong sense of loneliness, and can lead to a lot of solitude. On the other hand we may be surrounded by people, but we’re still lonely over our loss. In essence grief and loneliness go hand in hand. It’s the double edged sword effect.

When one grieves over a loss, there can be a strong sense of isolation, and in that instance the isolation creates the loneliness.  And I might add, the loneliness felt from feeling isolated is a real problem and can cause mental health issues.

I saw Dr. Bryant, my psychologist, the evening of 30 December 2015.  He said to me, “my biggest concern at the moment is dealing with your loneliness.”  He said it can create instability in a person, depression, anxiety and escalate to a whole sundry of other problems, which perpetuates being lonely.  Many of the illnesses I went through in 2015, probably used loneliness as a contributing factor.

From his words, loneliness is not to be trifled with, and can make you sick over time.  Having said that, a full recovery is possible when and if the loneliness dissipates.

Metaphor

When I was 20 years old I joined the Air Force.  After basic training and technical school I was sent to England for 3 years.  The first six months in England, even though I worked most days and made many new friends, I felt like I was the loneliest guy on the planet.  Over time, I think the cycle broke rather naturally as I accepted my fate. I was going to be there for 3 years whether I liked it or not, so I might as well spend my time having some fun.  So I did!  Eventually, I felt less lonely with my military buddies than, I had at any point in my life.

The truth

In the metaphor the loneliness was real, but there was always going to be a fix. After all, I had a maximum time limit of 3 years to the loneliness, then I’d be going home, and I could always see the light at the end of the tunnel.  

Losing a loved one is the real deal.  There is no time limit on anything to do with grief or the loneliness, and at the time not much hope either.  And there is no magic wand to wave and make things better.  

The dynamics of grief is such that we can literally bury ourselves in our own sorrow, cutting ourselves off from the outside world, and our family and friends.  In doing so, we inadvertently create circumstances that will fester, and develop into full blown loneliness, during and after the grief.

Understanding that loneliness and stress are bits and pieces of grief, one needs to take grief very seriously. When mixing the three together, the grief can become very intense over a short period of time, and in the case of elderly couples it can lead to extreme grief which develops into the broken heart syndrome. In a research study over a 9 year period of over 373,189 elderly U.S. couples, by Nicholas A. Christakis of Harvard, and Felix Elwert of the University of Wisconsin, it was noted that in 18 percent of surviving male spouses and 13 percent of surviving female spouses died not long after their other half, from sudden death due to all causes.  So if you lose and elderly parent, and the other parent is alive, pay attention to them. Help them through their loss if you can.

Personally, I despise being lonely.  But it’s my burden to carry and I carry it every day, where ever I go. My life has turned into a 4 step program. First there was Caregiving, then the grief and stress, now loneliness. That’s a lot for me or anyone else to deal with.  It’s like being caught in a shadow world where one minute you can see your shadow and the next minute you can’t. Meaning, we walk out of the house with good intentions thinking we have it all figured out, then soon realize, we don’t. It’s just another illusion of happiness. It’s really tough to have anything other than spurts of happiness when your lonely.

Another point I should make is that loneliness is kind of like grief, in that it allows us to make poor decisions. Perhaps, we might do things we wouldn’t normally do for a fleeting moment of self gratification.  For example, buying a new expensive feel good toy that elevates our spirits for the moment, but when we get home we think, how silly, I don’t want, or will never use that toy. And the beat goes on.

How do we get out of loneliness

I say we, because I’m stuck in the loneliest period of my life as I write this article. Yes, I could go out and meet someone, but I’m smarter than that.  Loneliness is very deceptive. I could one day get over the loneliness, and wake up one morning with someone that I don’t want to be with, or perhaps, I don’t get over the loneliness quick enough, and she decides she’s made a bad decision and leaves me. Either way, someone often gets hurt.

What I think I’m going to do is, get more involved with volunteer work, which will get me out into the community and help me start meeting new people, and doing some things that I might not necessarily want to do, but in order to break the cycle of loneliness, I need to do. I really have no other answers, or options that I know of. I’ve been told, yoga and meditation are helpful, but I’m not that guy. I know this, being around family and grandkids provides some comfort from the storm, but are not the answer. The answer lies from deep within me, and I just have to dive in and pull it out.

This has to be my year, and I’m going to get better and break the cycle of loneliness, no matter what it takes. I know, I’ll stumble, maybe fall a few times, but each time I do I’ll get right back up, dust myself off and try again.  

When I was in the 7th grade, and at a school dance, I was so afraid to ask a girl to dance with me, in case she said no. But I did it, and after I got turned down a couple times, I became more determined than ever to get a dance. Then fate intervened, and this cute little  popular girl named Bonnie, walked up to me and asked me if I’d dance with her. I couldn’t believe my luck.

One thing I know for sure.  Sitting around in this house day after day is not going to break the cycle of loneliness, or change my luck, but it could break me if I don’t get that dance.  

And sometimes, despite all we do to break the cycle of loneliness, we still need a little help. So, as I sort of did at the dance, put yourself out there and just maybe fate will do the rest. It’s not going to be easy, but you can do it, and so can I.

My fear is, if we fail, the consequences could be dire.

I wish you the best!  

bob@thecaregiverspace.org

After The Death: grief & dreams   After the death: grief & dreams

After being my wife Annie’s caregiver for thirty months through her battle with cancer, I lost her. I started out as a novice caregiver, but over time I got my Caregiving PhD through on-the-job training. It didn’t take me long to realize the pain and torment some caregivers go through is really badIt was as if my body was always in motion, relentlessly moving to the beat of a hostile drum. Their wasn’t much time for me to sit and relax, sleep, or do many of the things that would have been good for me.

Within the first month I realized my body no longer belonged to me, I was a Caregiver. In my case there was no room for being selfish or of wanting anything that might be good for my well-being. But you know what, for thirty months my body never let me down and I gave everything I had in me to Annie. Never once did I get a cough, a cold, or a fever–I just willed my body onward. So, there I was always moving forward trying to stay one step ahead of the pain and fight off any infections. Annie’s bones were very badly diseased, she had virtually no immunity on a daily basis, and needed to live in a sterilized room as much as possible. A very difficult task!

Grief

Technically, from the day I heard Annie's prognosis I started grieving.  After all, a three week prognosis is not very long. As you already know, Annie survived 30 months fighting a nasty cancer. I was told that I was fortunate, in that when I lost her my grief would not be as bad–I had been grieving for quite some time. Don’t ever buy into that theory, it’s not right.

When Annie died, this body that was always in motion lost it’s purpose. I felt like I hit a brick wall doing one-hundred miles an hour. She was just gone–no more giving her medications to her, tucking her in at night, washing her body and beautiful hair, cutting her finger and toe nails, messaging her legs when they hurt, sitting beside and sleeping in a recliner in the hospital for over one-hundred days, telling her and reassuring her “that this is not it Annie,” you’re gonna get through this event, and simply loving her with all my heart and soul–She was just gone! After the initial shock and knee buckling pain my mind started asking questions. Is she okay? How is she doing? Where is she? My faith told me she was in Heaven and doing just fine–but to me in the initial stages of grief, heaven didn’t have a role to play. I just wanted her back!!

An accidental solution: dreams

Having so many questions without answers was eating away at me from the inside out. I was searching for answers. Then one night I laid my head down on my pillow and looked across the five feet to her empty hospital bed. I noticed the sports bandage on her night stand that she wore after braking her pinkie finger. Eureka! A light bulb went on. Annie would sprinkle “Sweet Pea Jasmine” oil on her sports bandage, get in her wheelchair and move around the room wiping it on our fabric furniture and curtains. It made our house smell lovely. My thoughts were, that if I go get the oil and sprinkle it on my pillow I might have a sweet dream of her. I quickly checked the internet to see what it had to say. It said, by laying in a bed of rose petals it is sometimes possible to invoke a sweet dream, however, it can’t be targeted. I was very disappointed but at that point I was not going to give up. When I went to the wicker basket where she kept the oil, I noticed her perfume. I got really excited, and felt like great things were going to happen this night.

And they did! When I laid my head back down I said a prayer to my creator asking him to let me see Annie one more time, then sprayed her perfume on the pillow and the blanket up near where my face was. After I fell asleep I had the most beautiful dream of Annie. She was standing beside her hospital bed, dancing around in a pair of pajamas I bought her, letting me see she was okay. She was turning from side to side, letting me see that her spine was no longer bowed out, and her legs were healed. She was finally free of all the torment and pain she had been suffering. She seemed happy! I couldn’t see her face, but I knew it was Annie.

Isn’t it ironic? Her special perfume was “Angel.” The first four out of five nights I used the perfume I had a pleasant dream of Annie. The stronger the scent the more vivid the dream. And after the first couple of days, I always saw her face. Knowing that greed is a bad thing I didn’t ask to see her or spray the perfume every night, but when I did, the combination worked.

Several months later I was having problems with a question that kept going around in my head. “I can’t let go of her, until she lets go of me.” I went to see my psychologist, Dr. Bryant, and posed the question to him. He looked at me very seriously and said in a soft voice, “Bob, she is not holding on to you!” I said in a soft voice, “I believe she is.” That night I sprayed the perfume and asked for clarification of my question. What I’m going to tell you was simply amazing. When the dream came, Annie and I were up on a grassy hillside, hand in hand, arms swinging in unison like a couple of kids. When the dream ended, we were standing on a porch. Annie had let go of my hand. There was a lady with dark hair standing in the doorway behind an old-fashioned screen door. I looked at her then turned to Annie who had her hand extended to me. She wanted to slap hands. I reached over and gently slapped my hand against hers. She gave me a beautiful smile, turned and stepped off the porch and disappeared. What did it mean? I believe that Annie was telling me when I’m ready it’s okay to move on. She had just let go of my hand.

Note: After several experience’s with dreams, I went to the store where she purchased it and was able to speak to the Angel representative. She told me that Angel contains the same ingredients used in aroma therapy, but much stronger. If I had to give one warning it would be that some of the dreams were not pleasant, and were deeply troubling. I used her Angel until it ran out and although I still have the bottle, I won’t refill it. While grieving I believe my mind had opened up to a higher level of consciousness, hence even life felt very vivid. So when I witnessed trauma on a routine basis as I did, sometimes when dreaming I think I triggered the mechanism in our brain that allows psychic trauma to creep in. In other words, re-live a traumatic event through your dreams. It’s not and individual event, but just as traumatic. Annie wore Angel perfume for nineteen years. So that became her trade mark scent and I loved it.

If you’re grieving it’s very important to keep a journal or diary of how you feel and some of the events that take place from day to day. Later on in your grief, it becomes so important to be able to look back and reflect on your journey. In a sense you are tracking your grief and can clearly see if you are getting better or not. The dreams I spoke of and the many more I had were all documented in real time and now I can use them for a reference point, and share some with others. Believe me, in grief that’s a win, win, situation.

Grief A Silent Killer   Grief: A silent killer

You know, I could start this article out with a bunch of fancy words and statistics to perhaps prove a point, but I really don’t need to.

Annie’s journey through cancer was very difficult, and the truth is, she was always dying a little more each day. From the moment of her diagnosis/prognosis, which was, “we can’t figure out why she is still alive,” but she may have “three to four weeks.” Imagine trying to wrap your head around that grim news.

And I get it, when someone says, “why would you post this blog during the holiday season when spirits are running so high.” My answer, “why wouldn’t I.”  You see, I’m now thankful for what I have, which to me is the gift of having the ability and platform to share stories and events that are happening to caregivers every minute of every day, and don’t magically disappear during the holidays. I say things that many folks are thinking, but don’t want to talk about. I call it “The Truth.”  

And the truth is, none of the serious illness we get are discriminatory.  I don’t care if you’re a Republican or a Democrat, a lawyer or a doctor, rich or poor, black or white, it just doesn’t matter. Many of the serious diseases will level the playing field for all, and can bring you down no matter who you are. And you will most likely need a caregiver.  Someone like me that truly does care for your well-being regardless of your status in life, and willing to share stories or articles with you anytime of the year. Some may just help you get through a rough patch.

Caregiving is like going on a journey where no person has gone before. Why, because if you haven’t been through the experience, you can’t possibly understand the concept of just how difficult being a caregiver can be.  It will take you to places where you don’t want to go, and having you doing things that you don’t want to do. Your emotions will get very elevated at times, and your stress level can be at the top of the charts.  In essence, stress from being a caregiver can, and if not controllable, create a very unstable and unhealthy lifestyle.

Stress

There are many books floating around out there on how to manage your stress.  Well they may be fine when dealing with normal day to day lifetime stressful issues, and we all have them, some worse than others, but if you think a caregiver deals with typical stresses, think again.  

Enter the caregiver for a terminally ill loved one, whatever the disease, throw in Alzheimer's or Dementia, then you can honestly say, as did Tom Hanks from Apollo 13, “Houston, we have a problem.”  And I don’t care how many books you read on stress, they are words and guidelines that can become meaningless to a caregiver under some very challenging, and tremendously unsettling circumstances. Imagine, under the dire circumstances of Apollo 13, someone handing Tom Hanks a book on how to deal with extreme stress. I wonder what his words would have been.  Probably not, “oh, thank you.”

Yes, that was a simple metaphor, but in reality many caregivers face that scenario every day. And the truth is, there is no instruction manual or stress guide that can help you in the heat of the moment, which in truth is a moment that can be created many times a day, day after day. Tom Hanks was flying Apollo 13 by the seat of his pants, and so goes the caregiver.  We have to adjust and improvise as events unfold. And of course, making the right decisions at the time will determine the outcome of the event.  Good or bad.  No pressure, huh.

If you don’t know by now, you should know, over and extended period of time, stress is a killer. It’s a fact that, many caregiver’s will get ill and die before the person their caring for dies. And it’s usually form some sort of live or dormant disorder that is triggered by excessive stress.  

To prove my point I’m going to tell you what happened to me over the entire year of 2015, and why. It’s scary, and sneaks up on you without warning.

Extreme Caregiver

What is an extreme caregiver? Simply put, in my opinion, it’s a person that takes on the role of being a caregiver for a loved one that needs ongoing 24/7 care, which can lead to severe weight loss over a period of time, many sleepless nights, all while dealing with chaos and confusion from lack of instructions…And does it in a selfless manner, without complaint and with no regard for their own well-being.

That’s the way it was caring for Annie, as her hope for another day rested with me. There was no other choice. Annie had many broken bones from the cancer and was basically wheelchair bound, and in a hospital bed from the third week on. Just rolling her over in a manner that didn’t break another bone was a challenge.  Her bones were very badly diseased from the cancer. She was on 200mg of Morphine a day, plus a Fentanyl patch, and Percocet when needed. Her pain medication, which she had to have, was my biggest nightmare.

I knew from day one Annie would not survive her cancer, but I guess I couldn’t accept the facts as they were presented to me. So, I spoke of my fears to her oncologist about all the pain medications she was on. He was brutally honest with me when he said that he was doing everything he could to keep her alive, and my job was to keep her out of pain. Then with strange facial expressions he explained to me the type of pain she was in, and walked away saying, “stay ahead of the pain Bob,” then turning back to say that if I get behind on pain control, playing catch up can be very dangerous as one extra pill can lead to the overdose that kills her. I guess I needed to hear that, and it seemed to make me more determined than ever to fight for her.

It was up to me to make sure that when she took her medications, I kept an eye on her for the first couple of hours watching for shallow breathing.  If the breathing were to get too shallow, Annie could stop breathing altogether, and die. That was a huge responsibility for me, especially when trying to rest at night. I found myself continually waking up and looking at her chest to make sure she had positive air flow. Some nights her shallow breathing was so bad I stayed up all night, giving her a head massage and talking to her.

Bottom line is, I loved her and was willing to do whatever it took to keep her alive. Yes I was tired, but I knew I had the rest of my life to sleep and get rest, but in her case the days were numbered, it was not a matter of if, but when.

In a sense, my life was no longer mine. It belonged to everything I put into caring for Annie. And I would not change a thing. I loved her deeply, and whatever part of her that was not my world, became my world. My position in her life was way more than just being a loving husband.  I was determined to make sure that when the sun set, even during the dark of night, she had the best possible chance of surviving for sun rise, and the dawning of a new day.  

Grief

Thirty months after diagnosis, Annie passed. She died with the same grace she fought cancer with. She took me on an extraordinary 30 month journey, allowing me to see what a precious gift she was to me, while helping me understand love in a way that many people never will. I discovered, that for that moment in time, true love penetrated deep into my soul, there was no anger, no resentment, and I found it to be very spiritual. It seemed that my goal in life while caring for Annie was to share every minute I could with her in happiness. Despite everything cancer had in its arsenal to hurt Annie with, we fought back on a daily basis, and we had some fun.  

Annie’s journey through cancer was never about living, it was always about dying, and a caregiver man and his beautiful wife that simply refused to throw in the towel. We literally fought until the end.

When you consider what I just said, when Annie died it was like I hit a brick wall doing one hundred miles an hour. I was totally lost, swallowed up by darkness and despair.  I just wanted her back. Nothing else mattered.  That went on for about three years, day and night.  I didn’t know from one day to the next if I was coming or going and for that matter didn’t really care.  Over a period of  the 4th year the pain started easing considerably, and I was starting to feel alive again. So I thought.

Stress related illnesses

The year 2015 was the worst year of my life for healthcare issues. I was never a sickly person, and all through Annie’s illness I never even had a sniffle. My four years of grief were not quite uneventful.  I was put on heart medication to control heart palpitations that started a few months after Annie died.

A few months after Annie passed I went to see my general practitioner for a physical. The only problem he found was low vitamin D.  Still, his lingering words,  “Bob, there will be consequences for your extreme caregiving, they just haven’t reared their ugly head yet,” still ring in my head.  I think his thoughts at the time, followed by 3 years of intense grief,  and the 4th year spend  coming down from grief, created the perfect storm in 2015. My immune system broke down from all the stress.

In January of 2015 I had my annual physical. All my red blood cell counts were abnormally low. The low blood counts were later on diagnosed as being caused by moderate to severe Gastritis with anemia.  Also, I had two separate lung infections with inflammation, requiring steroid treatment, followed by shingles. Then out of nowhere, came a high level of full body inflammation which triggered a search for tumors in my body.  The inflammation in my body cause me to have what I called the perpetual flu, every day for 6 weeks. My general practitioner asked me if there was any place in or on my body where I didn’t hurt, I said, “my feet.”  He kind of laughed as he left the room.

It’s been a long year for me.  The low blood counts and inflammation triggered so many tests, I felt like a pin cushion. I’ve had a heart catheter, colonoscopy, gastroscopy, x-rays, and a sundry of other tests. Plenty of antibiotics, steroids, pain pills for shingles and so on. It was simply one thing after the other spread out over the year.

It seems like I’ve weathered the storm for now, but I have some more testing in January. The good news is, I don’t have auto immune disease, the bad news is, my full body inflammation can return at any time triggering another round of shingles and other illnesses.  

I’ve climbed a mountain of health issues this year, but caring for Annie taught me how to fight through illnesses that to her would have been commonplace.

The answer, Caregiver=stress, Love=stress, Pain=stress

Under the circumstances as I presented them above, I don’t believe there is an answer to stress relief. Problem is, if you really love someone, when they hurt, physically you can’t feel their pain, but in your heart you certainly can and will feel their pain.  

When my wife Annie was standing beside me and I heard her right femur snap and her hip break, and the audible sound of pain, all I could do was catch her as she was falling. Where do I put that! When she was put on the ventilator for 5 days fighting double pneumonia, sepsis (blood poisoning), and swine flu, I was told the odds of her surviving this event were incalculable. Where do I put that!  The 4 or 5 times the doctors told me that Annie would probably not survive the night, where does that go.  These types of events were a main stay of Annie’s illness.  They happened often.

Looking back, it’s obvious I was living in anticipatory grief.  Not knowing from one day to the next if she was going to survive or not. So in essence, the stress was not going anywhere. It was interlocked with the anticipatory grief and went with me where ever I went.  You can’t make the feeling of doom and gloom go away and you can’t relax or read it out of your head.  It’s there, and there it will stay. You’re gradually getting sick, and you don’t even know it.  You think you are just sad.

Then, over time Annie passed. The anticipatory grief turned to full blown grief and from that point on, the stress was firmly entrenched in the grief cycle.

Three months after Annie passed I started seeing Dr. Bryant, Psychologist. The first six months I saw him twice a week, one hour a session.  Five years later I still see him on a weekly basis for an hour each session.  

I can look back on the many times, when I got back into my vehicle for the drive home after leaving his office, feeling okay, then I’d see something that reminded me of Annie and all the dark emotions came flooding back. Like I said, stress and grief are sort of intertwined, and stress seems to piggybacks off of grief.  

When I first found out I was not well in 2015, the damage to my immune system  had been occurring over a period of the previous six and one-half years. How was I to know that?  And what could I have done to fix it, if I had of known?  There is no magic potion or pill to take away ones pain. Yes, the pain can be masked through medication, but when the mask comes off, guess what, the grief that you haven’t dealt with is right there waiting for you with all its glory and stress.

Bottom line, if you love deeply, you will grieve deeply, the stress will be strong and right there with you too. Stress can be, and sometimes is, “the silent killer.”

Grief: Time Stands Still

Grief: time stands still

One of the most painful experiences a loving caregiver will ever witness, is the dreaded moment when time stands still, and a loved one slips away in front of your eyes. Sadly, there’s nothing you can do to comfort the burden of your pain. It’s there, it’s real, and the grieving process that’s already firmly entrenched in your mind, will begin in earnest. Grief’s arrow will pierce your heart.

Metaphor

This is not how it happened to me, but in a sense it is. And if I didn’t know the truth, I couldn’t speak it.

Internally or vocally you’re screaming out in pain, but no one knows the depth of your sorrow, but you. Everything around you becomes an illusion, where it becomes difficult to process the real from the unreal. You know you saw your loved one pass, but in your mind it’s a case of, “maybe it just a dream.” It didn’t really happen, did it?

You find yourself standing on the edge of a cliff, not sure which way you’re going to fall. You become frightened, you’re lost and don’t know what to do, and then it hits you, this is real, as you fall back into a chair mumbling the words, “I just want my loved one back.”

The pain is excruciating, the fog of death is thick, and you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that “life as you knew it has, changed forever.” There’s no going back, the care giving for your loved one is now over, and I can honestly tell you from experience, you’ve just traded one nightmare for another.

In my case, being a caregiver for my dying wife Annie was a nightmare. My anticipatory grief was always present, and in the forefront of my thoughts. She so wanted to live, but was not afraid to die. I guess I just wanted her to live, and having to let her go at the end, was beyond my understanding of how life was supposed to be. The emotional drag put on my life by viewing her death has not been good, and doesn’t create a good last memory. The medical personnel telling me how peaceful her death was, by noting the lack of stress on her face, meant nothing. She was just gone!

Oh sure, all her pain and suffering from the cancer was gone, and her nightmare was over, but for me, my nightmare was just beginning. And that may sound a bit selfish, but grievers know, “it’s the truth.”

There’s no second chance to say I love you, fix her a nice meal, or to do the special things for her that sometimes made her day. This body that was continually in motion for thirty months, was now at a standstill. It was like being on a merry-go-round for thirty months, going round and round, never stopping. Then it happens! The merry-go-round stops, and you can no longer stand, so you fall to your knees, head still spinning from all that you went through. And when you finally raise your head and look up, what do you see. In my case it was darkness, laced with a lot of chaos from fear of the unknown. Which is the same fear I, and most likely you felt when care giving and battling for your loved ones life. You are now back on the merry-go-round, but this time it’s different, it’s the merry-go-round of grief!

This is my fifth year post grief and I’ve written thousands upon thousands of words on the subject, but this post was truly meant to be about that moment in time, “When time stands still.”

Still, I need to say this: If your new to the world of grief, or been a griever for awhile, the most important advice I can give you is to not hold back your emotions. You must let them flow. Your tears are your best friend, and if you’re like me, you may cry a thousand tears, think you’re getting better, and cry a thousand more. You’re a griever, where logic is simply a state of mind, which may or may not play a role in your healing process. If you’re feeling locked up, get the photo albums out and start browsing through your pictures. That will allow you to revisit old memories which may get your tears flowing again. I’ve said this before, you have to grieve to get through grief.

Journal your thoughts, or simply jot them down on a piece of scrap paper with a date. That’s how I tracked my grief. I could look back over a year or two and proclaim, “wow, you were really messed up dude!” Not realizing I was still messed up, just not as bad. I was healing. And I knew it based on old notes I’d written. And the photo albums, well, when you can look back on the old memories, and the emotional rush doesn’t hit you so hard, or the tears fall in more of a random pattern, you are healing.

I’d like to share something with you, that a stranger recently posted as a tribute on Annie online memorial.

As you read the tribute, think how important “Your Story” would be to others. All grievers have their own unique story to tell, and think of the people you could touch, and perhaps help by sharing your journey through grief. And believe it or not, over time it becomes refreshingly healing.

Tribute

“I can never thank you enough for sharing your journey with us. The help you have extended goes way beyond the readers and posters here. So much to say, but for now, adding what Henri Nouwen said in OUR GREATEST GIFT, our “fruitfulness” lives on way beyond our passing; it is then at its greatest.. There is no greater love than sharing the dying process with the dying. Nothing harder. Should Nouwen be alive today, you and Annie would be added to an updated version of Our Greatest Gift. What a gift that you have given to us, especially me.

God’s peace always..”

Henri Nouwen, was considered one of the great writers of our time. A Dutch Catholic priest, professor, writer and theologian. His interests were rooted primarily in psychology, pastoral ministry, spirituality, social justice and community. Henri passed away in 1996. Wikipedia

Posted by Bob Harrison on February 10, 2016
Hi Sweetie. I had a biopsy last Wednesday of my prostrate gland. The Urologist took sixteen samples of tissue all around and internally too. My odds of having cancer based on my blood test came out at 17 percent. So now I wait until the 17th February to find out if I'm okay, or entering a nightmare. Prostate cancer caught early is treatable and survivable unless aggressive, then it is way more difficult. Regardless, treatment for prostate cancer really messes men up. No good options. Terrible subject. Things are going okay on the home front. Nothing going on out of the ordinary, we all still miss you terribly. I was a guest on a radio show the other day that is called Advocacy Heals U. It went really well. And guess what? I got to talk a lot about you. My favorite and most loved subject. It will always be that way. It's been five years, and nothing has changes in that regard. I love you sweetie. Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on January 22, 2016
Hi Sweetie, It's been over five years two months since I lost you. And anyone that says it gets easier with time, well, their right. But it doesn't change a thing' The loneliness still grips me, it's like I'm in a vice of sorts, and it's hard to move without seeing or thinking of you. I was talking to Andrew tonight, and telling him I'm so glad I didn't sell our home. Your presence is still everywhere. It may be an illusion, but I can see your presence moving in the hallway with your walker or pushing your wheelchair trying to get some exercise hoping that would help your body heal. You fought so hard, but in the end, we had to say good-bye. I love you my sweetheart, God I miss you. I'll always love you, Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on December 25, 2015
Merry Christmas Annie! I love you. This Christmas will be a carbon copy of the other 4 since you passed. Not going to do much. Plan on staying at home, and simply getting through my loneliness. It's not so bad on a day to day basis, but the holidays are hard to deal with. So many memories are made during holiday seasons, especially Christmas. Makes it difficult for those who have suffered a loss. But, tomorrow will come and it will go. And if I'm still here, we'll just have to wait and what God's plan is for next year. It's a mystery at the moment. Rest in piece sweetie, and yes I do have a lot to be thankful for, like--I was once kissed by an Angel. xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on December 12, 2015
Annie, it's your birthday today. This is the fifth year it's come and gone, and I simply live the day in memory of you. What else can I do? It's not fun, there is no party favors or gifts. Just an empty feeling, and the memory of the love we shared. One day maybe I'll feel differently, but apparently it won't be this year. I love you kiddo. Rest in Peace Annie. xoxo
Posted by Doreen Barber on December 12, 2015
Annie, This is a special day to remember fond memories of you, sending you birthday wishes to heaven. Love and miss you sis. Love your sister Doreen xxx
Posted by Bob Harrison on November 2, 2015
My Sweet Annie, this virtual flower is for you--you were my one and only. Five years ago today you left for a better place. It's still all so sad. Five years--sometimes it seems like it was just yesterday, and other times it seems like it was an eternity ago. But, as I am learning, death brings complexities to ones life that are often difficult to understand at times. I know this, 5 years later I've written a couple million words, at least, about you and your iconic journey through cancer in an effort to help others. Later today our anniversary blog I wrote will post on the Caregiver Space. It's a short note from me to you. Full of questions, which are lacking in answers, and perhaps will never be answered. It's full of love to. I love you sweetie, Rest In Peace MY Darling. xoxo
Posted by Michelle Lisle on November 2, 2015
Annie The English rose,Five years how fast time goes,I know your hubby miss you so much,Always telling storys all the time,How he met you !!! Plus He met a English lass I bet you put him in his place,He called me crazy I don"t know why lol,You used to wear Angel perfume just like me its gorgeous last for days,So when i have spray i think of you Now you are a Angel in Heaven,Say Hi to my David And my paps!!!Be lucky Annie free has a Bird XxxX
Posted by Doreen Barber on November 2, 2015
Annie, Another year has passed and you are forever in my thoughts and heart. Always love and miss you. love your sister Doreen xxx
Posted by Bob Harrison on October 19, 2015
Hi Sweetie, Losing you has left my life in a real turmoil. I knew it was not going to be easy, but I was not prepared for the sadness and difficulty of readjusting to life after a death. It will be 5 years Nov 2nd, and I simply don't like being without you. Some say I need a companion, and maybe I do, but, I don't want one. Yet life is so lonely. Problem is, no one can fill your shoes, and I know I would be judgmental, not in a mean way, simply comparing someone to you. Which, I believe, if I'm reading what I just wrote correctly, I'm simply not ready to share my life with another. I still love you Annie. Bobby xoxo
Posted by Ginny Sorrell on October 5, 2015
I can never thank you enough for sharing your journey with us. The help you have extended goes way beyond the readers and posters here. So much to say but for now adding what Henri Nouwen said in OUR GREATEST GIFT, our "fruitfulness" lives on way beyond our passing; it is then at its greatest( In my own words of course). There is no greaater love than sharing the dying process with the dying. Nothing harder. Should Nouwen be alive today, you and Annie would be added to an updated version of OGG. What a gift that you have given to us, especially me. God's peace always..
Posted by Bob Harrison on September 30, 2015
Hi sweetie, the day after dad died I broke out with the shingles. Took me back to when you were fighting cancer and got the shingles, which for you became a life threatening event. But together, we beat it back. The shingles for me were just a sideshow, as when I'm not well I think of you and your tenacious will to live and ability to fight off infections. I sure wish you were here. I miss you so much. It's just so painful knowing I can't hold you in my arms again. I can't believe it, you didn't do anything wrong, and yet here we are. You're gone, and I'm suffering a loss that I was not prepared for. I love you Annie. xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on September 16, 2015
My Sweet Annie, the day is rapidly approaching--it will be the 5th Anniversary of your death on Nov 2, 2015. And things aren't all that good on the home front. The 14th, 15th, 16th, I woke calling out your name. Annie is that you, Annie where are you, Annie are you there, no those are not quotes but I was waking and heard what I said. It's so sad. I was in Kohl's tonight, and the smell of your sweet scent, excitedly moving from one clothes rack to the other was everywhere. When I walk in there, it's always immediately about you. I guess some things never change, nor do I want them too. I need to feel your presence once in awhile, "Lest we forget." I love you sweetie, I will be writing you more as the big day approaches. It really is driving my emotions. Oh, this Saturday night, 19th, is the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's big night. Light The Night Walk. And as always we will be there as a family in force, and walk the 2 1/2 miles in your honor. I love you. xoxoxox
Posted by Bob Harrison on August 31, 2015
Hi Sweetie, On Aug 27th, 2015, at 10:28 P.M, central time, Dad died. It was unexpected, but then again it wasn't. He had been in and out of the hospital three times over a two months period with pneumonia. I wasn't there, but stayed in close touch with my sister Teri who had been his caregiver for the last 8 years. It was a sad evening, as after losing both mom and dad I felt like a fish out of water. Not so much grief, as I'm still grieving my loss of you almost five years on, and it doesn't leave much room for other grief. But still, I shall miss him. He was my Dad, and as you know, an exceptionally kind man. I love you sweetie, xoxo Bobby
Posted by Bob Harrison on July 28, 2015
Hi Sweetie, I'm just a little over half way getting our home repainted. It's taking awhile, but I'm taking my time and doing it right. Janet from next door has been helping me. She comes over for about 3 hours in the morning, when she leaves I take an hour break then get back to it. It called Bayside blue, but it does not look like a typical blue. It's more like a deep ocean looking green in the shade, and takes on more of a greenish blue color in the sunlight. It's really cool. I wish you were here. I'd love to see your expression if you were to walk up to the house. I'm not quite sure what you might think, but most likely you would be pleased. When I get through painting the outside, I'll take a break, then start on the inside during the winter months. I call it the family safe house. I love and miss you everyday, and of course wish you were here. I'm gonna win five bucks from my brother Tim. He said after you died I would be married within five years. Nov 2nd, 2015 will be the fifth anniversary of your death and I haven't even dated. That's how much I loved you. Rest in Peace--Hugs and Kisses, Bobby. xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on July 15, 2015
Hi Sweetie, Hope you're doing alright. Sometimes I get on here just to listen to your music. It reminds me of the days after you went away, and never came back. I wish you were hear, life would be so much more beautiful, and not surrounded by uncertainty. We were a team for 39 years, and some times when a member of a two person teams goes missing it's hard to function, or recover from the tragedy. I do try, but I miss your touch, your love, which can never be replicated. There was and always be only one you. You gave the best love, the best hugs, I guess I just miss you. And I gonna love and miss you for a long, long time. RIP darling, see you in my dreams, I believe. I love you, Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on July 7, 2015
Hi Sweetie, Spent the 4th of July with Malissa and her family, well, I didn't get down there until 5 PM., their neighborhood was having a block party. Melissa's husband Van spent the day at the grill as did some of the other neighbors, there was a lot of good food. I didn't eat that much as my stomach lining is losing blood. I've been very tired over the past 1 1/2 years, and despite all my complaining to the doctor I guess he never took me seriously. In fact seven months ago I had my physical exam, and on the lab reports all my red blood cell groups had markers on them as being abnormal low. Apparently the doctor didn't see them, and his nurse told me I had a good physical with no problems noted. Here I am 7 months later, after just having a colonoscopy and my stomach scoped, finding out that the lining of my stomach is bleeding and of course that's why my blood counts are low. I'm very anemic, with excessive fatigue. The doctor took some biopsies, but I wont get the results for 2 more days. He thinks it's moderate to sever gastritis with anemia (bleeding). When I see the doctor on Wednesday, if I don't get a satisfactory answer as to where the blood is coming from, I'm gonna request an appointment with the cancer center. This is exactly how it happened to you. I've been losing blood, or have had low blood counts for over a year and a half now, as they were low during my physical in Jan 2014 too. And the doctor hasn't noticed. Hard to believe. Oh well, we'll just wait and see how it goes on Wednesday. Sweetie I'm not worried, and after watching you fight so hard for 30 months, I have a role model to help me stay strong. I Love you tons Annie, I miss you. Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on June 29, 2015
Hi Sweetie, how you doing darling. I decided to paint our home, got rather creative on the color. It's called Bayside Blue. It's so cool. It looks like the deep green and blue color of a lake or the ocean. I love it. Had to replace a bunch of siding too. Since you got sick and then my 4 year grief the house was in neglect. I want to leave it in the family so I thought I'd better fix it up. Weird, all the decorating and planning was always your responsibility. But I think I did a good job, and you would be pleased. Love you, I pray your resting in peace. Good night my love, Bobby xoxoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on May 18, 2015
Hi Sweetie, for the past 4 years without you I've had to learn to live on my own. I know, that probably seems rather silly, but being with you for 39 years and having a partner to share in on all the decisions seemingly allowed us to do everything right. Our successes in life were a joint effort. So I've decided to go out on a limb and repaint the house a different color. Scary. Since our house dominates the neighborhood in size, I have to be so careful with the color I choose. I refuse to stick to the traditional colors, as I know you were such a unique person and always thinking outside the box I need to as well. So I've chosen a color called, Bayside Blue, which on the wall looks a bit green. But that's my choice. For a trim I'm going to use a beige. We have so much trim, I believe it will tone down the base color a bit. I learned that from you. Lets just hope I get it right. Then I'm going to put all new windows in using the Pella brand to match our back sliding doors. It's gonna be beautiful, I just wish you could see it. Who knows, maybe you will. One of life's great mysteries. I love you sweetie, and always will. Bobby xoxo Rest in Peace Annie. xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on May 3, 2015
Hi Sweetie, just checking in. I know I don't leave the tributes or write on here the way I used too, but you know the truth. I stay busy writing about you on "The Caregiver Space" in New York City. Since Dec 2014 I published 30 blogs, and have 5 more scheduled. The last one I wrote which will be published in mid May, is 5,500 words and deals with the hospitals first attempt to put you on hospice. All my blogs fall under the heading of the book I wrote on you, "Because of Annie." It's all good baby, and I'm doing better now. Only took four years, and over a few million words. I love you darling, rest in peace Annie. Bobby xoxoxox
Posted by Bob Harrison on March 24, 2015
Hi Sweetie, not much happening around here. My birthday was on the 18th of March. All I did was stay in the house all day. It did start off okay. At midnight our daughter Melissa and our granddaughter Hannah pulled up to the house around 12:10 A.M. blowing the car horn to the tune Happy Birthday To You. Hannah jumped out of the car with two birthday helium filled balloons, followed by Melissa dancing to the music from her cell phone, "Uptown Funk." She and Hannah danced to that music on our front lawn and sang some made up happy birthday song. Then they presented me with my favorite cake you used to make me. German Chocolate Cake. I pigged out. They stayed about an hour and left. It was fun, but we were missing you. I wish I could see you. Rest well baby, Bobby xoxoxoxoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on March 2, 2015
Hi Sweetie, we laugh, we live, we love, and sometimes we die--then we cry. That was you and that was me. What the hell happened Annie. Will I ever understand. I try so hard to make sense out of how suddenly life can change. One minute you were here, one breath later you were gone. As I'm learning, sometimes it's simply a case of bad luck with cancer. Your cancer was rare, and the odds of you getting it were tremendously against. But it appears one cell popped out of your bone marrow into your blood stream and it was malignant. The rest is a horrible tale of pain and suffering. I'm doing okay, but still miss and love you. I hope you're resting well my love--Bobby xoxo
Posted by Michelle Lisle on February 27, 2015
Hi my friend Annie,I Have not been on for a long time,I just found out that your hubby Bobby has give my dad a life time membership on this forevermiss,Which touch me so much,Your a thousands miles away but i seem to know you both,I really miss my dad,And my big brother David,Please look out for them Annie has I have so many Questions i would like to ask them,Night Annie and thank you for sending me to your hubby to chat to,Has it wasn't for you i would never of found a mate to talk to,And he miss you so much AnnieXX god bless you xxxxxx
Posted by Bob Harrison on February 15, 2015
Hi Sweetie. It's been a long day today. Still trying to figure out which fork in the road I need to take. Here's a neat story for you. Melissa called me earlier tonight and told me that baby Beaux was laying on her bed while she was washing her face. When she came out of the bathroom he was staring at the corner of the room laughing and smiling, and making a lot of baby talk. Melissa said he was acting like he was talking to an Angel. Wonder where she got that idea? I said no, it was just his "Nanny." We see you everywhere Annie. Your spirit is strong and your star is still bright. I love you, Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on February 3, 2015
Hi Sweetie, having a bad night tonight. Very lonely. Seems my favorite thing to do when I'm feeling out of sorts is visit you here on your memorial. What else can I do? I had know idea just how lonely life could be. I know I've said this many times before, but when does it end--perhaps it never ends. Well, it will when it's my time to come see you. I find so much peace on your memorial, thank God I set this memorial up. Don't know what I would have done without it. And that's why I encourage others to do the same, or at least keep a journal or a diary so they can look back in real time. I love you sweetie, hope you are resting well. Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on January 24, 2015
Hi Sweetie, Not much going on in this part of the woods. I'm back into the not doing too much these days, other than write my blog in honor of you. I've been sharing you with so many people. Their inspired by your story. I published a blog last week, titled, Grief and Dreams. In the first few days it was shared over 700 times nationally. You are slowly being introduced to the world. I love and miss you Annie, Bobby XOXO
Posted by Bob Harrison on January 11, 2015
Hi Sweetie, been awhile, but you're never far from my mind and I just keep on loving you. Annie your star is still shining bright. I joined thecaregiverspace.org and am now one of their two Ambassador's. What's so special about that is, I'm meeting so many people in need that I can actually help. My blog post's are 99% about you and your story. You're inspiring so many. One lady wrote, "I love Annie." Isn't that wonderful. I wish they could have all met you. Wow, sitting here and listening to your music while writing is really hard for me to do. I still miss you so much. I would love to put my arms around you and feel all the love we shared. Annie, I'm always here, loving and missing you. It's been just over 4 years now, and at times it seems like yesterday. I love you, Rest well--"Bobby" XOXO
Posted by Bob Harrison on December 12, 2014
Happy Birthday Sweetie. You would have been 65 years old today--and no doubt full of life and spirit as you always were. It's now been 4 years 1 month and 10 days sense you went away. Sitting here writing to you tonight it not that much different of a feeling than it was when I started this memorial. Yes, I can write to you now without tears running down my face and making a mess of things, but my love for you is as strong as it ever was. And anytime I look to the heavens there is always that chance that I might just see a fleeting star that will remind me of you flying around on your angel wings. I like to think that anyway. I love you Annie xoxoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on November 23, 2014
Hi Sweetie, I've been in California for about 13 days now. Does my heart good to see and spend time with dad. It's amazing how he keeps on going. He is 87 years old, and probably among the last of our great WW11 heroes. He is frail, very weak and losing weight. I take him biscuits, gravy and 2 eggs over easy everyday to put the calories on him and add some protein to his diet. Plus you know biscuits and gravy is amongst his favorite foods. As I sit here listening to your music alone in my bedroom, I'm really missing you. I wish you were here. Folks say everything happens for a reason, but what is the reason. You were so beautiful and healthy, it so difficult to understand, and perhaps I'm not meant to understand. I guess it's true--we never get over grief, we just get through it. Love you darling, Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on November 2, 2014
Hi Sweetie, Four years ago today we said good-bye. I still have trouble wrapping my head around losing you. It's lonely without you. I know, I had 30 months to prepare for your death, but that doesn't help any. They say anticipatory grief, knowing the death is coming helps with the grief, lessens it. What a joke that is. I think it makes it worse. How could that possibly make grieving your loss any less. I've said this many times. The more you love the more you lose which equals a greater grief cycle, and longer. You are not replaceable! I will love you forever. I pray you're resting well, and not working your Angel Wings too hard. I love you Babe, Bobby xoxo
Posted by Doreen Barber on November 2, 2014
Hi Annie, Another year has passed, and your loved and missed more than ever. You will always be in my heart for ever more. I send my love hugs and kisses to heaven to you. God bless my darling sister. Love Dor-Dor xxx
Posted by Bob Harrison on October 25, 2014
Hi Sweetie, Last night was the 2014 Light The Night Walk for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. We attended as a family as much as we could. One day maybe Vicky and her children will be here so we can make it a really big deal. I want to make that happen if I can. Maybe next year. It's that time of year again, the 4th Anniversary of your death will be here in 9 days. I really struggle this time of year. Your passing, Thanksgiving, and then Christmas. You'd think life would be much easier, and although it's not as bad as it was, it's still not easy. Last night was particularly hard on your 13 and 22 year old grandsons. They both shed some tears. It was difficult to see them cry. One minute you're hear loving them, then the next minute you're gone. Your loss has hurt a bunch of us, but I know you would be here if you could. Annie I love and miss you so much, but what can I do. I guess I'll always miss you. Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on October 10, 2014
Hi Sweetie, Two things. Today I started conducting an Estate Sale for an elderly retired dentist and his wife. Working in their home the past week, getting the sale ready has been very enlightening. He is a micro-manager, and likes to be in charge. He really has no concept of how an Estate Sale should be ran to maximize the returns--how much money he gets for the total sale. That's been a challenge for me, but today has come and gone and we did really well. You would have been pleased. As this was a profession we shared for the better part of 25 years, going it alone was a wee bit hard. I missed you, and saw lots of things you would have loved to have purchased for our home. This was not a planned event, as I had previously told him I wasn't interested. But a few weeks later he called me and I agreed to do it for him. It was a long day, and two more to go. But I made some money, my first attempt at working a proper job since you got sick. I think I'm going to stay retired or do something we didn't always share together. Makes me to lonely. I love you. Bobby xoxoxox
Posted by Bob Harrison on September 24, 2014
HI Sweetheart, I had a wonderful cry the other night, when your memorial counter clicked over 60,000 views, my tears just started flowing and I lost it. It was such a bitter sweet moment. When I think of all the folks you've touched with your memorial and story I get overwhelmed with pride for the woman I loved, and who loved me for 39 years. When your counter clicked over the other night, a bit later I posted a short story of you on facebook with a picture of you and me. It got over 70 likes and a slew of comments. People love hearing your story, and I've been sharing you with them almost 4 years now. And still, their touched. I'm so proud of you baby, but I would give everything back and more just to see and hold you. It's just not fair!! I love you, Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on September 13, 2014
Hi Sweetie, This has been a bad week for me Annie. Going through grief for 3-1/2 years was horrible. But now that I'm coming out of grief, I'm starting to realize the magnitude of everything that I've lost, and it's really bringing me down. It's too much Annie. On our own little patch of earth we were living the American Dream, and life was good. Then all of a sudden up pops a cancer that we'd never heard of, and 30 months later you were gone. I still can't believe it. I do all I can to help others and stay busy, but things will never really be okay again. I went and saw Dr. Bryant today, thank God for him. He says it only natural now that I'm looking back and seeing the havoc and destruction the cancer created in my life. Annie I never asked for anything, I just wanted you to live and not have to leave me. Death is so final--I love you to heaven and back--Bobby xoxoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on August 31, 2014
Hi Sweetie, went to a BBq at Melissa's tonight. Van's brother in moving to Wichita with his family. They were there, and seem to be very nice folks. It was nice seeing Melissa enjoying herself around family. It appears her and her sister-in-law are going to be good company for each other. I hope so. Baby Beaux took to his 8 month old cousin really well. He's only 13 months old now, but he was leaning over the front of the little car she was sitting in and giving her kisses. How Precious. Other than that I have a bunch of stuff happening in the world of your book, "Because of Annie," that I will be sharing with you soon. It's a big deal, so as soon as things are finalized I'll let you know what's happening. Love and miss you Annie, some things never change. Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on August 20, 2014
Hi Sweetie, Well we had a meteor shower the other night and I thought for sure I would see your star flying across the sky. I drove out into the country at midnight or a dark desolate road, It was kind of spooky. I stood outside the truck for ages watching the sky for a shooting star, and never saw a thing. Were you taking a nap. I was disappointed, but there will be another time. Your new grandson, Baby Beaux, just turned 12 months old and is now walking. He is so chuffed. You would have loved him, he's such a special little child~~and he had to be to help us through our loss. We miss you every day. Melissa had a hard weekend, she lost your wedding ring. Then she said some really strong prayers and found it Sunday. Amazing. I love you kiddo, sweet dreams. Bobby XOXO
Posted by Bob Harrison on August 9, 2014
Hi Sweetie, The last two weeks have been very busy. There's a company in New York City called "The Caregiver Space" that asked me if they could blog the care giving aspects of your story, Because of Annie. I told them that would be a dream come true. The first blog was 7 Aug 14. Within 24 hours your blog had over 325 likes and 61 shares. Now, that's a big deal. Your star just keeps getting brighter. After it runs for a couple of weeks, their going to add another blog, and just continue on as a series of blogs. You're approaching 60,000 visitors on this site, and by the time they finish the blogs of your story, the numbers will be huge, and who know where the blog is going to take you. Incredible visibility for you. Annie you are touching so many people. I love you darling, and will keep you posted. Love and miss you, Bobby.
Posted by Marcy Bohannon on July 26, 2014
Hey Annie, I talked with Bob a couple days ago and he sounded good. I am thinking about visiting him in late September for a week or so. I remember the good times we had when I came to visit with you and Bob after you got sick. What a great visit we had. I am just sorry that it had to be under those circumstances. I am looking forward to meeting your grandson, Beaux. What a beautiful boy he is. Have you had a chance to visit with my mom? I bet the two of you find a lot to talk about. The Lord really blessed you with a wonderful husband who was so devoted to you when you needed him the most. That is what we call true, unconditional love. None of us knew that caring for you was the beginning of his journey to be an advocate for cancer patients and their families all across the country. God Bless you, Annie
Posted by Bob Harrison on July 26, 2014
Hi Sweetie, you were my Annie. I had some nice dreams of and with you this week. It's been three and 1/2 years and I still dream of you. How good is that? As good as it gets. It just solidifies my love for you, and gives me hope for the future. I know you're coming around for a reason, not quite sure what it is, but I love your nightly visits. Going to bed each night with excited anticipation that you might come pay me a visit is wonderful. Thank you Luv, see you in my dreams. I love you, Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on July 14, 2014
Hi Sweetie, I was just sitting here thinking about you, it's so hard not to relive the events of our last 30 months together. It still takes my breath away at times, and I find it so hard to wrap my head around not being able to see or touch you. People say to me, at least you're alive Bob, am I really. This isn't living, without you it's simply existing. Annie I'm getting tired, all I seem to do is hold onto each day, hoping a change will come. And I'm not sure what that means. Probably nothing without you. I love you Baby, hopefully I'll see you in my dreams. Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on June 30, 2014
Hi Sweetie, your candle is not shinning as bright as it was a few weeks ago. The administrators of forevermissed wanted to give the home page a new look, and that meant taking you and your buddy that was in the picture next to you down. I even miss him. I was surprised as between the two of you, you were splitting 2,500 visitors every 5 to 7 days. I loved all the interaction I received from folks that viewed your memorial, then contacted me through email. Many contacted me through the link on your memorial to your Facebook cancer page and eventually became Facebook friends. I love making friends. I know a lady that is building a memorial now because of what she saw on your memorial, and a lady that just completed one. Now I'm in a dilemma. I don't know whether to continue growing the page, or just keep loving you through tributes. I'll figure it out over time. You'd be surprised at the amount of people that saw the love in your memorial. We need to be proud though, out of over 34,000 memorials you really have the only true memorial on there. The rest are basically obituaries. And that's why you were so popular. But I am thankful for the time you had on the home page. It really help me by keeping me busy. With over a 1,000 views every 5 to 7 days, I kept it up to date as best I could. I love you my darling, I just hope you don't get lost in the crowd out there. Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on June 20, 2014
Hi Sweetie, Missing you. It's been almost 44 months since you went away, and I can remember it as if it were yesterday. What the hell happened? How can 39 years of love be wiped out by something so hateful as cancer. I always thought love conquered all, but as I know now, cancer has a will of it's own. It doesn't care about pain, hurting others, or love. It just pushes them aside. I could better understand if you had a cancer caused by a self-inflicted reason, but you didn't. You were the healthy person that seemed to do everything right. So what does that mean? I guess, no one is exempt. We must love, our love, as much and as ofter as we can. Life turns on a dime. Love you baby, Bobby XOXO
Posted by Bob Harrison on June 10, 2014
Hi Sweetie, On 7 June 2014, I attended the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Man and Woman of the year event. We raised 418,000 to fund the fight for blood cancer. You were so close. In the three years since you passed, some new and promising strategies, chemotherapy's, are now on the market. I auctioned off a signed author copy of your book, Because of Annie. It sold for $1,000.00. The auctioneer also held your book up and asked the crowd if they would donate money in your name to blood cancer starting with 100.00 bids. Hands went up everywhere in the room. Before the bidding was over your book raised another $2,100 dollars. All total, $3,100 was given to blood cancer in your honor. I was a total emotional wreck, the generosity brought tears to my eyes. You may be gone, but will never be forgotten. Love you so much. Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on May 29, 2014
Hi Sweetie, I received an email through your memorial a couple of days ago from a lady that lost the love of her life. She was very emotionally touched by your memorial and story. We couldn't save you Annie, but through your story you will live on as long as I'm on this earth. You are touching and helping so many people. I'm still struggling too. Writing this note takes my breath away in rapid jumps. I have trouble dealing with your loss at times too. Not like it was, but helping others through telling your story keeps me emotionally linked to you, which can be all absorbing at times, but it helps me with my grief. I've now got your playlist of songs that I selected for you playing one after the other~sort of like a short CD. I think the songs are all beautiful, and will hold down the repetition when folks are spending time with you. I love you Annie, and I will not let your death have been in vain. If you and I can save just one person from living the tragic story you were destined to live, you will have made a great contribution to humanity. Having said that, you are already making a great contribution by touching the lives of others. God bless sweetie. Bobby XOXO
Posted by Bob Harrison on May 18, 2014
Hi Sweetie, your story, Because of Annie, has been placed in our local Barnes and Noble at the front of the store under staff recommended books. You took me on a 30 month journey through myltiple myeloma-blood cancer. Since your death I've been taking you on a journey. Your book is incredible, and just another way for me to get your story out there. I want people to know~If you love someone today, try to love them more tomorrow. Life Happens. And it's my way of giving back to the community in your honor. I know you would want that. All proceeds go to cancer and helping others. I love you Annie, and as the song says, Goodbye My Friend. xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on May 8, 2014
Hi Sweetie, I never mentioned this, but last year during my annual physical, my PSA blood count was elevated. My doctor suggested we wait 2 months and do the test over. So two months later I was retested and the results were worse. My doctor wanted to refer me to a urologist, but I convinced him once again to retest in another two months.Well, this time they were even worse. So this past Feb 15th, I went to see the urologist. After doing an ultrasound of the prostate and other tests he came to the conclusion that he had now ruled everything out but cancer. He said my chances of having cancer were 35%. Well, he wanted to schedule a biopsy, but as I was preparing to leave for my 30 day trip to California, I convinced him to wait until I got back. He schedule me in for an appointment on 7 May. I had my blood drawn on 1 May for the appointment. I got my results back the 6th of May, one day before the appointment, which was yesterday.. The results were completely normal. I could not believe it. Apparently I have a guardian Angel looking out for me. :) When I went to the Urologist, he was rather amazed too. But he said we will now go into the watch mode, and retest in 3 months. I lost you to cancer, and watching you suffer was a very painful nightmare. Don't ever want to feel or see that again. And I really don't want to fight such a wretched disease. But if I ever have too, I just hope I can fight it with the grace and courage that you did. I love you Annie. xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on May 4, 2014
Hi Sweetie. I love you Annie. It's been another tough week. I'm still having nightmares, but no matter how many nightmares I have, they can never take away the beautiful memories we made over the 30 months you were fighting cancer. As your caregiver husband we got to hang out 24/7 and never had an argument. We just fell deeper and deeper in love. I saw your pain Annie, and along with seeing you laugh through your pain and tears still haunts me. How did you do that with such grace? You know, the doctors and nurses had great difficulty wrapping their heads around your survival on a daily basis. You defied the odds so many times. Your infectious disease control doctor told me after you got off the ventilator from fighting double pneumonia, swine flu and sepsis, the odds of you surviving that event were incalculable, but you left ICU with a smile on your face two weeks later. After that event was over, I remember him walking up to you and me at your bedside, and telling us he'd just been nominated to be the assistant director of the CDC. That put his thoughts on your survival in perspective. You were a tough cookie Annie and I just hope when my time comes I can display as much grace as you did. Sweep well my love. Bobby xo
Posted by Bob Harrison on April 22, 2014
Hi Sweetie: I read an article today from a lady that was diagnosed with multiple myeloma almost a month after you. She started her chemo the same time as you, and yes you both had the same chemo. She's here to tell her story because she had an early diagnosis. You're not here because your general practitioners didn't understand or ignored the warning signs over the year and a half when you were always unwell. Despite all the unstable blood draws, the anemia, bruising easily, fatigue, they were inclined to believe it was in your head. Annie. I'm so hurt by such a near miss. One trip to the cancer center 6 months earlier would have made all the difference in the world. This day and age nobody should be diagnosed with end stage cancer when all the symptoms are presenting themselves. It's not right. You never had a chance Annie. Yet, it's still happening to many, and with different cancers as well. I'm so sorry baby, I didn't know. All those nights I massaged your painful legs until you went to sleep, that triggered many events to the doctors. The GP's said it was osteoporosis, the osteoporosis doctor said he could see it, but it wasn't bad enough to cause pain. It went on and on. Then you broke four ribs over four months for no apparent reasons. But once again, it was diagnosed as osteoporosis. The cancer center knew at the time that multiple myeloma can be misdiagnosed as Osteoporosis, but you were never sent to the cancer center. Obviously the article I read today triggered many emotions in me, at what might have been if you would have been cared for properly by your GP's. I love and miss you, Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on April 15, 2014
Hi Sweetie, Been home from my vacation a couple of weeks now. I'm lonely, but okay. Baby Beaux is starting to say a few words now. The main word he says is, believe it or not, Hannah. He says Da-da & Ma-ma too, but Hanna is a big word. She brain washes him. The day after I got back from my trip on the 2nd, I went down to see him. After 30 days I was afraid he wouldn't know me. But he did. When his momma turned the corner with him in her arms he got really shy. Then he reached out to me and gave me a snuggle hug that was just priceless. He had tears in his eyes. That's not bad for a 10 month old. And, we got it all recorded and on facebook. I wish you were here to share in his precious little life. You were such a stabilizing force for all the grand kids~with a love second to none. I love you Annie, Bobby xoxo
Posted by Bob Harrison on April 6, 2014
Hi Sweetie, you really do have a long reach. A couple of months ago a lady from Rome got in touch with me, needing to share her recent loss of her husband with me. We're now friends, and although she is still struggling, Because of you Annie, I'm able to offer her help and guidance. I could never measure my grief over losing you, but other than ending my life, I can't imagine it could have been any worse. I kept notes in order to track my grief, and ended up with more knowledge on the subject than I could ever have imagined. Now I have the knowledge and understanding to help others, and I do help many. Anyway, in conversation I told her that you had always wanted to visit the Sistine Chapel. Well, guess what. I'm gonna make that trip for you, and my friend is going to be my guide. I've toured London & Amsterdam, now I shall tour Rome. I wish you could go with me. But I suspect in some way you've met her Paul, and the two of you put her in contact with me. Maybe through my eyes you'll be able to see the chapel too. I hope so. My friend found me through this memorial. Love you Annie, Bobby xo

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