Annie and I shared a love and passion for Antiques. I believe every marriage needs an entity other than love, that helps bind the marriage when things aren't always good. In this picture she had recently gone to England and purchased boxes of small Antiques, and shipped them home.  She was going through her boxes and showing me all her little treasures.  She was a master at her craft, and well know in the local community and industry, as being very clever, with a keen eye for sorting through the junk and finding the treasures. I really loved being a part of her life, there was never a dull moment. If we drove out of town to visit family or friends, she always had to stop in and check out any shop that might just contain that special little jewel. What fun we had!  Now I am blessed with many beautiful memories. Keep smiling Annie! :)

One of the biggest challenges I faced after Annie passed, was that deep gut felt pain with the feeling I was so alone. It will seem that way for awhile. Your loss is so great that nothing seems to matter. Well, I am that person.  I went through all the emotions, being blindsided many times, as there were no instructions, and a lot of grief traps to fall into. I was very sick, and I knew it. I was unable to pull myself out of that deep, dark, bottomless pit, called Grief. It doesn't have to be that way. Yes, it will be difficult for quite some time, it took me two years.  There are so many others out there in your situation~alone and lost. I'm sure there is grief support groups in your area. Seek them out, "tell your story of your loved one." Hold your chin up and head high.  Be proud, and share! And then there is me. I'm always available via email  through Annie's memorial.  I will always respond. I certainly know and understand what it takes to survive. Writing this memorial was a major grief buster for me. I shared Annie with the world.  I'm here for you if you need me. I will do all that I can to include helping you find a support group in your area. Note:  When Annie died I thought it was the end of my story.  Two years later I'm still writing.  Although it may seem like it is, "this is not the end of your story." Anything other than an eventual positive outcome is not an option. "Stay strong."

The lady on your left facing you is Beverly. On the right is "My Annie." Beverly, a stranger,  came into Annie's life at approximately 10:10 PM, Aug 15, 2008. Annie had just been admitted to the cancer ward in a coma. Her condition was critical, with no expectations of her surviving the night.  After a powerful prayer from Beverly, Annie came back to us the next day. Annie was an atheist, but after coming out of the darkness, she had a story to tell.  She said she could feel herself being pulled back by a voice saying a prayer. She spoke of the darkness, and said she never wanted to go back there again.  She never did.  Beverly was what I call an earthly Angel.  A very spiritually powerful lady that loves to laugh. For the next 28 months this sort of event, although more difficult, was replicated several times, and Beverly was always navigating Annie to the light and away from the darkness.  What I saw over the 28 month period, all the miracles, or what some would call coincidences, was awe inspiring.  Annie survived the unsurvivable a few times. Annie never took pity on herself, she did become a Christian, and died with a smile on her face and love in heart.  As I see it, I now have two angels watching over me. Note: What makes this story unique~Annie's body was ravaged by cancer when she was diagnosed, with a life expectancy of 3 weeks. In this post she had survived 7 weeks. Her 30 month journey was about miracles or coincidences. You'd have to be the judge of that. Medical science had no explanation for why she survived so long. The scientists were following her case~

This was taken in Orford, England, in the late 1990's.  Annie was sitting on a cannon used to repel the Roman invasion, many centuries ago.  The picture shows a part of the Orford Castle, still intact today. Annie had a beautiful spontaneous laugh, and despite her battle with a raging cancer, she had it until the end.  I'm so thankful and blessed to have shared so much of my life with her. She was very easy to love, and lived her life with a burning passion in all that she did. I was a very fortunate man, and will do all I can to share her story and life with others.

To you my friend.  If your reading this page, your searching for something.  Although we will never get a letter from our lost loved one, we can pretend.  This post is what I believe to be the voice of our loved one. Your going to hurt, maybe shed a thousand tears, but through it all you will one day find strength and wisdom in your loss. In the beginning there will be more questions than answers.  As we fight through our tears and grief, over time we answer many of the questions and in doing so gain strength and understanding from the knowledge we gained.  It's at that point that our grief starts to subside, and we know that our loved one would not want us to be sad. It took almost 24 months for me to get to this point, and when I started thinking clearly, one of the questions I'd neglected to ask myself was~"what would Annie want for me." I know this, it certainly would not have been, what at the time seemed like endless pain and suffering.  So ask the questions and search for the answers. You'll find the answer your looking for over time, and in the process start to heal.  I wish you well!

This is a wish that I think most of us would share. We'll relive this wish over and over in our minds until our memory fades. Losing a loved one is tough, and sometimes brings us to our knees.  But life goes on, we survive, and in my case start to thrive over time. I live for and through Annie. I honor our love and all it stood for. She was my wife and the love of my life for 39 years. I shall never forget her, and continue to live my life in a way that would make her proud and not "sad." The hardest part of accepting my loss was that it is absolute and final. There is no going back, or a do over.  But, "I still wish."

Lesley came out to visit Annie in Oct 2010.  These were bad times, and while she was there Annie had a spontanous bleed from the ear, nose and mouth.  We spent a couple of days with her in the ICU, but somehow she managed to survive, and lived another 10.  Once again, we shook off the impending doom and gloom, just making each day as good as we possibly could for Annie. Looking back, it was really difficult being a caregiver for someone you love so much, and watching your loved one die a little more each day. It might not have been noticeable, but from the day of her prognosis she was dying a slow death and nothing could stop it.  Multiple myeloma is a very deadly cancer, and takes on a life of it's own trying to swallow up the patient and family members.  I fought back, and learned to control the cancer and not let it control Annie and me. The end result was the same, but the quality of life through understanding the disease can't be underestimated. 

In Sept 2008, Shirley and her husband Dillard drove out from Virginia to visit with Annie.  Annie was so excited they were coming, and made the most of the few days they were there.  I think all we did was eat, laugh and love while they were there. It was a wonderful weekend for Annie and really elevated her spirits. 

This picture was taken in late October, 7 to 10 days before she passed.  Annie's platelets were critically low at the time, and she was receiving transfusions on a daily basis.  On this day, after the transfusion her platelet count jumped from 1,000 to 7,000.  She was so happy, There was high five's all over the center, including the nurses.  Sadly, I knew this raise in the count was only temporarily as her bone marrow was so compromised with cancer, she wasn't putting out any natural platelets.  The next day they were back down to 1,000.  But, the picture of her sitting in the car getting a kiss from me as we left the infusion center speaks for itself.  For that moment in time we were thankful and at peace. 

This March 2009 picture depicts the month prior to her high dose chemotherapy and stem cell transplant.  Annie had long hair;  In this picture you can see where it was cropped.  Melissa was cutting a little off every few days in preparation to the chemo which would surely take her hair.  She was also pushing her wheel chair around our living space which was an 81 foot walk.  She made sure she took that walk when she could. 

In this picture Annie was having a play date with our young grand kids, London and Gracie.  The grand kids were sad that their nanny wasn't going to be around long term, and due to her immunity issues couldn't be around them too often.  However, when they were, she made the most of it.  They were allways laughing and cutting up.  It would be hard for me to describe just how much love those young children had for their nanny, and the love she gave them.  Tough times, but some beautiful memories.

This picture was taken in late April 2010, shortly after her stem cell transplant.  At that time Annie's condition was critical do to a platelet count holding steady at 1,000, and a white cell count of 0.05.  Platelets are the body's blood clotting mechanism. If platelets stay that low, it only takes a minute, hour, or a few days for a spontaneous bleed to start, resulting in death.  Her white count was so low that any germ in the area could infect her causing catastrophic results. With no immunity, pneumonia is always lurking and the most common cause of death in myeloma patients.  Take a good look at her.  So much poise for a person in such a precarious situation.Annie was a tenacious fighter, kept a positive attitude and had a strong will to live.   

Melissa and her momma, June 2010.  The day before Annie died she looked at Melissa and said; "Remember Melissa, you were always my Peace."  That was a real emotional moment for both Melissa and me. One simple statement gave Melissa clarity to her life, and the role she played in her mommas. What a precious gift she gave her daughter. 

This picture of Annie and her Sister Lesley was taken about 7 to 10 days before Annie's death.  It was really sad times for us all, as we could see her slipping away a little more each day.  I knew her time on this earth was about up, but I couldn't predict the day.  Only the book of life held that answer, and it was not going to reveal it's secret.  As we did so many days before, we didn't dwell on the negative, instead we treat every day if it were her last, and just got on with living.  We had no other choice, but to stay strong and keep her mind on living~not dying. All through her struggle with cancer, I always made sure each day was about her.  No time to be selfish.  I really adored Annie. 

This was taken in April, 2009.  Annie had just completed two days of intense high dose chemotherapy, in preparation for her stem cell transplant.  She was feeling very poorly.  This sort of chemo is designed to take a person on the "walk of death," so to speak.  It kills all the cancerous cells, but not being able to identify the good cells from the bad, it kills off all cells in ones body.  It leaves the patient very anemic, tired, and at high risk of getting an infection or internal bleeding. Ninety-seven percent of transplant patients survive this chemotherapy, and go on to get a transplant and hope for a longer remission. 

In this picture Annie was in Los Angeles, having a glass of wine. Specifically the thing I asked her not to do as she was on a considerable amount of morphine. When I saw the picture and scolded her she said, "Bobby I know I don't have much time left, please don't be angry with me for breaking the rules."  That brought tears to my eyes, How could I be angry as she was actually on death row, but hadn't done anything wrong. 

Brittany always said her Nanny gave the best hugs.  She's now 23 years old and still feels the same way. 

Annie was so much fun. This picture was taken at Eglin, AFB, Florida in 1975.  Some evenings we would go down to the ocean with our flashlights and little nets, then wade out into the water using the flashlights to look for crabs.  We usually netted enough to come home, boil and clean them, and have a nice meal with a glass of wine. Of course we usually had a bit more to drink than we needed, but that's what many young people in love do. Those were usually good nights, and created special memories. 

Annie was a "funny" lady.  This picture was taken towards the end of 2008.  Only a few months earlier her right femur snapped off at the hip, taking part of the hip with it.  Her left femur was fractured too, but didn't break off.  She was told to use her wheel chair and not walk on her legs any more than she had too. Here she was standing on her left leg, and holding her right left up just clowning around. 

This beautiful bouquet of Daffodill's was place on Annie's memorial by a perfect stranger.  I don't know by who, but to the person, I give a heartfelt  thank you.. 

What can I say about Annie that I haven't already said.  How about, she did everything right. Always fixed healthy meals, exercised, took wonderful care of her body. Always drank six to eight glasses of water a day, including healthy juices and pieces of fruit.  Why did she get cancer!  The answer is; no one really knows, but one tiny cell in her body went bad and became malignant. It started dividing and spreading at a rapid rate, eventually crowding out and killing her good cells. The cell was so small that thousands of them will fit on the head of a small needle. That's a simpiflied answer, but basically how it happens.  It all started in her bone marrow.  She never had a chance. 

Yet another emotion that I experienced, and you probably will too.  "Wouldn't it be nice if we could just pick up the phone and make that call; "just one last time."  What would you say, maybe "I love you."  Or would you talk about your profound sadness over your loss, knowing that it probably would upset your lost loved one. I know I would have said both of those as well as talk about the kids and grand kids. Next time your sad, pick up the phone and make that call.  Say all the things you wanted to say but never got a chance to.  It's ok, and will help you with the grieving process, I sat and talked to Annie everyday for months.  I know it helped me, because I cried many tears and unlocked the emotions in my body and let them flow.  Remember; we grieve, which is part of the process of releasing our stress over our loss.  

This post depicts such a natural emotion of grief that will surely visit everyone in grief at one time or another.  Sometimes I cried myself to sleep, and sometimes I just shed a few tears.  But every night when my head hit the pillow, Annie was always on my mind, and in my thoughts and prayers.  Twenty-seven months later the tears are waining, but the thought of Annie is always there.  I'm of the understanding that grief never goes away, and is always lurking in the background. But, it is so much easier now, and I turn my thoughts to the light, when thinking of Annie.  The darkness is now gone.  In time, you will do that too. 

One of the most difficult conversations we may ever have is speaking to a person that has lost a loved one.  Even though I felt my life ended when I lost Annie some 27 months ago, I now know it didn't.  When people spoke to me I could hear the awkwardness in their voices.  It's a tough subject, and difficult to reason with a person like me that was unreasonable at the time. This post captures the essence of anything I might say to you if we were sitting side by side talking about the loved one you just lost. I was a very sick person, but please believe me, if given the time, this post will be true to you too. 

This picture was taken in 1978 while we were stationed at RAF Chicksands in England.  That was a good 3 1/2 year assignment as the base was small with about 900 GI's.  Very quiet, just the way we liked it.  It was located in Bedfordshire, England, and not to far of a drive to the Queen's summer home at Sandringham, which we visited a few times.  From there we also visited Ann Hathaway's Cottage, and just across the road from that was the home of William Shakespeare.  Beautiful country with strong traditions.  I was blessed to marry Annie, one of the Queen's subjects. 

In 1989 while stationed at RAF Bentwaters I received an assignment to McConnell, AFB, Ks.  This picture reflects the last few days we were in England.  All our household goods had already been shipped and we were using loaner furniture.  It was sort of like camping out.  We slept on a mattress on the floor and enjoyed every minute. Our girls were teenagers and already back in the USA with family.  Kind of like a second honeymoon. 

Andre is an English lad and the son of Annie's sister Wendy who died at a young age of cancer in 2001.  During Annie's battle with cancer Andre called her from England every three or four days to check on her.  After his mum died he called her almost everyday from England as she and I were his support system. Annie's death was a nightmare for him, as she was like a mum to him after Wendy passed. But, he and I get along wonderfully, and now have each other as support mechanisms.  When he comes here or I go there, despite our age difference, we love to hang out together and always have a good time. 

Annie and her sister Tracy having a laugh on our car.  She was at our house on holiday with her mum, which is Annie's mum too.  While they were there, Tracy and Mum were laying out in the yard sunbathing by our home when the 12:00 noon sirens went off on the Air Force Base PA system.  Annie ran out the back door around where they were sunbathing while yelling "quick run, we're under a nuclear attack." It was so funny, Mum and Tracey were running in circles yelling "What do we do." Annie started laughing and they started chasing her.  Fun day! 

Left to Right: Wendy, Annie, and Tracy were three beautiful sisters and like like three peas in a pod. They loved a good laugh. Three compassionate, caring and loving sisters; "Gone too Soon," from Cancer.

We were traveling in Colorado when this picture was taken.  We we're near the "Garden of the Gods." Appropriate for our love for each other. 

Annie and Victoria taken in Dec, 2008.  I can see the love in this picture.

Annie with our first grandchild, Brittany.  She's now 23 years old.

This picture was taken in Hawaii a few short years befire Annie was diagnosed with cancer.  She was with her sister's Lesle, Shirley, and Jackie.  Annie loved Hawaii, and would of loved to have lived there. 

This picture was taken later on in her cancer, early summer Sept 2010.  She was still in her partial remission, but always sick.  She would lay on her hospital bed with  my Yankee cap on and say, "Bobby, the Yankees are playing. That was her way of asking me to come sit in the wheelchair by her bed and watch some of the game and spend some time with her. Annie had little or no immunity most of the time, so every available moment I had, I'd spend cleaning and disinfecting our living area, to include the kitchen and bathroom.  

This picture is oversimplifying how it was in our home.  Hospital bed in the middle of our living room, portable potty, a breathing apparatus you can't see and then the Iv pole.  It was how we lived for 30 months.  Always in fear of what was coming our way next.  Annie lived a very fluid life with cancer; we were always battling, something. We spent about 150 days in the hospital as well.  But if given the chance I would gladly do it all over again; in fact I would consider it a blessing. 

This picture was taken during Christmas season 1997.  Annie was sitting near the fireplace looking at the large cardboard box.  From the look on her face she was suspecting that the special gift she wanted was in there.  I didn't say it was or wasn't in there. Christmas Day came, the box was empty, and our marriage survived.  lol  But, she did get what he wanted. 

This is one of my favorite pictures of Annie and me. Taken in Crescent City, California. She was only a couple of months from delivering "Baby Melissa." Isn't she beautiful.  Her smile would light up a room.  When this picture was taken I'd been out of the Air Force just over a year. We were taking a break from reality, and living "through the eyes of a Hippie." Less than one year later we took our masks off and I reenlisted back in the USAF, and served another 20 years, with Annie by my side. 

This stairway represents everything that is good. Even to a non believer, I'm sure thay as well as I, would climb many stairs to see our lovedone(s) again.  What a beautiful journey that would be. 

This picture of Annie was taken in England at our daughter Victoria's wedding. Setting was an 18th Century Chruch in Framlingham.  Yes it gets foggy in England.  Doesn't she look pretty.

When Annie was on the ventilator in intensive care, her arms were tied to the bed rails to keep her from pulling the tube out of her throat.  Her condition had been critical for three days.  Miraculously on the 4th day she started breathing on her own again, just slightly, but breathing. I instinctively knew, once again, she was going to survive an event that was considered unsurvivable. She started shaking her hands making an effort to pull them away from the bed rails.  With the large tube down her throat she was speechless, but I knew she wanted something.  So I asked her if she would like to write a note.  She nodded her head up and down meaning yes. I ran to the nurses station and retrieved a pen and paper.  I then loosened her hands and she started scribbling stuff that wasn't readable. Eventually she wrote "Am I going to be okay."  I looked at her with a big smile and in a soft voice said "I think your going to be just fine Annie."  Then she wrote the note, "Bobby, I love you."   "Priceless Memory."

Jan 12th, 2013, I received an email from SmartMemorials.com telling me they had looked at thousands of online memorials, trying to find one that gave them the ultimate experience in memorial viewing. They chose Annie's.  Last week, 23 Jan 2013,  I was gifted these two porcelain plaques and a memory card from SmartMemorials.com.  The idea behind these plaques is very innovative. I can scan either plaque or the memory card with my smart phone and see her memorial in seconds. I like that, as it cuts through the chase of locating her.  I may be one of the few or one of the many; but I visit with Annie everyday, even if only for a couple of minutes. It's been 27 months since Annie passed, and I still get that special peace each time I visit her.  Yes, the grief is waining, but my love for her will last until my mamory fades.  To each and everyone of you that read this story, "I wish you well." If your grieving, hang in there, I thought I was not going to make it, but here I am, still telling her story.

Annie was beautiful; this picture was taken about half way through her 30 month journey.  We decided to go to the World Market for a little shopping.  Her body had already been ravaged by the out of control cancer, and six months of high doses of chemo, 21 days on and 7 off.  And of course there was all the broken bones she suffered. 

My message here is simple; don't ever give up.  Annie fought until the end.  The rewards for us both were beyond comprehension.  Our love blossomed a little more each and every day, until we became one. 

It was an incredible journey, we both experienced about every emotion one can imagine. If given the choice I would care for Annie the rest of my days without complaint.  I really loved her in a meaningful way!! Love you sweetie, Bobby xoxoxo

Until we meet again "My Love"  This picture captures the essence of love, and the one that was left behind.  Love you Annie, Bobby  xoxoxoxo

This picture was taken at a friends home in the fall of 2009. Annie was indeed unique, in that, no matter how bad the situation was, and knowing she would not survive this cancer, she always had a smile for everyone she met.  There were no pity parties for her.  She loved life and lived it to it's fullist as best she could until the end.  Beautiful English Lady!

Annie went to heaven 2 years ago today.  A True Love Story Never Ends!  I was gifted with Annie back in 1971 and had the privilege of sharing two thirds of my life with her. When Annie got the cancer, we immediately started living minute by minute, hour by hour for 30 months.  Annie's prognosis was, "Why is she still alive." Her battle was long and her struggle difficult, but allowed our love to elevate to a level that is beyond the comprehension of most folks, and quite frankly I hope you never experience such love, it is built on tragedy and sorrow for your loved one. It allows one to wake up each morning wondering what can I do for her today to make it better. My life became insignificant, leaving my sole purpose of existence to care for Annie. I miss her terribly!!  My hopes are that one day I may see her again.  I believe.

This picture was taken at the infusion center about two weeks before Annie passed.  The picture is of Annie, our daughter Melissa, and me.  At that point we were just loving and taking care of her.  Her fate was already sealed. It was just a matter of time.  I look at these pictures and wonder; what must she have been thinking?  She knew her condition was critical, but managed to expressed so much love, grace, and kept her head held high to the end.  By this time, Annie had unlocked the Mystery of Life After Death, but never talked about where she was or wasn't going.  I can only say, in her last hours she was not fearful, stressed, or worried. During her initial comfort care hours, she'd wake up, trying to laugh, talk, and had a smile on her face. I'm still very sad, but thankful she was my wife and life for so many years, and died leaving me with a warm heart, knowing she wasn't suffering.  (For those of you that don't know, comfort care is normally done by hospice, and  is a person's final journey before they pass over.  Melissa did the comfort care for her momma.  Approximately 26 hours after the start time, Annie was gone.) Reason for comfort care was severe internal bleeding, with the bloody mucus from her lungs indicating that they were filling with blood.  Her throat was swelling shut, and she had labored breathing. Comfort care slows that process down and allows your loved one to relax, and the breathing to calm. The death of a loved one is very personal.  That's why I chose to let my daughter care for her momma at the end. We didn't use hospice.  If your interested in the legality of Melissa doing comfort care at my direction, it's legal, but the police will do an investigation.  For more information on family comfort care you can email me through this site.  I always respond promptly to the emails I get.   

The note on this picture was put there by Annie's sister Lesley.  Annie was certainally an inspirational person.  Many people loved her!

This photo was put on the site by my sister.  Its of Annie sunbathing at Ft Walton Beach in Florida when we were stationed at Eglin Air Force Base in 1975.  She loved Florida, the beautiful beeches and white sands.  Ironically, Annie was afraid of water and didn't swim.  As a child in England she swam at what they called the "swimming bars," but after witnessing a young child accidentally fall into a stream and drown, she became fearful. 

I Thought This Would Help......It Helped Me When I Lost My Mama....The Pain Never Goes Away, But It Does Get Lighter And Easier To Handle...God Bless...

When we think of cancer we usually focus on the bad times and how difficult it was for our loved one.  That's true, but as the grief process starts to regress we start seeing the things that in some way made our journey special. Here's one of them.

At this point in our journey Annie had been seriously I'll for 20 months.  She weighed about 80 pounds, and according to the doctors we needed to start having the conversation about hospice as she was losing more ground every day. She was lying in her hospital bed, very frail and could barely move.  Annie still had some surprises in store for us.

Jan 20th, 2010:  "Bob, would you come over here for a moment."  I said, yes dear, "what do you need."  She said, "are you stupid."  I just stared at her and said, "I don't think so."  She said, "How much are we paying for this apartment?"  I told her to look around at all the equipment, the IV's in her arms.  I told her this wasn't an apartment, but rather a hospital room.  I immediately recognized the confusion in her eyes and changed my thought process.  When she got confused, I learned to go with the flow as I didn't want her to feel that way.  So I said, probably 2 thousand dollars or more a day.  She said, "well then you must be stupid."  Have you looked outside our windows?  For that kind of money, where is the beach or at least a swimming pool.  Priceless! I really couldn't argue that point.  She said she wanted an apartment across the hallway, where all the folks were laughing and having fun. That was the nurses station. I decided to let her take charge. I asked her if she wanted me to go sort it out, and get our apartment changed to across the hallway. She just shook her head up and down for yes.  I told her I would be back in a minute, and left the room.  I raced around the hallway and found her nurse.  I told her about the conversation I just had with Annie and needed some help.  She started belly laughing and said not to worry, it's only the pain medication. I said, "it's not funny, you're not living with her."  She said okay, go back to the room and I'l be down with her anxiety medication soon.  I told her I was not going back to Annie's room until the medication was administered.  So she went to her medication closet and got the medication.  Went over and gave Annie an injection in her Iv.  I came in a couple minutes later and Annie was sleeping.  When she woke up, it as if the conversation never happened.  What an hour that was.

We found out a couple days later that Annie was allergic to the pain medication she was on. It was causing her to become very agitated at times, and confused.

Annie survived 9 more months, and we were able to talk about these events, and all she could do was laugh and say, "wasn't I naughty."  Make no mistake, cancer is evil, but we probably have more good times then we realize.  As our grief regresses, the good overcomes the bad.  At least 20 months later, that seems to be the case for me.  By the way, her room was $8,000 per day.  If I had of said that, imagine all the things she could have called me.  Annie was a character, so full of love and spirit.  I adored her!