It Had to End Sometime

Well dear friends, I have decided that tonight will be the last posting on Jane's blog. I conclude this entry on her behalf, with no small amount of sorrow.

All things must pass, as it is said. As I read back through the past 17 months of Jane's blog, I have been reminded of the bravery, hope, faith, and optimism that Jane lived each and every day. She never faltered, never wavered, during her battle with that terrible disease.

I am in the process of compiling posts from both Jane's and my blog, and will eventually publish a book using My Publisher, and will make it available to those who would like to have a reminder of our journey together. I have created a photo book of slides from Jane's memorial service that you can see online, and if you're interested, even purchase a copy for yourselves.

In the meantime, Doug's Blog is still active, and will remain so as long as I have motivation to continue writing. I invite you to join in on my solo flight into uncharted territory as I begin to learn how to live life without my best friend.

We are planning to have a burial service at the Oaklawn Cemetery in Corvallis on Friday, June 27th at 1:00pm. Anyone who is interested in participating may join us at that time. Please be sure to check Doug's Blog, just in case something changes between now and then.

Thank you, everyone, for your faithful participation in reading, and commenting on this blog.

And as I close for Jane, I believe she would say not, "Goodbye" but rather, "See you later."

Faith of a Child

These days, I keep my blood pressure cuff and stethoscope on the bed next to Jane for taking her vitals signs several times a day. This evening, our granddaughter Lily came up and sat on the bed at Jane's feet, and put the stethoscope around her neck.

Then Lily looked at grandma and said, "grandma, can I . . . can I . . . can I . . . fix you?" Jane's eyes welled up with tears, as she marveled at the complete childlike faith of this little girl.

Shortly thereafter, I took Brent, Shelly and Lily back to the hotel again, and this time as I started to drive away, it hit me. Soon this week, we'll be saying goodbye to them as they return to Michigan, and Jane will be saying goodbye to them for good.

Just then, that invisible hand reached out and grabbed me by the throat again, trying to keep me from swallowing, squeezing the very water from my eyes. After a little while, the hand releases its grip, and I return to "normal."

So now, we're settled in for the night; hoping and praying that she gets a full night's sleep; resting in the assurance that if a child can have that kind of faith, maybe we can too.