Our Last Normal Week

January 2023 - near Las Cruces, NM

Last Thursday, I traveled to Las Cruces, New Mexico, to visit my oldest daughter - our first visit since she returned home after Sami passed away in August. I was anxious to see her - and we had a great time! But as I prepared for my trip last week - as everything I did made me sad - I realized that this trip would also be difficult. I was returning to Las Cruces for the first time since Sami and I visited in late January 2023. Our last normal week.

In some ways, last January seems like a lifetime ago; in other ways, it feels like yesterday. The uncertainty we felt when Sami’s symptoms first appeared during our drive home from Las Cruces turned into anxiety when a CT scan showed a “mass” on her brain (just three days after we got home). And only 197 days after that second trip to the emergency room in late January, Sami died from glioblastoma.

I find that I can’t help but relive these last 11 months. Reliving the end of January is especially difficult - we had such a wonderful time in New Mexico, but our lives changed in an instant when we got home. We went from planning for lambing season in late February, and for a trip to see our youngest daughter compete in logging sports in April, to scheduling one (and then another) brain surgery. We went from going back to work after a wonderful trip to going to the hospital.

Sleeping in Lara’s guest bedroom - where Sami and I had slept just 11 months before - wasn’t as difficult emotionally as I thought it might be. The old queen bed, with a trough in the middle, forced Sami and I to sleep close (which we both laughed about - and enjoyed); having the bed entirely to myself wasn’t as hard as I expected.

But I did find myself thinking about Sami’s final months. I awoke in the middle of the night several times, reliving our lengthy stay in San Francisco in June. One night, I dreamed that Sami called my name - I awoke before I learned what she wanted to tell me. I found myself stressing about Sami’s Celebration of Life just before Christmas - would we have enough food? Would our friends have fun? I keep trying to remind myself that we’re celebrating Sami’s life, not throwing a party. But even with the help of my family and of so many of our friends, I’m stressed.

And so I feel entirely wrung out at the moment. The sadness I felt last week has turned to numbness yesterday as I traveled home from New Mexico. I’m looking forward to having both of the girls here by early next week. I look forward to remembering Sami as we decorate the house for Christmas. I look forward to taking some extended time away from work - to simply being with my kids and remembering my wife. I look forward to seeing so many friends and family on December 23.

As I think about our trip to Las Cruces last January, I guess I’m amazed at how naive we were. We enjoyed each other’s company, thinking we’d continue to enjoy traveling together for years to come. We made plans for future trips. We talked about what we both hoped to do when we retired (Sami was a better planner than I - she would have been able to retire long before me). We talked about what we planned to do later in 2023. 

Over the years, I have had several border collies that needed to be retired (for various reasons). In each case, I knew when I was working with them for the last time (and savored the moment). I suppose part of why I seem to relive the last 11 months is that I’m searching for lessons. I’m realizing that I couldn’t possibly know the last time Sami and I would do things together - like travel to see our daughters, or share a quiet moment together. I’m wondering, what did I learn about dying (and more importantly, about living)? I don’t know yet - I hope that someday, I will understand a bit of what we went through - even if I never understand why.