For 49 years, I was fortunate to welcome the New Year with my beloved husband, Ira Z”L (1954-2023). In the early years, we celebrated quietly at home. Later on, we would travel during winter break or enjoy the family tradition of skiing at Keystone Resort on New Year’s Day.
This year, I am alone in my Colorado mountain home. Tomorrow, I will ski on New Year’s Day without my b’shert (my soulmate). My youngest son, Jordan, will drive up from Denver for the morning to join me. If for some reason he cannot come, I will manage on my own. This season, I have already skied a few times by myself and last week with my son, Aaron.
The majestic beauty of the Rocky Mountains offsets a small percentage of the pervasive sadness that permeates my soul. Distractions cannot totally stop the tsunami of emotions that go hand in hand with grief and anticipatory grief. Prior to Ira’s passing, I endured three years of anticipatory grief while Ira courageously battled glioblastoma. His perseverance was impressive, especially after the recurrence of an inoperable tumor in January 2023 that significantly compromised his ability to walk.
Throughout his terminal cancer journey, I remained by his side until he gasped his last breath on July 21. With a limited amount of science and medical background, I researched a plethora of resources so that I could piece together a plan to help him beat the odds. The brain tumor, along with the ramifications of his 2010 traumatic brain injury, stifled Ira’s desire to learn more about his terminal brain cancer. I shared some of my research on my For Glio page.
Ira relied on me to figure out our next steps and to be his care partner. After decades of a loving marriage, he trusted me. It was important to locate and implement alternative treatments that complemented the traditional standard of care treatments offered by his medical team and second opinion doctors. I had to find ways to enrich our lives so we could keep moving and live our lives without regrets.
Unlike many terminal cancer patients who simply give up, Ira maintained a positive mindset that included his favorite motto–Keep Moving and Live Without Regrets. His positivity was just one of many things that helped him live longer than most people diagnosed with glioblastoma. Read More