Romey1973

A few years ago I wrote a journal entry here about my wife and her battle with cancer.  I received emails and  messages from lots of folks expressing the fact that they took inspiration from what I wrote.  People wanted to know how she was doing.  People were inspired by my obvious love for this woman and my pride in her brave struggle against this terrible disease. The truth is very rarely as beautiful as the things we like to write down. I remember how fragile she seemed as the chemo treatments coursed their way through her body. I remember hiding away when her hair started falling out so she wouldn't see the tears I could no longer figh

In the valley lay the mist… And in the mist was she. Tears were spilt and voices raised As the moans of grief and wails Of the desperate drift like smoke. Smell of Earth and green leaves Wet with dew open in a Warm embrace, greeting their son. "Do you hear, o child?  The song And tale are spoken here!  Oh Father In Heaven hear this tale and hide Us away from your stare!" Waiting in the valley was the mist… And in the mist was she. Through the dark of morning Come away and don't look back. Forge ahead and follow the water Down into the deep, to the old places of the world. Weep and wail mothers and pace The floor,

My wife was born October 14, 1972. As a child her body betrayed her.  Her back bent in a way that would, the doctors told her mother, grow progressively worse.  Her nerve endings would develop tumors that, though benign, could cause her some difficulty later on in life as they may begin to grow uncontrollably.  Surgery was going to be necessary to correct the immediate problems, and further surgery would be likely down the road.  The knife would know her flesh, and metal would be bound to her bones. The child that would one day become my wife bared her teeth and met this enemy head on.  Her mother wept at her side.  She comforted her mother