Today my mom and my sister-in-law, Mary are getting away.  We  have been planning this since last July.  By the time anyone else probably reads this, we will be on our way to Miami, then tomorrow take 5 day cruise to Jamaica and Grand Cayman.

I just can't go very long and not be in the Caribbean.  I love the blue waters and can spend literally hours just sitting and watching the sea.  It is what rejuvenates me.

When Mark was first diagnosed with DSRCT in January, 2004, he told me that he was "going to Jamaica."  He wanted to go somewhere warm, somewhere that looked like the Corona commericals.  He "needed to get out of Dodge."

He never got there.

We talked him out of going out of the country.  He went to Vegas instead. 

On Monday, we will be in Jamaica.  I have packed one of his golf balls and his Aunt Mary, his grandmother, and myself will find a perfect "Corona worthy" place to bury it.  Finally, after six years, something of Mark's will be in Jamaica.

I am up before anyone else.  Trying to get last minute details done before Don takes us all to the airport.  I like the quiet.  I look forward to spending some time on the open Caribbean Sea, just looking at the waves, remembering our blessings, and looking for those Caribbean rainbows and messages from Mark.

It is respite time...

To those of you who responded to my last entry with such positive vibes...thank you.  I went to bed finally after a long night of not being able to sleep and almost got up to delete it.  I ended up falling asleep instead.  It sounded so stupid to me as I thought about it and didn't want anyone to think that I was just really nuts.  So many times I have written here, "gotten it off my chest", and then deleted it.

I realize that my rantings are those of someone who struggles every single day with what has been given and taken away from me.  I can't change who I am or how I feel.  I am glad those of you who left messages and emailed me gave me the understanding just to leave here what I write.  It may not make sense.  I have never tried to be anyone but who I am.  Now, I realize that in coming years when my grandsons are trying to figure their granny out, they will have an understanding that is ok to feel lonely, afraid of the next day and that self reflection, no matter how strange it may come out, is ok.

This website started out as a means of giving daily updates to Mark's condition.  He didn't like discussing it much but I knew that there were many who were worried and concerned and not wanting to call him or us.  The original website was maintained by a friend of his Aunt Debbie's.  I found that as Mark's condition continued to get worse that we were in for the long haul.  I needed something to be able to keep Mandy, Lisa, Harlan, our families and other friends who were out of town what was going on with us here.

It also helped me reach out and ask for help and guidance on what to do.  I remember one particular night I was so worried about Mark.  He wouldn't eat, wasn't feeling well.  We had taken him to Butch's son's graduation party.  We had John come over and take a peak at him.  I think John knew things didn't look right but only said to Don and me "Mom, Dad, I think Mark just did too much this past week.  I think he is worn out."  I know John knew differently.  He, as he has been since Mark first got sick, the parent figure in this family for more than just his sons. 

I mentioned on the web page I just didn't know what to do.  Within hours, Kris Heyde called me.  She said that I should call Mark's doctor first thing in the morning....or did she want me to have her call him?  I said I was only afraid that I wouldn't wake up in time to reach him.  So, Kris called and made sure I was up at 7am.  That was the day we took Mark into the hospital for the very last time.

There is power in the Internet.  This was social networking at its finest.  I broke every HIPPA law known to man during this time.  I don't ever remember asking Mark if it was ok if I mentioned anything at all.  I tried to be very discreet and at the same time try to convey what was going on here.  I remember many times sugar coating things.  I remember keeping some of the hurt quiet.  I did this because I knew Mark was reading every single thing that I put in.

How he loved reading those guestbook entries!!!!!  Even when we brought him home with hospice, he would ask every morning, every evening, how many "hits" there had been on the website, who had left messages.  It was only on the Sunday or Monday  before he died that he quit asking.  This is also when he stopped answering his phone himself.  He didn't ask for his computer anymore.  Only then, did I get a little more detailed as to how he was feeling, how we were feeling.

My own desktop computer is filled with viruses.  I started using his old desktop computer, but it even needs some TLC.  I now am using his laptop.  Funny, how that even seems ironic and special to me.

Markdewalle.com has now become one of my best friends.  As the time since Mark's death grows, so does the entries and guestbook messages.  It is the one thing of Mark's that continues to thrive.  It doesn't matter if anyone checks in on it.......although if you are reading this now, you have no idea how much strength that gives me.  It is the one of the places I can come to, read funny stories about Mark, look at his friends, and relive through re-reading the entries made when he was with us.

I had no clue how to setup a website.  I just randomly looked online and this company seemed to be one I could use.  I have never ever regretted it and have signed on to it for at least nine more years.  Maybe in nine years, there will be something different I can do....but I will always have my thoughts, memories of this time kept safe.

We are about 450 visits away from 90,000.  That is 70,000 visits or so since Mark died.  Many of those are mine.  I read this site frequently looking back at what was happening one, two and soon three years ago.  In the early days, when Mark was still here, those 450 visits would take only a day.  Now, it will probably take several weeks.

I would love, by June 13th, if there were 100,000 visits.  That won't happen.  Yet, that is the next goal I look towards for this site. 

Last evening was an Angel Mom meeting.  Just four of us this time.  But, like every other meeting, it is something I truly cherish.  I don't think that going anywhere else, talking to anyone else, has as much meaning.  I told Gwen last night how I remembered the Friday night she came to the football game after Kevin had died.  I was so proud of her.  I knew it was hard for her and she trembled as people greeted her.  Mark had told me earlier that he had to work late at Golf Discount and wasn't sure he would be there.....I called him on the telephone and told him Mrs. Houska had come to the game.  Not sure how he did it, but he got off work and within twenty minutes was sitting with me in the stands.  I pointed out where Gwen was sitting.  I knew that is why he came.  "Go see her," I told him, "I know she came to be near Kevin's friends."

"No, I just want to sit here and look at her."  He was so quiet for awhile.  "She is really special."

He adored Gwen.  I know that when he became so sick, he knew it would be Gwen who would be one to help me through and sort things out.

It has been 2 1/2 years now for me.  It has been much longer for her.  Still, at least I do, find much comfort being around her and the other Angel Moms.  I can tell Gwen things....things that people close to me said or did that I still have hurt feelings over.  She understands.  And more so.....I don't have to worry about it going anywhere else. 

I have found in these past 2 1/2 years that there are some things in life I must do.  At first I felt it was my mission not to let anyone ever forget my beautiful baby boy.  I have learned in time, that is not necessary.  People still think about him, hurt that this all happened.  People still email me and tell me that they are thinking of us.  I hope they never stop.  I will never, ever stop needing that.

I also know that there is no way I will ever be able to "repay" people for the kindnesses that were sent our way.  The prayers, the cards, the donations so I could stay home and care for him.

I just know that every single day I must try and be good, be kind to people, and do everything in my power to earn the gift of being able to have been Mark's mom.  I want to go to Heaven, I want to see my Mark again. 

The other day, as I was cleaning out Mark's curio cabinet, I found a check.  It was a check I had long ago forgotten about.  I realized today that I had never "entered this memory" into this website.  It does, in a peculiar sort of way, go along with what we have to do in life.

I remember first hearing the phrase "There's only two things you have to do in life....die and pay taxes," when I was in 7th grade.  It is something I never forgot, and whenever I hear it, I think of y 7th grade Social Studies teacher, Mr. Swan, saying it.

This check is a testament to it.  I scanned it and put in HERE so everyone can see it.  It is a refund check from the State of Illinois for Mark.  It is dated:  June 13, 2007, the day he died.

It is the only thing, other than his death certificate, that I have that is dated like this.  If ever a document validated this old saying, this is it.

I remember when it came, I was going to deposit it in his checking account and transfer it over to the Benefit Fund.  I had several checks that day and as the teller started going through them, I caught sight of this check and saw the date.  I quickly asked her for it back....and she said "it has been endorsed," thinking that is why I wanted it.   I told her no, that I didn't think this one was to go in that account, and I just wanted it back.  I have never cashed it.

I do understand, over much thought, that Mr. Swan was not entirely correct.  There are more than two things I have to do in life......and none of them have to do with paying taxes.

It is 3:30am and I cannot sleep. 

I have had one of the worst head colds in the history of mankind this past week.  I felt it coming on when I was at work last Sunday night and it took everything...absolutely everything in me to get through the shift.  I felt bad calling in sick as there was a snowstorm coming and in my 30+ years of working at Barnes, I have NEVER not made it in on a snowday.  I, along with Mary LeGrand, was one of those nurses in the famous 1982 snowstorm that was picked up by a four wheel driver hired by Barnes.  Little did that guy know that he was carting two pregnant nurses in to work.  Mary was pregnant with Melissa and I was pregnant with Mark.  I remember the two of us spent two or three days there before we ever got back home again.

I told our charge nurse that I wouldn't be coming in, went home, and literally went straight to bed for three or four days.  Now I can breathe again, but I can't sleep.

I have been thinking about all sorts of things.  Not necessarily worrying...but doing a lot of wondering.  I can't seem to get my mind to just relax.

I keep thinking about how happy my family is right now.  Some have decisions that will need to be made in the next coming weeks, but I know in good time everything will be fine.  I just hate that someone has something that is toiling with them.  I hope they realize how much on their side I am and that no matter what decision is made, I am here ready when needed.

I keep thinking about how happy my mom is.  Today is her sister's birthday.  My mom is the baby of her family and I think that her sister and brother still see her at times as the baby.  Mom has only another month or so before she finally retires.  I know a good reason for her retiring is that she has such a good friend with whom she hopes to spend more time.  She runs circles around me.  She is an inspiration to so many people.  I can spend time counting the next 12 years before I can even think about retiring......she could have retired more than 15 years ago.

I think about my brother.  I don't hear from him very often.  I follow what I can through Mom and know that his sons are doing well.  I miss talking to Mike and Deb, but they are busy with their own lives.

I think about Katie and how she works so hard for her family.  It is hard to believe that Kyle is as old as he is.  I missed watching him play baseball last year...a new passion for him.  I have made it a goal to get to as many of his games as possible.  The last "little league" baseball games that I went to were the ones Mark played in......and he was something to watch.

I think about Debe and how fast her kids have grown.  I am glad that she is feeling better now that she is out of the hospital and over her pneumonia.  I know it was worrisome for Terry and her kids but there is no one stronger than Debe in our family.

I think about John and Tabby and how other young marrieds must envy them.  They have three beautiful boys, have a deep faith, and care about each other so much.  The two of them always seem to know the right things to say, or to do for Don and me.  Just the other day they gave us a small stepping stone with a dragonfly on it.  It said "I am always with you."  Means so much that they make an effort to keep Mark's memory alive for Michael, Danny and Joey.

I think about how different this month is than two or three months ago.  Don's disability/retirement funding is just starting to come in.  I am no longer sitting up at all hours trying to figure out how to play the paying bills game.  The challenge isn't as strong as it was.  I am really glad about it.....I wasn't very good at it.

I talked to Don's sister, Jean on the phone tonight.  She mentioned, and I had to agree, that it is amazing given all the trials that have faced us, that we still stick together.  I am very fortunate to have Don, and realize at that same time that he is fortunate to have me......we both know we were lucky to find one another. He is the calm while I am the tempest.  We are a very good combination.  We are the very best of friends.

The trials we have been through seem to have started since the day we got married.  We have always been faced with challenges and interestingly enough, never challenges between the two of us.  They have always been outside evils that seemed to have been thrusted upon us.  Before we had been married five years, we had struggled to buy a house, then struggled to adjust to it financially....only to have a new baby four months after moving in.  Before our fifth anniversary, we had another baby and also lost both of his parents.  We went through terrible legal and financial hardships with a family business.  It took us years to recuperate.....and I think to a certain extent we are still feeling that backlash.  He supported my efforts to return to college.  We raised two boys. We went through months of unemployment when the economy was bad in the lat 80's.  We went through the trials of my father's failing health.  And then, we lost Mark.

Lost Mark.  I thought of that phrase earlier tonight.  In reality, we didn't really lose him.  I know exactly where he is....just where he told me he was going.  "I believe in Jesus, Mom.....I am going to Heaven.  It's going to be much harder on all of you, than it ever will be for me."

I find comfort in that.  I don't think anything else anyone could have told me would have eased the pain more than that statement.  He told it to me on four different occasions.  Once, when he wasin sixth grade.  We were in the car together and I was sitting at the stoplight at Union Road and Reavis Barracks, next to Hancock Fabrics.  Another time was when he came home from FCA Camp....so proud that he had been selected for the Courageous Heart Medal.  It would be several years before he said it to me again.....this time up at Barnes in 7927.  I was having a quiet anxiety attack over a CT scan that was going to be done the next day.  I asked him if he was worried about it.

"No, not really.  It doesn't really matter."  Then he asked me if I was worried about it.  I just couldn't answer him directly...he knew anyway.  I started to cry and he asked me why I was crying.

"I just worry that something will happen to me.  Who will take care of you the way I think you should be taken care of?"

"Mom", he said, "nothing is going to happen to you.  If the scan isn't good, then it isn't good.  It won't matter.  I am going to Heaven.  I win either way."

The last time he told me was the night we were alone....the late evening of Memorial Day 2007.  He told me he was done, it wasn't anyone's fault, and that he wasn't afraid.  "I believe in Jesus, Mom, I am going to Heaven."

I know he had conversations with John.  I imagine at some point he had talked to Mick about his faith.  I think this is true because when I gave Mick the cross from Mark's casket and the rosary Mark wanted him to have, I could see it in his eyes.  

In early January of 2007, Don and I spent one of those first awful days at Barnes with Mark alone together for a short time.  We both discussed together that we were the only ones who knew what it was like to lose Mark as their son.  We promised one another that we would support each other and look out for one another.  That promise continues to this day.  We have never, not one day, not mentioned Mark in some way or another.

I am very fortunate to have such a wonderful Valentine.  We don't buy each other cards or gifts anymore.  It is pointless.  We have spent the past 35 years building what we have.  Hallmark doesn't print anything that would even come close.

I am reminded, however, every Valentine's Day of Mark's sophomore year when he came home from school ANGRY that he didn't get one Valentine.  Now, Mark's girls.....mostly Mandy, Lisa and Michelle.....probably didn't get one from him either.  He had not yet met Juliet.  I just remember that he was plain old pissed.....and I hugged him and told him I would be his Valentine always.
I knew then that I wasn't what he had in mind.

That January 2007.......so many of Mark's girls came to the hospital.  Lisa, Mandy (whose parents flew her in from Colorado, something I will forever be grateful for), Amanda and so many others.  They brightened not only our day and helped with the pain we were facing, but also made some of the other patients happy.   Don was stopped in the hall that Sunday afternoon.  There must have been 20 of his friends there.  Tabby's dad had come by and everyone joined hands in the visitor's lounge and Dave said a prayer.  I remember so many of the faces of Mark's friends with tears running down their cheeks.  It gave me strength.  As Don walked down the hall, he was stopped by a gentleman.  He said  "I know your son is very sick, I don't know what is wrong with him and I am sorry.  But, Man!  He sure brings in some beautiful girls."  Mark loved it.  Don loves telling that story to this day.  We think they are beautiful.

So, sitting up here in the middle of the night, I am thinking of all these things.  It has been my family, my sons, my husband, friends, and my faith....and perhaps even more strongly the faith that both my sons have....that gets me through tough times.

Sometimes there doesn't have to be a crisis....missing someone is tough times enough.

I then had a sort of revelation.  I think I know what I am made of.

I know that I am not steel  I am just not that strong.  I am not paper because I don't tear into pieces and blow away.  I can't be burned anyway....in due time I do forgive and forget. 

I know I am not made of glass because I don't shatter and break into a million pieces.  I do crumble though.

I spent some time, instead of counting sheep, trying to think then of what I am made of.  Not as strong as steel, not paper because I won't go away, not glass, and I crumble.

I am tin foil.  That's what I am.  I am made of tin foil.  I crumble and can get myself into a tight little ball, but with some gentle care, things can be smoothed out.  I can be used over and over again.

Sounds pretty stupid....but it got me through the night.  I think it is a pretty good description.  I just have been crumbled a lot and may not shine as I once did.  There's a lot of crevices and wrinkles in me, some of which will never go away.  The original luster is gone.  I think it was removed in 2007.  But I am pretty durable and I think I can continue on.  The scars are just there for everyone to see.

I am sure that Markie is doing that eye rolling thing.  He was the one made of steel.....Superman, remember.

I look at this website everyday.  I don't always write here because usually there isn't anything new to say.......still the hurt, still the missing, still the "can't believe this even happened" feelings that never change.

I have found that it is especially hard to change anything else as well.  Shortly after Mark passed away, John suggested that we change his room decor, change everything in there.  Don and I were comfortable with the way the room was.  It had been our bedroom for 20 something years and when Mark got sick, we moved his things into it.  We have a very small house...and wanted to give Mark as much room as possible.  Changing the room wouldn't change things. 

For me, keeping things the way they were when Mark was here became an excuse for not doing anything new.  I know that even certain things that changed, such as the completion of Telegraph Road became an issue for me.  Telegraph was under construction during Mark's last days and it even created more of an issue as his funeral procession went through the construction.  The other day driving home from work, I thought to myself that Mark wouldn't even recognize it.

Slowly, though, I am beginning to let go a little more of these silly notions.  A huge change was made when Don and I decided to paint the living room.  It had always been what my brother called "a parlor".  I took the television out of the living room years and years ago.  Having a small house, I never liked that the first room people walked into when they came into our house always looked so lived in and a mess.  I changed the room to a "parlor" when Mark was barely a year old.  It had a very old style, Victorian type decor.  It took me six months to find curtains that I liked....curtains that I STILL have.  We had not painted the room since way before Mark got sick the first time.

It looks nothing like it did.  Gone are all the fru-fru things.  We put the Victorian like pictures away, moved the glass fringe lamp to the bedroom, and painted it a dark green.  My mother and I found a metal, contemporary picture that replaced all the blue/mauve pictures and wreath that used to hang above the sofa.  Still, no television in there and my 25 year old curtains look just as good as they did before.

Mark would never recognize it.

Two weeks ago we moved the aquarium to the family room in the basement.  We noticed that the wood floor underneath the aquarium in Mark's room was becoming "salted".  What a job that was...and we felt that it was the best time to move it.  We didn't lose any fish...but did lose the serpent starfish.  He had been looking a little bad...and had some bad spots on him.  I knew he wouldn't make it.

It made me feel a little sad when I saw the starfish (what the babies called "Octupus") didn't survive the move.  It was the last original thing in the tank that Paul Choe had placed in June 2007 to amuse Mark.  Another change, but we are still enjoying the beauty of the saltwater tank and still remember the kindness offered to Mark through it.

This may seem so trivial, but actually it is all a huge step for me.  I was going through some things from the desk drawer and found the pictures that I used to have hanging from my work ID.  I had finally taken them off, because through the two years I wore them, the colors began to run.  Mark's pictures were now more green than anything else.  I just couldn't throw them away because they were of Mark.  Don threw them away.  I felt bad.

I now understand why some people hold on to things.  I have a slight understanding of hoarders.  It is an attempt to make time stand still.....to keep things as they were.

This week will be the 18th anniversary of Jimmy Brockmeyer's death.  It seems like it was yesterday, yet Jimmy has been an angel longer than he was here with us on Earth.  On Jim and Lois' family room walls are paintings of clowns that used to hang in Jimmy's bedroom.  I suppose some people who visit them are not aware of the significance of those pictures.  I understand why they have them there.

I did dream about Mark the other day.  It was a disturbing dream and I don't remember what it was about.  I know what he was wearing....one of his striped polo shirts.  It had something to do with him writing a paper at school and me being mad at him about it.  I did not wake up with a good feeling because I couldn't remember what it was really about.  I keep hoping that another dream will come.

Sunday afternoon, Joe up the street took his son and a couple of other kids to Kinswood Drive and cleaned up "Mark's street" for a community service project.  It has been so cold and Don and I haven't been up there that it was such a treat for us to have these young men do it.  It meant a lot to me, knowing that maybe for an hour or two a couple of young boys were doing something in a round about way that honored Mark.

Those are the only two things that in the past month have been new Mark related events.  I hate that they come so far and few between. 

I haven't been back to the cemetery since Christmas.  Don went by and took the cross and the picture Scott made.  Later in February we will put them all back.

I follow Mark's friends activities through Facebook.  I don't have my own Facebook because I think I am a little too old for it....besides, I have this website to collect my thoughts on and I don't think anyone really cares one way or the other what I am up to.  I thought the other day that things continue to change and progress with his friends.  I am sure he is happy with everyone's successes.

It is hard to make changes, but I am trying.  I think that is what Mark meant when he told Don and I we had to keep going.

I will continue to try and do that, but no matter what, I am keeping some things just the way they were.