Death seems especially cruel when it comes calling during Christmas time. It seems so unfair that the loss of a loved one would intrude into joyous memories and bright lights. But this Christmas it did. It was not as if death swooped up out of nowhere to claim my husband, Bill Kiefer. He had been fighting metastatic prostate cancer for three years. It was only days before his 70th birthday on Dec. 30, 2019, that we received the diagnosis. We had planned a party with his closest friends, and we forged on for we both knew that at our age we needed to extract the joy each day gives us for who knows what tomorrow would bring.
We had less than a decade together, but a lifetime of love was crammed into that space. I once wrote that I found the “love of my life, late in my life” while he often lamented how different our lives would have been had we found each other when we were young. But, then we would both pause and remember that then he wouldn’t have had the lights of his life, his three sons, Chris, Stephen and Alex and his six grandchildren, and I wouldn’t have had the wonder of Doug and Shannon and six grandchildren and one greatgrandchild who fill me with love every day. No, God had a plan for us, and I believe it was to bring two mature, complete human beings into each other’s lives later in life….. people who had achieved their goals and conquered their demons and who knew what mattered…each other.
My niece, Tamera, sent Bill a card when he was diagnosed with Cancer that read “don’t let cancer define you.” When I read it, I didn’t understand. When I began to live with it, it made sense. Doctor’s appointments, radiation and chemo, CT scans, all filled our calendar. We were lucky because during most of that time Bill was not ill. He often said, “If someone did not tell me I had cancer I would not know I was sick.” And, even with cancer always looming on the horizon, we had joy. While many yearn to travel the world, our trips to the Greenbrier and Williamsburg satisfied our wonder lust because we did not travel without our constant companion…. Max, our dog. Bill had wanted a dog his entire life and when Max entered our life five years ago it was as if our small family was complete.
I have pondered long and hard about death at Christmas. Both my parents died after Christmas, but I spent hours on Christmas days sitting by their hospital bed knowing they would soon be taken from me. This time it would be different. We received the news Dec 4 that all the hopeful treatments were not working, and the prognosis was 2 to 10 months. I knew in my heart we would not make the one-month mark. The next day Bill his son, grandson and brother left for a basketball weekend. The morning after he returned home, I had to rush him to the hospital where he was diagnosed with Flu A, and I knew the time had come. I made the decision to bring him home.
It’s 5 a.m. as I write this, and the soft lights of the Christmas tree bring me some peace. My entire life I have found solace my putting my thoughts into words to share with my readers. There is a hole in my heart that I hope will fill with memories of a love I never thought I would be blessed to have in my life. And I will mark this Christmas with hope, and peace and love and knowledge that you too my readers are with me on this journey,
Merry Christmas, my dear friends.
