Thunderbolt

The memorial service was lovely and the tribute to Kathy was very heartwarming. Karyn, Cindy and Ginger all got up to speak (as did her brother, Tony) and I can't believe that they were able to keep it together. I know that people talk about there being a sense of "closure" once the funeral takes place (I've even said that), but there really isn't, is there? Just because you spend a day speaking loving words and looking at pictures and greeting relatives you haven't seen in decades (or ever met) and friends paying respect and listening to your loved one's favorite songs (or songs chosen at random by someone trying to help out) and drinking away your sorrows and crying, crying, crying and finally crying one last time until you're too exhausted to keep your eyes open doesn't make the pain go away or the fact that your mother, sister, aunt, or best friend died and you'll never be able to hug them again in this life. A part of you is missing no...

Tomorrow is Kathy's memorial service and I feel anxious about it. I think it's just that I know there is going to be a lot of tears and I'm unsure how well I can comfort someone in that situation. I know to offer love and hugs, but that sometimes doesn't feel like enough. I have to get up and run 4 miles tomorrow. My end goal and the reason I'm running is of great importance, but right now, running does not feel so vital that I need to write about it. Aloha

It’s an obsession. You’re driving down the street and you begin to wonder how many miles it is from this street sign to the traffic light. How long would it take to run up that long hill near your daughter’s school? And you think about how cool it will be when you actually do run that hill. You worry about getting new shoes and when you’ll be able to afford them. You question the strength of you knee and back not because you’re worried about being able to walk in ten years, but because you’re worried about finishing the run. You’re bummed when your MP3 player finally breaks down because you look forward to the blending of reality (running) and what’s going on in your head as you listen to those songs. Weights star to pop back into your head and you contemplate pulling out the dumbbells one more time. Along with those 40 crunches you do each morning, the Yoga tape suddenly get dusted off. And then there’s what you eat. You make goals for yourself. Limited coffee. No cream (y...

Ran yesterday and I was surprised how easy it was to wake up at 5:30. Scary. I'm slipping into my groove so soon. This is a pleasant surprise. Spoke with Cousin Dave this afternoon and we've brainstormed on a couple of new ideas for fundraising this year. Our conversation reminded me that the Active.com web page needs to be updated. I'll get on that tomorrow. I guess it's time to get to work on my letter. Every year it gets more difficult to figure out what I should say. For a man who has so much time and so many words swirling around in his head, it sure is hard to find the right words. The kids are in bed and I have to check on some things for Karyn. I'm helping out for the memorial service this weekend. Nothing big, but I need to get to work now. Aloha.

Julie and I watched a remarkable documentary on The Learning Channel called “The Boy Whose Skin Fell Off”. Remarkable not because it was some boring scientific expose on a rare genetic disease called ( ), but because it showed how great the human spirit can be. The subject of the special, Jonny Kennedy, was 36 when he died from this disorder. Here is the synopsis from TLC’s website: Thirty-six-year-old Jonny Kennedy was born with a terrible genetic condition called dystrophic epidermolysis bullosa, which meant that his skin literally fell off at the slightest touch, leaving his body covered in agonizing sores and leading to his final fight against terminal skin cancer. In his last months, Jonny decided to work with a filmmaker to document his life and death. The result is a film that tells the uplifting, confounding and provocatively humorous story of an amazing man on a mission to make his final days on earth memorable While it did show the horrific effects of this disease, it also s...

Thursday again and it's been an eventful week. Sophie began the first grade yesterday and I am proud to say that she did fine. Julie is really sad that Sophie will be gone most of the day. But Sophie, so far, has been doing fine with the transition. Then again, it's only been two days. The four of us went to her new school together yesterday. I will always remember the ride up to the school and Elton john's "Tiny Dancer" playing on the radio. I feel like she's growing up so fast. Then I'll come home to find her and Jacob running around like maniacs. These simple reminders are all I need to let me know that she's going to be a kid for a while still. But I need to record these moments in my brain. Jacob has been growing, too. We have been pleasantly surprised at how full his face is becoming, and that he fits in 3T clothes, even outgrowing some of the three size shirts he wears. Although he is still shorter than kids his own age, I don't ...

It's been a long week and I haven't run or walk at all. Karyn's mom health has deteriorated and we're not sure how long she has. Jules and I have tried to help out as much as possible. The best that we can do right now is watch Max, Zach and Megan. Those kids were at the house Tuesday, Wednesday and today. I took the day off yesterday and we all went to the beach. I am amazed at how these kids are going with the flow. Though, I'm not sure how aware they are that their Nana is dying. The specter of death has hovered closely this week. Tuesday the 9th would have been my oldest friend, Matt Brookshire's birthday. He passed away in February and I have been dealing with that situation all year. I know I have spoken about Matt in the past and his death came as a shock to everyone who knew him. The two of us went so far back, I don't recall how we met. I look back at pictures from 1st grade and there we are, the two of us in the same class. How did we m...