This month begins the “death march”. That annual walk down memory lane that takes me from the last family trip we took when he was feeling somewhat healthy, to the 3rd diagnosis, to M.D. Anderson, to a brother’s graduation, to a stressful birthday in the ER, to a series of specialists, to yet another hospital, and finally to a cemetery on a beautiful hilltop in the country.

From September to November each year, each day has a meaning for me. Each day in this time period 5 years ago brought something new, not always bad, but some new challenge for us, some new emotion, new thought, new fear, new reality. I can’t describe how it all felt, but each year I feel it again. Less intense than the year before, but it’s there anyway. Each day between now and the first week in November has a specific memory associated with it. All of it leading up to the end. It’s beautiful and terrible, and it sucks. But, like all things on this path, this will not go away. There is no way out but through. I’m putting on my waders and trudging on.