The definition of a friend…

I have been blessed with tons of great friends. Truly B-L-E-S-S-E-D, blessed. But you know me. I’m honest. There are all different variances of friends. The there when you need them friends. The there when they need you friends. Always there friends, and the there too much friends. You get the idea. We are human and that’s how we roll. It doesn’t make us bad or good. It just is. That’s us. Humans.

Today I am celebrating one of those few, cherished and special friends… The rare and priceless kind. The kind you are separated from for 10+ years and then suddenly they show up because they know you need them. The kind you tell EVERYTHING to. The kind who knows your innermost secrets and the kind that will take those secrets to the grave. The kind that spends countless hours of their demanding days planning, organizing and hosting a benefit to see to it that your dying husband has the funding he needs to continue the fight for the time he wants so badly. The kind that works you through the moment you realize your time with that ‘warrior like’ husband is coming to an end, and ensures you she’ll be there to see you through. The kind of friend who isn’t searching for the right words to say, or is too cowardly to face the hell you are living. I’m talking about the kind of friend who has seen death and prepares you in detail what to expect. Not only did this friend hold my hand as I walked that hell-like journey, she drew me a map. And she was there. She is there…

Happy Birthday to my bestie.

I’ll love you forever. I’ll appreciate you always, and I will never be able to repay you for all that you have and will continue to do for me. But I can promise I will live the remainder of my days trying. Thank you Heather!

Always,

Finns

Widow Weight…

Widow weight is a very real issue for me. For those of you who don’t personally know me. I am a small girl with a very tiny frame. I am 5’ 2” and have always hovered around the 100 – 110 Lb mark. This has changed. And it has changed more than I would like… =/

I gained weight with David’s illness but never much. Just stress weight. A few pounds on and off here and there. For the most part my weight was under control because of how hectic my life had become and the mere fact I was cooking very healthy meals for us. And then he stopped eating. That was about this time last year. And then he got weak. Very weak. Dave was prideful and stubborn and I absolutely loved (and still do) those qualities about him. David lost 35 pounds quickly, and wasn’t able to maneuver on his own safely. But there is the pride factor. He WAS going to get better and he didn’t want ANYONE to see him like that. He needed me and only me and I was there. I did everything my 110 lb body could do for him. I did more than I ever should have been able to do, but it is amazing what adrenaline and love will allow you to do. Home health was NOT an option for David. It was OUR fight and it was only worth fighting if WE could handle it. And so I was there. I ate whatever was quick. Whatever I could get my hands on and yet away from his eye view because he wanted to eat so badly. He just couldn’t. He tried so hard to get better. Harder than most would. And he did so with pride. I honored his wish and it was just OUR fight to the end. Unfortunately the end came all too soon after that…

Dave would hate that I have gained 24 pounds following his passing. He didn’t care if I could still fit into my size 2’s or what color my hair was. He didn’t care if I wore makeup or not. He did however care if I were healthy or not. He would encourage me to drink water and less soda, and eat less candy and more vegetables. And he did these things because he cared about me. Not how I looked but because he wanted me healthy. And even knowing this, for months I still ate sugary cereal for dinner and drank Mt. Dew and ate my beloved Swedish Fish. I had nothing but bad eating habits and I am now paying the price.

The solution to the problem…

Last month I joined a gym. I walked in the door day one at 134 pounds. Believe me. ONE-THREE-FOUR. The scale doesn’t lie. I don’t drink soda anymore, I avoid fried foods and believe it or not – I drink WATER. I hate water, but I drink it. What I am most proud of is the fact that I go to the gym at least 4 times a week, and I am there actively working out for at least 2 hours each time. It hurts – I press on. I sweat – I press on. I want my freaking Swedish Fish – I eat spinach salad. I sacrifice. Why?

This… (After 2nd Craniotomy)

My motivation isn’t my size 2’s in the closet.

It is this… (2/27/10 - 13 days before he earned his wings.)

And this… (During Stereotactic Brain Radiation)

And this... (After successful Thoracoscopy)

And who could disappoint this face??? (Pre-Cancer living)

Scratch that. I can name a whole pathetic group of people who constantly disappointed him (and I’m sure still are). I personally couldn’t live with myself knowing that I’m disappointing him and therefore I’m doing something about it. There is not better motivation!

Have a great weekend all.

See ya at the gym?!? =)

With love,

A 128 Lb much more tone version of Amy =)

It'll be alright again...