A Loving Tribute to My Late Wife, Suzanne

When is a year not enough time — but seemingly more time than you could have ever imagined?

It is hard to accept that on June 30th it will be a year since Suzanne passed away. 365 days since we as a family gathered around Suzanne’s bed, holding her hands, consoling her, all sobbing uncontrollably as we watched her go. Saddened by her passing, yet somehow relieved that her suffering was over. After all, at what point does the unrelenting and torturous journey of cancer become so untenable that you say, “I have had enough. Please no more.”

For Suzanne that day was Tuesday June 27th of last year. During her morning consult with Oncologist, Dr. Jessica Lin, and with her family by her side, when asked how she was doing, Suzanne replied, “I don’t want to do this anymore, I want the pain to stop. I’ve had enough.”

For two and a half years she had put up with the fear, the pain, the sadness — always hoping that the next clinical trial would be the one that worked, the one that would save her. And, no matter how compassionate and caring Dr. Lin was, we all knew there was no way to permanently beat back lung cancer — even Suzanne recognized that. Convinced that Suzanne was ready, she handed Suzanne’s primary care over to the palliative care team. Their responsibility was to find ways to mitigate as much of the pain and discomfort as possible.

We were all filled with fear and sadness as we prepared ourselves for the end. We were overwhelmed by what we were facing. We all knew a day like that day would come eventually (that’s part of the fear cancer invokes in your life, you never know quite when “it” might happen), but we didn’t realize it would be then. There were so many decisions that needed to be made and many more that never were. Suzanne was being treated at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston and she wanted to go home to Maryland, but how? Was it even feasible in her condition? Commercial flights were out of the question, the hospital staff looked into Angel flights or medical flights, home hospice care, and all that that entailed. We decided that it made the most sense to call Mass General “home”, so we did.

Zach lived in the hospital for a week, every night converting the sofa in the room into a bed, sleeping as close to his mother as he could. Dara and my brother Kenny and I shared an Airbnb just a few blocks from the hospital. Sandy, Suzanne’s best friend for nearly 60 years, stayed at a nearby hotel.

Every day we did our best to make Suzanne’s room feel like home, we filled that room with a lot of love and laughter, and of course an equal amount of tears. We were moved by how genuinely caring and compassionate the nurses and staff were, how hard it must be for them to deal with the pain and suffering that surrounds them on a daily basis, and yet somehow they do it with such grace. They find a way to shine light where none exists. These folks are truly a beacon for humanity — at least they were for our family.

On Friday June 30th Suzanne once again requested to go home, it broke my heart that I couldn’t make that happen for her, but I assured her that this was “home” because we were all together. I shared a picture with some friends of me hugging Suzanne and pretending to dance with her while they were straightening up her bed. The caption read: “even here love is in the air.” Who knew that would be the last time I would hug Suzanne, it sure as hell wasn’t me.

At 1:30 that afternoon (not that I would remember the exact time), Suzanne bid us farewell. Once again cancer had prevailed in spite of all the best efforts of the medical community. To this day, no one has beaten the odds.

So when is a year not enough time and yet it is more time than you could ever have imagined? I think it is when you lose a loved one. I lost my wife, my best friend, my partner in crime, the mother of my children. A year is simply not enough time to comprehend and to process how your world has been turned upside down. It is not enough time to adjust to your “new normal” and yet again, in spite of that, it is more time than I could ever have imagined. I smile as I look at how our children’s lives are continuing to evolve. I marvel at the wonderful people they are becoming, and I realize that Suzanne, who was the glue that always held this family together, is still doing just that. I realize that her legacy lives on in me, it lives on in Dara and it lives on in Zach. And, as with all things Suzanne, it is so much more than I could ever have imagined.

Much love my dear, I will miss you forever.