No, that's not fair, entirely. My family and Sandie's family (who are now my family, too) have been as helpful as anyone fighting such a desperate, but ultimately hopeless battle, could ever expect.
It's amazing to me that not only our family and close personal friends should rally at this wretched hour, but also people who I not only don't know personally, and also many whose names I have never known before. People who have never known me or Sandie except remotely through the wretched internet.
Oh, I know I'm saying all of this badly. I'm still a mess, though I will be better ... later. Soon, but later. So forgive me if I am even less erudite than usual. You know all of this is too overwhelming and I am too weak to stand it by myself, so please accept this as my own personal version of the MacDonald Clan's "Group Hug" ( which, given their years of support, I suppose I will someday be forced to endure finally; because you know, I owe you all but I can only directly repay a few).
Yes, that was a run-on sentence. So sue me.
Still, in all of this horrid, horrible darkness, I would like to single out one special comment, and this from a total stranger. Please bear with me, I'll run out of tissues soon and I can get back to Having A Life.
This is a note I found on my comments page, from an exceedingly kind man who knows exactly where I am because he is ... maybe ... just emerging from that dark place:
This is a man who knows exactly what I and my extended family are going through. He had the compassion to understand, the courage to speak beyond his own grief, and the humanity to so perfectly express himself that we can only imagine, if not understand completely, the soul-depth of his recent loss.
We have never met, but I have read your blog for some time. I have enjoyed your humor and wit. Most of all I have enjoyed your videos and have watched them perhaps hoping to gain some insight to help my pathetic shooting. About three years ago my wife developed ALS and I lost her about 6 months ago. I hope you might find it comforting to know that reading about Sandie and her illness and bravery in the face of that illness, as well as your love and caring for her, helped give me the strength to be the caregiver for my wife. I heard the expression "sorry for your loss" so much that it almost became trite. But at this time I don't know what else to say except that I am, truely, sorry for your loss.
I'm not there; I'm not man enough, or human enough, to drag myself out of the pit of dispair. Not quite yet.
But this kind man has given me such a huge boost, I know I will never be able to thank him sufficiently.
I am awed, to realize that there are such people in this world. Perhaps there is hope for us, after all.
Now I think there may be hope for me, and a tomorrow that I can anticipate in hopes that there are good things to be found there, beyond merely praying for an end to the hurt and the loss
This will be the very last time I will weep in public. I promise. You have all been very patient with me, but now I've had an example -- a standard of courage -- which I cam only try to emulate. It's something worth trying for. Besides, if I couldn't pull myself together, Sandie wouldn't like it.
Thank you all. From me, and from Sandie.