My Street Light

The hardest part of starting this blog has been coming to terms with having to write the final one. It was not supposed to be this way. Brynn had created this blog to capture our journey and evolution as we learned and grew from this experience as individuals and as a unit. We always believed that she would sign off with an announcement that she had beat this awful disease. So this is difficult for me to reconcile, and I have not actually come to terms with anything. But throughout my journey with Brynn’s battle, the therapeutic nature of putting my thoughts down on a piece of paper has been very helpful. I’ve been writing a lot, mostly to Brynn, where I read to her through a plant I received the day of. Brynn and I had a habit of naming all of our plants to give them individuality. The new peace lily I received from work is so vibrant and full of life, the only appropriate name for her was Brynnly.   

I pace around the house quite a bit, looking at things, interact with our plants that taught me how to nurture Brynn, and reflecting on the beautiful space we had created. When we bought this place a couple of years back, we decided to start completely fresh, and through heavy negotiations, we were able to create our sanctuary that we loved living in. I joke about the negotiations, but it was actually what I loved about us, as we always said compromise was being halfway happy. Our entire relationship was about making sure the partnership was always put first before our individual needs. It is amazing what you get individually, when you approach things with that mindset.  

Given her near death experience back in June with a few other very dark moments throughout, I started questioning this week in a state of having a questionable mind whether going through such experience is easier if it is as short as possible, or over a longer period of time. I never had such an unrelenting conviction of wanting the medical teams to keep going at it that time, and I am so grateful we did. The extra 4 months we had together was nothing short of life changing. I believe we reached new depths of love given the stripped-down nature of our relationship. We did not have many of the elements that were the original pieces of our marriage. What we had were just being present, long talks, crying and laughter, challenges, support, love, affection and hope. We simply put, had each other. I learned new meanings of intimacy that was driven by how you look at someone and what you’re willing to do for them, as my love for Brynn grew. This is making it harder given my amplified emotions towards her and our marriage from the closeness we had experienced. Last couple of months, particularly, I was very sad and anxiety driven. However, I am finding the alternative is much worse, and would trade the now back to it without question.  

I miss her so much, and struggle with triggers like tributes, cards, flowers and writing this blog that represent a finality that I cannot accept right now. And perhaps this is why I am still having a hard time thinking about a memorial service. Those triggers make me incredibly sad and lost. The ones that bring a lot of anger are the notes about how she is no longer in pain and suffering - Brynn did not suffer.  

During last couple of days in the hospital, she asked for this gluten-free muffin she was craving. Unfortunately, the doctors did not allow her to eat at that point. After a few days of not eating myself, I sheepishly started breaking pieces off the muffin and eating while sitting in the ICU thinking she was sleeping. She noticed, took off her oxygen mask and said with that devilish grin “Really? You’re stealing food from a cancer patient?”- I think she was half kidding. She very well understood that suffering is a choice you make, and she epitomized how to live in the face of adversity with grace, gratitude, reflection and with a little playfulness. Yes, Brynn was in tremendous pain, but I can assure you that she would’ve gladly lived with them if she could still be writing in this blog. She loved life so much more than she hated the pain. That is Brynn.  

I also reject the notion that cancer won. She lived her life the way she wanted to until the very last moment. One’s life is defined by how you live it, not anything else. Over the past few months we’ve both started somewhat understanding the meaning of spiritualism as well. We always intellectualize these concepts, particularly people like Brynn and myself who are not religious. But over the past few months and more so in the last week, I’m understanding that one’s spirit and energy lives on through the people they have impacted. Seeing the outpouring of love and appreciation both from her personal and professional community is making me realize the wide impact she has had on many people. For me, Brynn did not change who I am. She loved me for me, my essence, my good and bad, which gave me the security and comfort to be vulnerable; to push myself without the fear of failing; get up when I fall down; learn, grow and evolve with her. The common theme from my dear friends who have been my rocks throughout is that she took someone good, and created an environment for me thrive in. That’s what we did for each other, as I simply admired her on so many levels that I wanted her to feel safe to be herself and go through her own journey knowing that she has someone that would be there as a fan, teammate and sometimes coach. But more so than anything, she was my street light that illuminated the road I was on so I did not veer off. The light that allowed me to see and experience things in a new way or that I might’ve missed. I can’t imagine a light that shines so bright can ever fade, and I know it will not in my journey.    

Brynn started this blog to capture her fight and journey against this horrible disease, and of course to harass me to write to release. But I believe it morphed into much more for the both of us. It documented the evolution we were going through as individuals and as a unit while we faced the confluence of struggles and emotions. We became more honest and vulnerable about our lives. And as we continued to write, we also discovered more about each other that we were not verbalizing. We anticipated and read each other’s post with everyone else that allowed us to step back and out of the day-to-day, and retain a sense of wonderment. And I can’t thank her enough for pushing me to do so.  

As I am writing this blog, I am realizing that there doesn’t need to be some sort of finality or what everyone calls closure. It forces a transition that’s not real or realistic. Life really is much more interwoven of people, experiences and continuation. I am not going to believe that just because Brynn and I are not sitting together today, that we are not together. I don’t need to say goodbye to her, because she is in and with me. And I have a strange feeling she is going to continue being my bright street light. 

I love you, baby. We’re still shooting for the moon.

-Troy the husband