Letting Go

Anthony is the love of my life...as I am the love of his. That explains why this is so hard. Neither of us wants to part. Unfortunately, it appears the time has come for that to happen. I’m so sorry to tell you this. I’m sorrier than I’ve ever been about anything in my life. But, I want you to know so that you can pray for Anthony...You see, it appears that he is very close to letting go...to leaving this life...and me. 

Ever since his hospitalization in early March, Anthony’s condition has steadily declined. Once again, he is in the hospital receiving fluids and medications to rehydrate him and balance his electrolytes. However, things are very different this time. This is the last time we will do this. As soon as we can arrange it, I will be taking him home and placing him on Hospice care. And, as soon as I get him home, I will put him in bed and curl up next to him. And, I won’t leave his side for one second...until he leaves me.

I know this is not the way we wanted this story to end. Unfortunately, we don’t get to write the script. Oh, geez, we’d probably make an awful mess of things if we could, anyways. Even though I’m sick of hearing that ‘God has a plan,’ deep down inside, I know it’s true. I also know that I couldn’t come up with a better one, no matter how hard I tried. None of us could. I have learned that God’s plans often appear mysterious when we’re going through the most difficult times, but later on, down the road, we are blessed with an understanding of why things happened the way they did. As the mysteries unfold, the miracles are exposed. Maybe not the miracles we were hoping for, but that doesn’t make them any less than miracles. We will just have to wait and see.

For now, however, my focus must stay on Anthony and his comfort. Please pray with me, for Anthony to have a peaceful and painless transition from this life. Please pray for me, that I may stay strong so I can help him let go. A few hours ago, he told me he was ready to let go. Ten minutes later, he said that maybe his decision was “a bit hasty.” When I asked him why, he said he didn’t want to leave me. Do you know how badly I wanted to scream out, “Well, then, don’t leave me!...Don’t you dare leave me!”....?  Of course, I don’t want him to leave me! But, even more than that, I don’t want him to suffer anymore. Especially on my account. I could not live with that. I love him far too much to subject him to anymore pain or suffering. So, while I don’t want him to leave me, I do want him to let go.

Thank you for traveling this journey with us. I want you to know how much Anthony and I appreciate everything you have done to help us along the way. Your companionship, your prayers, your support...just you being there...has comforted us more than you could ever imagine. Sometimes, when someone is very ill, like Anthony, people are afraid to reach out, to come around, or to be there because they feel inadequate or helpless or even scared. But, not you...No, not you! You have stayed with us, all the way. For all that you are and all that you do...Anthony and I thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

This is not the end, my friends. We must remember that Anthony’s life is not ending. The best part of his life is just waiting for him to step into it and embrace it without pain, sickness, or suffering. Imagine...a life without the least bit of turmoil. A beautiful and peaceful life walking in the presence of our Lord. Forever.....Miraculous.

Still Hoping...For Him

Last night, I cried so hard that it hurt. Violent spasms emanating from the center of my being sent quaking jolts of grief throughout my entire body. In a futile attempt to stifle my tears and silence my cries, I laid, face-down, on my bed with a pillow over my head. But, before long, the emotional and physical pressure proved far too powerful for me to hold in, and everything spilled out. My tears fell freely and my sobs broke loose with a force that left me shaking and weak and gasping for breath. When it was finally over, I laid, crumbled in a heap on top of my bed, bruised and broken, buried in an avalanche of sorrow and despair. Sick with grief, I cried out to God for help and waited for Him to free me from the fallen debris of my broken heart. Feeling alone, in a valley of sadness, all I could think of was a song I used to sing, based upon Psalm 121... “I lift up my eyes to the mountains; when will help come to me?”  When will help come to Anthony?

These last couple of weeks have been really, really hard. Two weeks ago, Anthony was discharged from the hospital after a four day stay. He was treated for dehydration and acute renal failure. A few days after he came home, I spent a day in the ER being treated for severe exhaustion and dehydration. (Seriously....Since then, I don’t go anywhere without a sports bottle filled with coconut water or Powerade.) 

Because Anthony became so ill and had to be hospitalized, any plans for further treatment had to be put on hold. In the meantime, Anthony did decide that he wants to give the chemo (Gemzar) a try. We actually went to the chemo teaching appointment on Tuesday, but the nurse practitioner sent us directly to the ER because his lab work from the day before indicated that he was very dehydrated again. He had a few liters of IV fluids pumped in and then I brought him home. The doctor thinks too much fluid is being tapped each time he has a paracentesis...This is dehydrating him and causing serious imbalances with his electrolytes. So, from now on, only three liters will be taken off at a time. Unfortunately, this also means that Anthony will have to contend with abdominal distention most of the time. 

So, now what? Well, Anthony has chosen to have Hospice come in and get him set up on their service since chemo, at this time, is not possible. In order for him to start the chemo, his labs will have to improve considerably... particularly his kidney function and his sodium level. In the meantime, Hospice will be able to provide care and services at home that will not only help Anthony, but will also give the kids and me some support. We were told that Anthony can still choose to have chemo in a couple weeks (hopefully, his labs will even out and he’ll feel a little stronger), at which point, Hospice will be put on hold. At least, with this option, he does not have to give up his hope...which, by the way, he refuses to do! And since he still has hope, so do I. Oh, it’s hard...Harder than anything I’ve ever done, but I’m holding on to hope with him. And for him.

But, I still cry. Every single day, at some point, I bury my head in my hands and I sob. Mostly alone. Once in a while, with a friend or with one of my kids...but mostly alone. Never with Anthony. I think that’s why it always hurts so damn much. Anthony has always, always been there for me. He has always held me and stroked my hair or rubbed my back. He has always told me that everything will be OK. And, no matter how big the problem, how confusing the issue, or how sad the feelings, I have always believed him. There’s never been a reason not to...because Anthony has always made everything OK. I know that might sound kind of hokey to you, but it’s true. Anthony used to make everything better than OK. He used to.

Now, I don’t expect Anthony to tell me everything will be OK. He can’t. He is too sick. He is weak and he sleeps a lot. He gets sick to his stomach often and has trouble keeping his food down. Sometimes, he’s confused and he forgets. He needs help walking, even with his walker. I shower him and dress him. I’m pretty good at shaving him, too. I brush his hair and trim his nails. I feed him when he’s too tired to hold his fork or spoon. He’s been spilling his drinks lately...His glass gets too heavy for him to hold...so I put a straw up to his lips so he can sip on fluids throughout the day.  I stay with him, right next to him, in case he needs anything. And, I tell Anthony everything will be OK. I say the words and smile my very best smile as I hold his face the way he used to caress mine. And I think he believes me. I wish I did.

So now, when I cry so hard that it hurts, it just keeps hurting...long after the tears have run dry and my cries are silenced...It just keeps hurting. All the time. I try telling myself everything will be OK...I try to imagine Anthony telling me everything will be OK...but it’s not the same. And it doesn’t work. I don’t feel better. I just feel empty and lonely and sad. Even so, I keep holding on to hope...sometimes, only by a thread, but I keep holding on to any little shred of hope I can find. I do it for me. But mostly, I do it for him.

Anthony Will Always Be Anthony

One day, after teaching a math lesson, one of Anthony’s students went up to his desk, pointed at a problem on the worksheet in her hand, and said, “I don’t get this, Mr. DiRocco.” Anthony said, “Well, maybe you could try looking at it from another angle.” Before he had the chance to say anything further, the little girl immediately looked down at her paper and slowly rotated the sheet about 90 degrees. She cocked her head to the side and quizzically stared at the paper for several moments before glancing back up at Anthony. She was looking at it (literally) from another angle. Aren’t kids great?

Sometimes, we need to look at complicated things from another angle...get a different perspective on the situation. There are times when our vision may be too myopic that we fail to see the entire picture. We may concentrate on one little piece, perhaps even focus all our energy in the wrong place.  Other times, we may look at a particular problem or situation through such a wide lens that we completely overlook a small, but vital, piece of the puzzle. It kind of reminds me of those ‘Find the Hidden Object’ puzzles that I’d steal from my kids’ Highlights magazines. (Those puzzles were the main reason I kept the kids’ subscriptions coming...long after they grew out of reading the publication!) Sometimes, you can find things by taking in a view of the entire picture; other times, you can focus in on one small area and find that hidden piece camouflaged amid similar lines or patterns. It’s not all that different from the conundrums of real life. I wish solving the real life mysteries were as fun as the Highlights’ puzzles.

Since Anthony was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I have had to adjust and readjust my way of looking at things from so many different angles that my head has gone spinning. To further complicate things, many of the details, parts of the picture, have changed over the course of his illness. Even one of Anthony’s doctors told me that nothing about his case has been ‘normal’ or ‘usual’ from the very beginning. So, processing all the information we’ve been given and dealing with all the changes and ups and downs, has been challenging much of the time...usually frightening...and almost always exhausting. Only one thing has remained simple, uncomplicated, and consistent from every perspective, every angle, every vantage point. That one thing is Anthony...who he is and how he loves. 

Through all the tumult, in spite of the sadness, regardless of the outcome, this one constant...Anthony...has brought, and will always bring, me comfort and a sense of peace. You see, Anthony being Anthony never changes. His love for me is completely and totally unconditional. And it never wavers. I’ve never, ever...not even once...felt that he didn’t love me. For me, that’s huge...gigantic...pretty unbelievable. What’s even more amazing is that his love for me has made me (finally) feel that I...this broken, imperfect, flawed human being...am special and infinitely loved by God. You see, I can’t help but ponder this: If Anthony...a broken, imperfect, flawed human being...can love me so perfectly, how great must God’s love for me be? Only a person with a pure heart and a deep love for God can lead another to ponder such mystery. That is who Anthony is.

It has become very obvious to me that I am among many whose lives have been touched by Anthony’s love. Since he has fallen ill, hundreds of people have responded to our requests for prayer. Many have forwarded updates to others whose lives have also been touched by Anthony in some way. Childhood friends and former classmates, some of whom Anthony has not seen or heard from in years, have written or called to tell us they are praying. I have never seen anything like this. But, then again, I have never known anyone like Anthony.

I received an email the other day...a poem written by an old friend whom Anthony has not seen in decades. The poem was sent to others as an urgent request for prayers after learning of Anthony’s recent hospitalization for dehydration and acute kidney failure. I wept as I read this poem. I wept, not only over the beauty of the words...I wept because I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the man to whom I am married. I wept because this man I call ‘husband’ has grown over the years, but he hasn’t changed. His deep love for God has always spilled out and touched the lives of those who have been blessed with his friendship.

No matter how complicated things get, no matter how this illness threatens to change our lives, I can be sure of one thing...Anthony will always be Anthony. He will always love unconditionally, with a pure and beautiful heart.

Anthony J. DiRocco, Jr.
He has grown, but he hasn't changed.

Here is the poem I received from Anthony's dear friend, Gil Garcia. Thank you, Gil, for showing us Anthony through your eyes.

An urgent request for prayer for Anthony DiRocco  (February 28th, 2012)

A dear friend, Anthony DiRocco, lies fighting for his life in my beloved San Pedro.  

I ask all who know him, and those who do not, 

to reminisce of a morning you might have spent listening to the surf at sunrise.

 He is that!

  

He was created by God to bring joy to your soul, and freshness to your very existence, 

like the sounds of shore delivering the songs of nature from the creator.

 He is that. 

Much like the morning shoreline mist cleansing your senses

in blissful strolls along the water’s edge.

Similarly, Anthony’s music and songs throughout his life

have allowed one to find joy in the vibrations of his strings

and the beauty of his voice,

a gift he’s given freely throughout his life.

He is the man, the person, the Jongleur of life

who strolled into your troubled existence with music and rhyme;

He is that.

His contributions to one’s everyday life go beyond his music,

for his friendship is treasured by all who chanced to know him.

He is a gift to all life; He is selfless.

He is that and more.

I implore all who have known him, and those who have not,

and to those who have forgotten how to pray,

to pray this day for the healing of this soldier of joy. 

Please, if you have ever loved another human being, male or female,

before you lay your head down tonight

let your higher power hear in a massive common cause

a request from mankind to heal our Jongleur of song.

Please, I beg you because he is all that I say;

He is that and more.

Please hurry to send this on to your friends

and ask them to send it on to theirs from country to country today.

Do not wait!

                                                                                                                ~ GIL GARCIA

Check out Gil's artwork at 

Gil Garcia's Art Gallery