December 5, 2019

The past month has been a whirlwind. It started with my election to the Jamesburg Board of Education on November 5th and continued with a travel schedule for work that has more than tripled my typical days on the road. Now, as the hours creep closer and closer to December 5th, I find myself in a hotel room in Boston doing a lot of remembering. Tomorrow will be eight years since Joe died and even eight years later this week brings up a whole range of emotions. There are still moments of deep sadness for sure, but as I sit here in the city where we spent our honeymoon I realized that what I feel most is grateful.

I am grateful for who he was and who we were as a couple. I am grateful for how our relationship shaped me then and continues to shape me now. And I am grateful that he lives on in so many ways. He's in that first sound of a new Greg Dulli song or the crack of a bat at a Mets game. He's in the nooks and crannies of our home and each moment that I try like hell to model his patience. And he is most definitely in our son Domani and the countless friends and family members who have continued to love us like he did.

As I was waiting at the airport earlier I started reading back on my old CaringBridge blog posts from the days before Joe died. It's been awhile since I've looked back on them, but I'm glad I did.

In their own way, they reminded me of the preciousness of Joe and me - the preciousness of Joe and me which became the beauty of Joe and me and Domani and then the strength of Domani and me and all who loved Joe. I thought it made sense to share those posts here today.

Heartbreaking News

Journal entry by Anne Luck-Deak — Nov 30, 2011

It is late and we are all quite tired in the Deak household. After a long night last night which included a visit from the hospice nurse, we went to Joe's oncologist today. Joe had been scheduled for his next chemo treatment, but given his weakened state it was hard to believe they would do it. That proved correct but on top of that we were told by the doctor covering for Joe's regular oncologist that no further treatments would be possible. A punch in the gut. And she wasn't particularly helpful or sympathetic. Another punch in the gut. While we were there Joe was given oxygen and some fluids. He also had a nice nap while receiving the fluids. Thankfully, after returning home We got a visit from his hospice nurse and later a call from his regular oncologist. His oncologist's heartbreaking conclusion was still the same but it was helpful to have our questions answered and to hear the details about his reasoning. 

The honest truth is that it was very difficult for Joe to travel to Basking Ridge today. His weakened state makes even a walk from the living room to the bedroom a difficult task, let alone walking around to get ready and then out to the car. It would just be too much for him to continue going through the motions of treatments which aren't really having an impact on the cancer. We will receive some additional services from hospice and are still considering any other possible options for Joe. Please pray for wisdom in how to proceed and for peace during this seemingly impossible time. As difficult as today was, it was nice to come home to a freshly cleaned house and some yummy food in the fridge. We have the most amazing support network and I have a suspicion it will only get better. Love to you all!

Days at Home

Journal entry by Anne Luck-Deak — Dec 2, 2011

As difficult as the last few days have been I am happy that now, finally, my husband and I can share a bedroom again. With the delivery of his hospital bed today and a borrowed twin bed for me we are now back to sleeping in the same room. No more living room/bedroom split. It's a simple thing, but something that makes both of us smile.

Given his weakened state, Joe is unable to walk now without assistance and he requires help with his medications and with the overall management of his symptoms. It is becoming quite a team effort with help from a full hospice team and many loving family and friends. It took very little time today to prepare our bedroom for our new sleeping arrangements. Everyone who was here pitched in to help move things, including the hospice social worker.We are feeling very supported.

The highlight of the day for me (aside from TWO yummy giant chocolate chip cookies from Mendoker's) was time spent looking through some photo albums with Joe. We looked back over our trip earlier this year to Cooperstown, NY (Domani's first vacation) and reminisced about our honeymoon in Boston (Duck Boat ride, Megatouch at the local bar, dinner at the table where JFK proposed to Jackie, a tour of Fenway, and the most amazing Boston Cream Pie at the Omni Parker Hotel were all highlights).

While it is frustrating to see Joe's health in decline, I am reminded of just how blessed we are to have had our paths cross again the way that they did. He is one amazing guy and together we make a darn good team.

A special hello to all those who have started following this blog in the last few days. You all have kept me busy approving requests, but with each one I know there is another person (or family) supporting us in thought and prayer. Thank you for being here and joining us through our journey.

Surrounding him with Love

Journal entry by Anne Luck-Deak — Dec 4, 2011

Joe had a difficult night last night. His breathing is much more labored and his blood pressure is high. After being up all night and a visit from the hospice nurse this morning, the decision was made to move him to 24-hour nursing care in our home. Star (love the imagery of her name) arrived this morning and will be here until 7pm. She has been helping us to take great care of Joe. With assistance, he just made the move from his hospital bed in our bedroom to his La-Z-Boy in the living room. Our project for the day is to keep him comfortable and surround him with love. As much as possible we will read to him the cards and notes we receive (both IRL and on this blog!) On behalf of our whole family, we thank you for the outpouring of support we have received. It is helping to sustain us through this unimaginable time. Hug your loved ones and smile at a stranger. Today only comes once.

A Day Together

Journal entry by Anne Luck-Deak — Dec 4, 2011

After a day of being with each other and being with Joe, I am here in the bedroom with him and the nurse while my Dad puts Domani to sleep. Joe is resting comfortably, but has been non-responsive since about 3pm. That has certainly not stopped us from reading him emails and posts and sharing our own musings with him. Although it arrived much too quickly, it was a good family day. I just wish it weren't a part of saying goodbye to my best friend. There were tender moments: Domani "brushing" Daddy's hair In the morning and then later in the day grabbing Joe's hand and saying DaDa (along with a few other random syllables.) His kind words to me this morning about my support to him. Visits from some dear family and friends. The smile on his face while I massaged his feet. I am just happy to know that he was able to hear so much love from so many people today. Thank you all. Will do my best to keep you up to date.

At Peace

Journal entry by Anne Luck-Deak — Dec 5, 2011

Joe passed away peacefully this morning just before 6am. I was there in the room with him and had just laid down to rest on my bed next to his when he took his last breath. He is finally done battling and at peace. Heather Diaforli-Day continues to coordinate assistance for our family including the provision of meals. I will post updates regarding services and other ways you can assist our family in the coming days. Thanks for standing with me, Joe, and Domani and letting us know how very much we are loved.

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Don't Stop Believin' - The Boston Marathon Reprise

Ten days after I ran the Boston Marathon, Facebook was kind enough to remind me about the first 5k I ran just four years before. I had completed a "Couch 2 5k" program and triumphantly completed my first 3.1 mile race in 36:08 - at an 11:38/mile pace. The popping up of this reminder was the moment when the feat of completing the Boston Marathon finally sank in for me. Only four years before, I was deep in grief and barely hanging on - dragging my out of shape body and equally out of shape mind across their first finish line. Now, here I was, four years later - sitting in my living room - not only a Boston Qualifier, but a finisher of the Boston Marathon. 

Crossing the finish line!

No longer chasing the unicorn!

When I ran that first 5k with the theme song "Don't Stop Believin'" holding it all together I was wondering if I would be able to finish the whole thing without walking. I was certainly not thinking about the possibility of running 13.1 miles and definitely not even dreaming about 26.2. But as these things often go, running races meant that I made some friends who also ran. Before I knew it, I was signed up for my first (and shortly after that my second) half marathon. Within a year, I was training for the NYC Marathon with Team Determination, raising money for the American Cancer Society in memory of my husband Joe.

Not even six months after NYC - in April 2014 - I made my first attempt to qualify for Boston, running the NJ Marathon in 3:55:16 and in November 2014 I nailed it, completing the Philadelphia Marathon in 3:33:22 - a BQ by almost 7 minutes. I will never forget that day and the sheer joy of walking back to my hotel with "I'm Shipping Up to Boston" on repeat blaring through my earbuds. 

I went on to run the Boston Marathon on April 18, 2016 with my parents, my son, my sister, brother-in-law, two nieces, and members of my running club all there to cheer me on. Many more friends and family members followed along virtually sending encouragement not only from across the country, but from various points around the world as well. Thanks to a special event page set up by my sweet friend Elissa I had even gotten marathon well-wishes from one of the members of my all time favorite band - The Afghan Whigs.

Marathon Monday was a glorious day packed into a truly memorable weekend.

Enjoying my 26.2!

Somewhere along the way after completing Boston, though, I admit that I lost sight of what a big feat it actually was for me to get there and to do it. The daily grind of work and being a single mom took over. When friends and family members would ask me about it I would assume that they didn't *really* want to know because who ever *really* wants to hear about the details of these four hour races except for maybe other runners. My own race recovery meant I was running less and therefore less inclined to socialize with runners and talk about running. Plans to get together with friends for celebratory "after Boston" drinks or meals got crowded out by life and this blog post sat barely started with only a few pathetic paragraphs that didn't even go together. Boston and all of its hard-earned glory quickly faded into the rear-view mirror of my life.

That was until I met someone who refused to let me forget that completing the Boston Marathon was actually a pretty big fucking deal, someone who never misses a chance to remind me about the work it took to get there and how strong I am for having finished it. He makes it a part of casual conversation anytime I express a doubt about myself or about being able to get through something. 

You don't think you can handle that thing at work? Of course you can, you did the Boston Marathon! 

You're worried about something going on with Domani? Just remember how strong you are and the example you are setting for him when he watches you do things like running Boston.

So, here I am on my way to vacation in San Francisco finally working on this blog post and I'm determined that before life takes over again, I'll wrap it up. I finished the Boston Marathon...the least I can do now is finish the post about it.

There are no words for the experience of being in Boston with my family for the marathon, but especially of being there with Domani. He WAS proud of me. It still makes me tear up when I see the photos of him and his cousin Catherine with me after the race with the signs they made.

With Catherine & Domani (and their signs)
after the marathon!

My family went to great lengths to be there for me just after mile marker 21 on race day. My pregnant sister, her husband, and their two young children trekked along with my parents and son by foot and by "T" hours in advance of the time I would be running through in order to make sure they were well-positioned. They had all created signs and added the BAA app to track me. My sister Naomi was watching from Idaho via FaceTime. They were a highly committed cheering squad - and it meant the world to me.

With my Mom & Dad and their sign before the marathon

The swell of joy I felt as I saw their signs from afar is not something I could ever describe, but knowing they were just ahead was what powered me over Heartbreak Hill and seeing them gave me the push I needed to finish strong. I was on top of the world in that moment of seeing them. There were high fives all around and a quick hug for Domani. I remember telling him something like "hey buddy, mommy is gonna go finish the Boston Marathon!" and then running off to the last 5 miles.

Greeting my family at Mile 21!!

Chatting with Domani at Mile 21!!

My family wasn't the only cheering squad holding a sign with my name on it in Boston on April 18th though, and I know that I would never have even been running those streets if it hadn't been for the best running club in NJ - Raritan Valley Road Runners and for my friend, Malinda Ann Hill. 

RVRR powered me through my BQ training cycles and cheered me on during both of my BQ attempts, including my Philly qualifier. Club members were also there in Boston to cheer on those of us who were running. The excitement of seeing friends I had been running and training with for the last two years as I closed in on my final 5k of that race is indescribable. RVRR has led me to some deep friendships and incredible personal achievements, but most important to me is the unconditional support I have found both in competition and life. It makes me bubble up with pride anytime I see the RVRR banner or our club members, so seeing RVRR on the Boston course was just that much sweeter.

RVRR in the house to cheer in Boston!

Malinda and I became friends back in 2012 when I had first started running. At that time I was racking up a bunch of 5k races and we ran in one together to raise money for the Colon Cancer Alliance. Not only did we share a love for running, but we also have common music tastes (The Afghan Whigs!) and are both single moms touched in different ways by cancer loss. She inspired me to chase the unicorn, ran with me whenever possible, sent virtual encouragement around the clock, and made sure there was a sign at Boston in the Wellesley Scream Tunnel just for me. 

With Malinda at my 2nd half marathon
 and the 1st I ran with her -
the Nike Women's Half in Washington, DC.

You could not ask for a better running club than RVRR or a better running friend than Malinda.

There was no denying that when I crossed the finish line in Boston I wasn't alone. There were so many people who played a part in that accomplishment. Suzanne and Bob who ran that first 5k race with me more than four years ago. Marise who I met for the first time while waiting to board the bus to Hopkinton. Friends and family who watched Domani. Fellow runners who pushed me along during difficult moments. Amazing people who waited for hours in all types of weather to cheer for me in marathons, half marathons, and 5k races in destinations near and far. Friends who toed starting lines with me and toasted in celebration after. My faith community who prayed and loved on me. People who I met through grief support who remembered and laughed and cried with me. Those special friends who never let me get lazy and always knew the right time to say "put down the chocolate chip cookie dough and get your ass out for your track workout".

With Marise just before going to our start corrals

When I finally reached the finish line in Boston, there was a lot of thankfulness that welled up inside of me for all of those people and for the winding path that had brought me to that place. There was also a whole lot of "I'm not sure if I can even make the walk back to the hotel". All of that brought me back to a moment that happened much earlier on the course.

Loved these signs

There have been many times over the past 4 years of training and races when I've experienced these supernatural moments that I can only attribute to a nod from my husband Joe - a sort of gentle embrace just when I need it to let me know that I'm on the right path. 

During Boston, my mind was starting to play tricks on my body right around mile 7 - way too early for a marathon. Most people who talk about "hitting the wall" (and believe me, I've been there) do so much later, around mile 20. If I was already talking myself out of the race at mile 7, it was going to be a long day. It was sunny and hot. I was starting to ache. Back. Legs. You name it. I remember thinking..."I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do this today." Then, it happened. I was coming up to a spot in the road where there was a tent with music blaring. The song was unmistakeable because I had trained to it - "I'm Shipping Up to Boston". My heart lifted a bit. It brought me back to my Philly qualifier. It brought me back to a gorgeous September day in Chicago during Riot Fest.

It was nice, but not terribly surprising given the race we were running. But, as I was coming up to the tent the song ended and the next one started. It was also unmistakeable because it had been my ringtone for Joe and that song which after he died would always pop up in just the right place at just the right time - "Don't Stop Believin'". And I didn't - straight through to that right on Hereford, left on Boylston and the Boston Marathon Finish Line. After the one-two punch of those songs I had everything I needed to run the race.

I am thankful for Boston and what it meant to me as a part of my grief journey. It will always hold an important place for me as a personal accomplishment, especially coming out of what has so far been the most difficult time in my life. 

From Hopkinton to Boston!

But, because God always seems to like to put an exclamation mark on these moments for me, there was the beauty and hope of last night as well.

While we were at the Mets game here in San Francisco (watching our Mets win by the way), the Giants had their 8th inning sing-along. I had to hold back the tears as the beginning bars started to play because the song was, of course, "Don't Stop Believin'". After we got home from the game, the "good luck" charm necklace I had been wearing for the last few months finally wore away and "broke" which is supposed to indicate a wish is about to come true. 

Good things are coming. I believe it. They tend to unfold exactly in the right time and the right manner in which they are supposed to - as long as we keep moving forward. And I believe that somehow Joe was just making sure I remembered that. 

After all, patience was always his virtue and never mine.