A year ago this week, I was sitting in a hospital room next to my brother, just shooting the breeze. I had learned of his diagnosis just a few days earlier, and yet, even though I knew it was cancer, I still felt like everything would be just fine.

Our conversation was so completely normal. We talked a lot about sports, which was something you could talk with Larry about any day, any time. I remember specifically asking him for advice about a baseball situation with Jacob, and I clearly remember his advice. I can’t sit at one of Jacob’s baseball games now without my brothers voice entering into my head.

This couple of hours in the hospital is what I think about when I think back to last summer.  I think about our last “real”, normal conversation before cancer took it’s stronghold and quickly took my brother away from his family.

Shooting the breeze, in a hospital room, talking about nothing significant at all. Just stuff.

Sometimes I wish I could re-do that conversation… to say things more meaningful than what I did. I wish I could have told him that I was sorry about a few years before when things were really strained between us…all the hateful things I said to him during that time.  I wish I would have told him how proud I was of him… how much I admired how hard he worked to give his family the life they had. I wanted to tell him that I think he turned into the most amazing dad, and along with his wife raised some of the best kids on this planet. I wish I would have told him that I was sorry I didn’t spend more time with him and that even though there were so many years between us, I had a lot of really funny and vivid memories of growing up with him as my brother.

One such memory is cemented in my head like yesterday…it was the middle of the night before Easter, and Larry was so gingerly hiding the Easter eggs, acting as the Easter bunny. I remember him telling my mom he wanted to get it “just so” because I was at a “critical age” and he didn’t want me to stop believing… only what he didn’t know was that I was peeking around the corner watching him the entire time. It was that night that I found out the Easter Bunny wasn’t real… but I didn’t let on. I never shared that story with him because on that day in the hospital and all the other days, we talked about “stuff”. I feel like we went through our whole relationship as brother and sister talking about “stuff”. Shooting the breeze…stuff.

A couple weeks later after that day in the hospital, he had gone down hill significantly, and exactly two months after the “stuff” conversation, he was gone.

Tonight, as I am on a high from a wonderful family weekend yet also in a fog because of the memories I am having from this past summer, I wonder how this past year has changed me. How will I let this change me? My husband and I drove home in silence today… we had over 4 hours of opportunity to talk about more than just stuff, but we were tired and zoned and moving through life with four kids, jobs and a busy calendar.

It’s easy to say “give grace”, “live like there’s no tomorrow”, “tell people you love them” but doing it… moving beyond just “stuff’ is hard sometimes. It takes time, it takes a lot of effort and sometimes it takes a conversation, or lack thereof, to give you that gentle push into reminding you how quickly things can change. Tomorrow is a new day and I want it to be a turning point – a tuning in point – because we never know when there might be another chance to say what we want to say.

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I’ve suffered postpartum depression before, but in the months following my brothers passing I experienced a range of emotions I had never felt so deeply in my life. I was in a fog, crying on a whim, blowing up at situations that normally wouldn’t bother me, isolating people around me, not responding to deadlines, ignoring important emails, letting bills pile up, not answering the phone and pretty much expecting my kids to fend for themselves on mornings before school. At one point I was alone in my car after an extremely tough day and the temptation to just drive and keep driving away from everything hit me so hard, I had to pull over and get a grip.

Outwardly, I tried to put on a happy face… talking myself into believing I was alright, that I could put on a front and people wouldn’t know anything was wrong. I hid behind a facade of contentment… or at least I thought I did.

So many of you sent me cards, emails, tweets, facebook messages, phone calls, etc during that time. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated each and every hand of kindness that was extended to me. There was one card though, sent to me exactly two months after my brother died, that woke me up and essentially pulled me through what was a very dark time in my life.

The card was from a reader named Dana. Among other things, Dana wrote:

“I am writing to you because in many of your recent posts I can hear the pain and grief that you are going through right now. I am so sorry for your loss. Please know that I am praying for you. Your blog really inspired me during a rough patch that I went through and I have always wanted to thank you for that.”

In addition, there was a quote:

Dana’s card, thoughtfully sent to me with words that truly hit home, is one of the things that helped me get through a dark time in my life. The timing of it arriving in my mailbox was such a gift… it was exactly what I needed to hear at the exact time I needed to hear it.

I sat down this weekend to finally write Dana back and to tell her how much her kindness, her words and her thoughts impacted my life. Because of her, I soon realized I wasn’t fooling anyone and was then able to come to terms with my thoughts and emotions head on instead of trying to suffer behind them.

I’m happy to say I’m fine now… there are times every day where my heart hurts and tears sting my eyes, but I can say that I am honestly able to see the light now instead of the darkness.

If there is someone on your mind…someone you have been thinking about and meaning to reach out to, I urge you to do so. Tell them what is on your mind through a card. You never know how life changing it can be.

I’m honored to be partnering with Hallmark in 2012 as part of their “Life Is a Special Occasion” campaign. As always, all opinions are my own.

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This time last year I was having a conversation with my husband about my family. “You know? Sometimes I think I would be fine if I just cut contact with some of them.” Of course I didn’t mean it, but I was frustrated. Each year I host our family Christmas and each year, it felt like it was becoming less and less important for people to be here. My brother, Larry, in particular was notorious for never letting me know ahead of time if his family would come, making it difficult for me to plan the amount of food we would need.

I mostly got over my fit in time for our family gathering. We had a great time… Just Dance Competitions, rousing games of Apples to Apples and just hanging out. My brother and his family did show up. I was still feeling annoyed with him though, so I don’t really remember hanging out with him much. I hung out with his kids, but I honestly can’t remember having much interaction with him at all that day.

No one in our family was ill last Christmas. Everyone was healthy and there was no reason for me to believe that things would be any different the next time we all got together. Little did I know that in June 2011 my brother would be diagnosed with cancer and two months later, he would die. I had no idea our next family gathering would be his funeral.

What I wouldn’t give to replay last Christmas… to appreciate the family I have for everything they are. To love them unconditionally and to get over my bratty self and to savor their presence, announced or not, at our family gathering.

Think about your family this Christmas. What would you do differently if you knew someone you loved wasn’t going to be there next year? Is there someone you need to forgive and embrace for who they are? The best gift you can give yourself this Christmas is the gift of family, love and forgiveness. Appreciate the people God has placed in your life, for everything they are, because you never know when it may be your last chance to show them your love.

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My brother, Larry, lost his valiant 2-month battle with cancer early this morning. I was fortunate enough to be there when he passed. Hearing his wife visually walk him “home” to heaven where other friends and relatives eagerly awaited his arrival and seeing how that led him to his peaceful final breath was something I will never forget. I feel very privileged to have witnessed the moments I have in the past 24 hours.

My brother was a good man. Most importantly, he was the most amazing father and helped to raise 3 incredible kids. My heart aches in ways I didn’t know possible seeing his kids try to grasp the reality of this loss. There will be a void there that can never be replaced. As a mom, we want to shelter our kids from hurt. Knowing that there is nothing any of us can do to take this hurt away is almost unbearable.

Larry was out of the house by the time I was born, so needless to say we had a different relationship. It wasn’t a typical brother / sister relationship I guess, but honestly… I don’t know what is typical anymore. Yes, I reached out more in the past two months to Larry than I ever have before. I imagine he would have done the same thing had the tables been turned. When you are faced with a loved one dying, I can only think that is the natural thing to do.

You might expect my message to everyone out there is to hold on tight, give more and don’t let time get between you and a loved one… and although I think that is extremely important, I have an even bigger message I want to share.

Plain and simple, give grace. Give grace and accept each other for what you are. I know in the end my brother and I were accepting and at peace with our relationship. No, it wasn’t a perfect relationship. We have faults, we’ve both made plenty of mistakes over the years however as my friend Wendy so eloquently put in a recent blog post:

“And I pondered how life isn’t perfect. How I’m not perfect. How those I love aren’t perfect. But how loving them…fully loving them warts and all…is somehow perfect, especially when faced with the possibility of not having them.”

As you are contemplating your own relationships… your own life with your friends and family, please take a moment to forgive and give a stretch of grace to those who haven’t lived up to your expectations. In our heart of hearts I know that we are all simply doing the very best we can.

I have a greater appreciation for my brothers and sisters, my parents and the rest of my family because of going through this. We’ve opened up and had conversations with each other that very well might not have happened otherwise. We’ve loved, laughed, cried and most importantly, we have forgiven. I hope you will reach out to the ones you love and do the same.

I am touched and humbled by the outpouring of love from all of you. It has lifted me up in a time full of sorrow. I can’t begin to express my gratitude in a way that will convey how much it has meant to me. Thank you…I feel so blessed.

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You’ll have to excuse me for this one post, as there is nothing food related involved.

You may remember a post I wrote last September about my friend Ann and her heart touching vow renewal ceremony with her husband, Hal, of 10 years. Ann, if you will recall, had been facing a brave battle with cancer for the past 9 years. This past Saturday, July 17th, Ann was taken from our world and is now in heaven, I am sure relieved to be rid of the illness that has been inflicting her body for the past 9 years.

This past Wednesday evening was her visitation. Instead of getting a babysitter, my husband and I decided to split up. He’d go first, come back home to watch the kids, and then I would go. As I was standing in the long line, a true testament to how much Ann was loved, I started to get frustrated with myself. “I should have just gotten a babysitter. I want my husband with me. This is not the kind of thing anyone should have to do alone.” Even though I was surrounded by friends, I wanted Nick, my rock, with me more than anything.

As I got closer to the front of the line where Hal was standing, I looked up and noticed him, standing all by himself, accepting the condolences of friends and loved ones. “This is not the kind of thing anyone should have to do alone.” His plus one, his shoulder to lean on, his best friend, his parenting ally… his person who should be doing this type of thing with him is gone. It just isn’t right.

Watching Hal and Ann over the past nine years, as they have faced cancer head on, has been one of the most incredible things I have ever witnessed. As I reflect back on what Ann and Hal have taught me through their example of faith and love, there are a few key things that I will take away from having the honor of knowing Ann.

• Always have faith. Always. Ann’s faith in God through her battle with cancer has been unrelenting. With every dose of suffering, she accepted it and gave it all up to God. If you want to be touched forever by her incredible faith, all you have to do is go to the final blog post she was able to write on July 4th, 2010.
• Value your friendships. Ann was always one of those people who truly made time for her friends. Even though she was feeling crappy. Even though she may not have been up for it. Ann knew the value of friendship and made her friends a priority in her life. It was witnessed yesterday in the rows and rows and rows of pews filled with people mourning her death at the funeral. From her closest of friends in the front row, to those of us who were lucky enough to call her a friend scattered throughout the church, there is not a single person who knew Ann who won’t say that watching what unfolded over the past 9 years was not a true testament to the value of friendship.
• Be real. Ann was about as real and authentic as it gets. She didn’t try to be someone else. She didn’t mince her feelings. She was real, honest and raw.
• Be courageous. In the face of death, she showed an incredible amount of courage. In the face of cancer, she showed an incredible amount of courage. Many times, we’d all wonder, “how can she be so strong?”, but she was. She was one of the most courageous women I have ever met and I will forever be reminded of her strength, especially when I am feeling whiny and pathetic.
• Have fun. Ann turned shaving her head into a big party and then transformed herself into “Foxy Roxy” with her pink wig. Her laugh was infectious. There is no doubt that Ann knew how to have fun. Sometimes, attitude is everything, and Ann proved that to be true each and every day.

I hope that, even though many of you didn’t know Ann, you will take a look through her blog and be touched by her faith, courage and love. She will be deeply missed but always remembered.

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Amy stopped by yesterday to deliver the cupcakes I had ordered to support the cause. Since I knew Amy’s idea was very popular and she was going to get a lot of orders, I expected to have just very simple, frosted cupcakes arrive. When she showed me what she had made, I was floored. Aren’t these the most beautiful cupcakes ever? Of course, I had to get my camera out and photograph them right away! I am so impressed with Amy’s attention to detail, her delicious cupcakes, and her willingness to put in so much time and effort to help Ann and her family kick cancer in the teeth. She has truly inspired me to try and figure out what I can do to lend a hand to Ann’s family.

If you are local and are interested in ordering some of Amy’s delicious cupcakes, you have until the 7th of August to do so. Please send an email to aloehr4 <at> kc.rr.com and mention you read about this on Dine & Dish. If you are from out of town and are simply interested in donating money to help the Schierts family, contact me and I will get you in touch with the appropriate place to do that. There is no one more deserving of this kind of generousity on this planet than the Schierts family… I can promise you that!

Helen from Tartelette is the Snapshot Spotlight guest over at Culinary Snapshot. Make sure to check out her tips and tricks for taking great food photos!

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We lost a friend to cancer yesterday afternoon. Crissy was the wife of one of my husbands high school best friends. She had a daughter, Gracie, six years ago and then found out just shortly after that she had cancer. Cancer has been a part of her life since then. Crissy fought a very valiant fight… always keeping things real and soldiering on.

Tonight, as I reflect on Crissy and her life, I cannot help but think what power cancer has over people. The power of cancer is a scary thing.

• Cancer has the power to make a woman who is full of life… outgoing, boisterous, and funny… lose all of her external spark and vibrance.
• Cancer can make a mother, who knows that her time is short and fearing the memory of her will be lost, plead with people around her to “No matter what, please let Gracie know I was a great mom and I loved her very much.”
• Cancer has the power to make a man throw out the notion that showing emotion is not acceptable. Distraught at the thought of life without his partner, cancer has the power to make a man overcome with the desire to make things better and to wish that he could do anything to turn back time. A widower at the age of 34, cancer has the power to make us all realize how truly unfair life can be.
• Cancer has the power to make a husband cling to his wife. After spending time and being witness to what his friend is going through, cancer has the power to make a husband plead with his wife “no matter what happens, please don’t die before me.” Cancer makes us realize how lost we would be without one another.
• Cancer has the power to make a precious six year old girl, who has never known her mom without cancer, be forced with the harsh reality that this time it is different. Mommy won’t be coming home with you tonight to tuck you in and dry your tears.
• Cancer has the power to bring people together, to fight for the cause and to hopefully bring a cure home soon. Like the LiveSTRONG day A Taste of Yellow Event, hosted by winosandfoodies…I can guarantee the food blogging community will do their part to raise the awareness of the devastation and power of cancer.

I know that Crissy is now a spunky, beautiful angel, lighting up heaven’s gates. Crissy will be missed by all who knew her, and will be remembered for her strength, smile, character and most of all… the impact she made on her daughters life in the short amount of time.

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