Castle in the Clouds

My updates here on the blog were almost non-existent during Ken's cancer diagnosis and treatment. I realized this today when I was looking back through some of my previous posts.  I've only written a handful of times about what the beginning of 2021 looked like for our family.  Our rough start was written almost three months into Ken's journey. Then I shared a bit in early May about the ups and downs of pancreatic cancer . A little over a month after that post, I put up a brief  announcement  regarding Ken's passing.  Writing about Ken's cancer here was difficult for a few reasons. First and foremost, he didn't want to plaster the news all over social media because he didn't want complete strangers reaching out. So we created a Facebook group for our family, friends, and coworkers. It was there where he and I most often posted about things.  Funny enough, the man was so well-loved, that group had over 100 members. I made my first post there on February 6, 2

It's been just a little over five months now since I lost my husband to pancreatic cancer.  In some ways, it feels so much longer.  It feels like an endless stretch of days without his input or guidance, his problem-solving skills, his companionship. I miss his laugh. His hugs. I miss watching television together, camping trips, and family vacations. I miss our talks about work, the kids, the grandbaby, and life in general. I miss him. I miss our life together.  Strangely, I cry less now.  But it takes longer to fall asleep.  There's a part of me that feels bad that I don't cry as often or as easily as I first did.  My tears seem to be held in reserve, appearing only when I stop to think about how much he is missing.  The main triggers are our boys and grandson. When I stop and think about how much Ken would have loved being able to be here and take part in their lives, my control lapses. It always makes me recall those heartwrenching conversations we had in his last few mo