Unravel Cancer: Experiences with family battling cancer
15:02 The SpokenCoast Project -- The Invitation
The last few weeks have been really on the go...
Mickey's Final Memorial
I went out to Colorado to store my remaining possessions at my dad's house, and also to attend the memorial service for my brother at Beaver Creek, CO, where he worked as a ski instructor for many years. It was much harder than I expected. Maybe it was because the weekend was the last of the ski season there. Maybe it was because all the folks in Mickey's community there were really choked up, and miss him greatly.
Who knows -- but I was far more emotional than expected. Getting hammered on the ski slopes dressed up as a "cougar-in-training" and not eating much might have had something to do with it...but, nah!
All the folks in Mickey's mountain community were just lovely! Such gracious & beautiful people there, who just adored my brother. They showed me a good time - we drank together, danced together, and grieved together. They are all very supportive of my project, and were happy to see me. Some I had met before, and others I just met that weekend. We hugged, we smiled, we laughed, we cried, and we wished each other well, not wanting to leave after last call, not wanting to see my pickup pull out of town, just for one moment clinging to that magical bond Mickey had over all of us, that bond of smiles & good times, of love & laughter.
As I pulled onto I-70 in a sleet storm, I switched on the audiobook on my iPod immediately. Hearing the lilt of the actor's voice helped me keep it together on the drive. It was final. That was it. There were no more events to be had, no more pint glasses to clink. He's gone, and that's all there is to it.
The drive back through the deserts of Utah & Nevada were exactly what I needed. The wide expanse of sagebrush & dirt devils being whipped up in narrow valleys surrounded by bands of guards made of rock, keeping watch over coyotes and hawks, kept me sane. I didn't want to be around anybody, and that's exactly what happened. Thankfully.
All that space gave me room to breath, and just be. Back in Oakland, it was a whirlwind to zip up to Bear Valley for a mountaineering class, which was a ton of fun, and very educational. I learned all new techniques, and got banged up a bit on the self-arrest practice with the ice axe. It rained/snowed/sleeted the entire two days, but I didn't mind. I was outdoors all day making new friends, and learning things to keep me alive on the big peaks. What couldn't be perfect about that?
I also had a great leap on letting go of control. The person I carpooled with was late the first morning of class, and as I was rushing to get to the ski area from our lodges, lost control of the truck on the slick road. We fishtailed a bit, then slammed into a snowbank. All of us were ok: me, my carpoolmate, and Geena the pickup. A highway patrolman came a few minutes to check if we were alright. A tow truck came a few minutes after that. The tow truck driver said we were lucky because he had to come up there for another spinout an hour before. If he wasn't there, we would have waited an hour for him to drive up from the nearest town!
Because of this, we made it to the class on time! The instructors & other students were so gracious & concerned about our well-being. Something in what my companion said, made me realize I acted foolishly. Even though we were late, I used poor judgement on how fast I was going, and not engaging the 4WD. So, I apologized for that. I told my new friend I was sorry I put his life in danger by making poor choices. The entire morning, I didn't yell, I didn't point the finger of blame. I treated him like a human being that makes mistakes, just like me. Jeez - it's usually _me_ that's late all the time!
He was very touched by this. As a result, we had a wonderful heart-to-heart on the way back home Sunday night, and became friends. This is the flame of Mickey working through me. He was the one who was gracious, and treated people kindly when they messed up. It's sad that I'm learning this lesson from such a tragedy, but at least I'm learning it.
The SpokenCoast Project
The website is being built. The lead design guy just introduced me to a great PR guy who will help craft a marketing plan to promote the project. I'll be out of my apartment by the end of the week, and house sitting or couch surfing.
I'm in dire need of a lot of gear, and also a videographer to help me film the journey. But, at the moment, I'm focused on gathering up my remaining belongings into my truck, and making myself mobile. It's scary as hell, but the moment is here.
As I came across old papers to clean up, I found this poem that my dear friend Chelsea Griffie, my rock climbing mentor, gave to me. She often uses it in her wilderness training classes. It goes along with another poem, that she reads at the end of the journey. When my journey is over, I'll publish that one. But for now, here is the poem that starts the journey off:
--Oriah Mountain Dreamer (an Indian Elder)
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain!
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
Labels: Beaver Creek, cancer death, desert, grief, loss, mountaineering, poetry, roadtrip, skiing
09:28 Fear: When your mind & body are not aligned
After Monday's teeth-gnashing about climbing, etc., I decided to do something about the extremely intense emotions that were swirling around my head. I went to a get a psychic reading at a school in San Francisco.
A few weeks back I went for a "mini-read", where a lady scanned my belly because I've had a tremendous amount of stomach problems. The energy shifted was so strong, I could feel it! The next day my stomach felt great, and my legs which were sore from running felt totally healed. It was incredible.
So, I went back two night ago for a 2 hour session. What's great about this school is they don't tell you about your future or try to predict things, or give advice on your health. They just tell you what is being revealed in your aura, then help interpret the images.
Apparently, I've had many, many past lives. In many of these lives, I've come to a violent death. The fear of my body failing in a violent way was what I've been carrying with me. This could all be metaphor, mind you, but the fact is it put an image on the fear I've been holding.
I learned a lot of other things, like my fear of romantic relationships, and a very deep rejection of my body. The healing session was quite powerful, and when I left the room, and sat in their break room, my body began to spontaneously move & "unwind", especially in my neck & shoulders.
After hearing from the psychic people my rejection of my body in this lifetime, I felt guilty. I asked my body for forgiveness, and apologized to it.
Yesterday I went for a cranio-sacral massage with the lady I've been seeing for a few years. She was able to make tremendous progress on my left shoulder, and the sticky fascia there. I really _desired_ to be free, something the psychic panel who "read" me said also.
Yet here I am, after a very long night's sleep, struggling with the muscular habits in my shoulder & neck. I tried to limit my computer use yesterday, and also not carry my backpack hardly at all. I was trying to be gentle.
What I'm learning is there is a split between my conscious mind who is totally psyched and ready for my journey, and ready to conquer new things like this mountain climbing stuff. And then there's my unconscious mind, or aura, or whatever you want to call it, that is paralyzed & gripped with fear. This is what is showing up in my body.
So, I guess it's going to take a while for my body to catch up. It's hard to be patient.
During the start of the healing session, the panel of psychic people ask me to say my name to give them permission to heal me. When I did this, the lead lady was confused and asked me to say my name again. Was I resistant to these healings? Did I not really want to let go of the fear? Why? My body seems to be saying I didn't let go of it all.
This is causing me some pretty severe desperation. It almost seems like the fear is some other kind of entity that's hijacked my being, like it's a monkey on my back. How do I shake this? How do I get through this to keep moving forward with the trip? How do I keep up my training without injuring myself because my body is resistant?
If I can find a way to be gentle, accept my body for where it's at, then maybe it'll be less scared. Today I plan to take it easy, just pack up stuff for storage and prep for tomorrow's yard sale. Maybe run an errand or too. And, I allowed myself to sleep in, even though I woke up exhausted. The reason? My dreams were full of fearful scenes...
Labels: body, fear, mountaineering, psychic healing, Psychic Horizons
08:54 Mountains reveal desperation, grief
The last week has been a whirlwind. I've learned a lot about what it takes to climb a mountain. My physical limitations have hit me smack in the face. My pal & I tried to summit Mt. Tallac last Thursday & failed because we both got so wiped out. Then I hiked out to Little Round Top at Carson Pass, but, didn't go all the way because of weather & stamina.
Both situations humbled me deeply, and I began to question whether I could climb Denali in 2011. I now accept that I can't.
But, during that Carson Pass trip, I came to a place of great acceptance & enjoyed & delighted the situation & the scenery, even though a big snowstorm blew in.
So, I'm trying to reconcile in my own mind & heart whether I can climb mountains. I'm trying to not beat myself up for moving Denali to 2012. This entire last month of training has taught me that I'm incredibly hard on myself. I knew this already to some degree, but this is a new version revealed.
What do I do now?
Last night some folks from my yoga class went out for a drink & bite to eat. One really great gal ended up talking with me at length, as she lost her mother last summer & was still coming out of it. She mentioned to me that my life is my own to live, and that nothing I do will bring my brother back.
I stink at hiking and mountaineering. My ankles & feet are bad. My brother's atheletic ability was beyond human it seemed. Just look at this photo of Mickey & his buddy Nick at the top of a Peruvian peak:
Mickey, on the right, looks like he just stepped out of a spa. He's happy, smiling, raising his axe high, his cheeks are flushed with a great color, etc, etc. His pal Nick, on the left, is barely raising his axe, still has his pack on because he probably only just got up to the summit where Mickey was waiting, and looks a little more peckish & not great coloring. (Saying this with love, Nick!)
The point is, Mickey was a flipping mountain goat. High altitudes & long hikes made his body feel good. He was excellent at this kind of activity. My body doesn't like this activity.
But, will I let him, and all his buddies at the services, down, if I don't climb the peaks on the list?
The whole situation with what it'll take to climb Denali, the courses, the fitness commitment, the training, the practice hikes, etc. burns my gut. I've actually been quite pissed off these last few days. I'm angry because this isn't happening as smoothly as I had hoped. Glacier classes for Rainier are full up, causing schedule crunches, & are way expensive. Other Shasta glacier classes are interfering with the WFR I want to take.
The whole endeavor has just become a giant hassle. Trying to fit in all this training AND prep for "my" trip (the interviews) has been super insanity inducing.
But, something is compelling me to do this. Something tells me I _have_ to. If I don't complete the climbing list, then I'll be letting my brother down, I'll be a chicken, and the whole community of people I talked to at the services will think I'm lame - right?
What might be also happening here is that I'm changing. My ability to handle the snowstorm on Carson Pass even surprised me. I'm going with the "flow" more, as previously noted, and great things are happening. Is my desire to not climb these peaks a way to stop myself from the changes that will come as a result?
What I said to the yoga class friend last night was that two things will happen if I go through with these climbs:
1) My mind will completely change; my outlook on life & attitude will be transformed
2) I'll face the fear of my own death.
These are not bad things. I sense my anger is a resistance to these 2 things. It could be that creeping adder called Fear, too, that's trying to put the breaks on. But, on the same token, all this training, these classes, are a lot. And, more to the point, I'm not living my life the way I want. I'm totally stressed about "fitting in" all this stuff before I launch on the trip, and "getting done" these climbs/classes/etc. It doesn't feel fun. This is not what I want my trip to look like or feel like.
So, I'm at a crossroads, and there's a tremendous amount of guilt welling up. I just don't know what to do. But, my ankles have totally rebelled from all this training. I mildly sprained my left ankle on the very first training run 3 weeks ago, and have been in denial of it. Then my right inner arch sprain was re-ativated after my training walk on the stairs on Monday. My body is saying "no", and I'm pissed because my mind & heart are saying "yes" to all this.
I simply don't know what to do. More will be revealed, I guess. But, one thing is I don't want to force myself into a Rainier course on April 23rd. It's too soon, I don't have any of the gear, and I have to be out of my apartment at the end of the month. This leaves me only between today & leaving for CO on Wed to vacate. It's too much.
I'm trying to learn how to care for myself through all this. I'm not very good at that either. How is all this gonna work? Right now it just feels overwhelming & scary.
No solutions in today's post, folks. Sure wish there was...
Labels: anger, cancer, Denali, fear, mountaineering
21:45 More on cancer grief: letting go, being in the "flow"
I can't begin to describe how amazing my life has become in such a short time. The death of my brother, while hard, has lead to incredible things manifesting in my life.
Truth be told, I forgot to mention in my last post that I felt a lot of loneliness this last week. It was that familiar old "woe is me" despair from the last two years. I'd often feel it after returning from a visit with my mom or my brother. It was me trying to fill a "god-sized hole" with another person, to take the emptiness & loss away.
After a couple days, I realized this, and took steps to get my mind out of that whirlpool, primarily by attending 12-step meetings. It worked, as it always does.
Meanwhile, yesterday was my best running day in 2 years! Or even ever!!
I increased the Cleveland Cascade stairs from 4 laps to 6, with jumping 2-steps on every other lap. Then, I ran up the Merritt Ave. hill _four_ times! Previously I could only do 2 laps. I didn't have to wait as long to recover in between hill laps, and my stamina lasted longer for more of the run up. In 2 weeks time, my body has improved drastically. Mountains - here I come!
But the _best_ was today:
1) Went on a fabulous hike with my mountaineering pals, & got amazing new good advice on the trip. Plus no rain, spectacular views of the ocean from our Santa Cruz mountain trail, and abundant laughter.
2) THEN - I met a lady who answered my ad for needing a housesitter. We talked for an hour & a half because of the amazing serendipity of our lives. She is also getting back into outdoor life with climbing, skiing, and back country stuff. She is _also_ an aspiring writer. AND! She _also_ wants to do a project where she travels a long distance & interviews people for a book...JUST LIKE I'M DOING. We nearly fell off our chairs at the amazing connection. She turned me on to CouchSurfing.org, a place to meet locals while traveling- JUST the thing I need for my trip, as well as, the last 2 months of my time in the bay. Unbelievable.
But it gets better...
3) I just saw in my mailbox a letter from my new neighbors across the driveway. They rented the apartment my old roommate & I recently vacated. (I now live in the building next door). I told them about still getting mail there, & where to stick it. The letter contained my _driver's license_ that I dropped JUST THE DAY BEFORE, while on my run up & down the stairs!!! Can you believe it? I was so heartbroken that I dropped it, and spent 45 minutes retracing my run, scanning the ground like a mad fool.
Blessings to the angel who returned my ID.
Blessings to my new neighbors who stuck it in my mailbox.
Blessings to the housesitting lady who turned me on to the couch surfing community.
Blessings to the three ladies who creatively collaborated with my project while sharing great times in the woods.
Blessings to the heavens for sparing us rain for 6 glorious hours.
Blessings to the cop who didn't stop me while speeding to get on the San Mateo bridge this morning.
Blessings to my old neighbor for inspiring me to step into the universal flow.
Blessings to all people who make this eclectic, incredible, amazing, hectic, beautiful world a place to enjoy!
Onward ho's! (Our new Girl Power Shasta Extravaganza lead-off!)
Labels: couch surfing, driver's license, flow, Joy, life, love, manifesting, mountaineering, running, serendipity
07:38 Post-death grief ruminations & life happenings
Life is so rich & full when you're not working. Wow, am I lucky.
The grieving process has been relatively smooth. I say that with a bit of tongue in cheek but not much. After losing 2 grandparents in 2008, then the on-going serious of emotional losses with my mom & brother's cancer, this grieving process feels pretty comfortable. On a hike the other day, I told my pal I was becoming a "black belt in letting go". What else can I do at this point? Certainly I don't want to remain miserable.
Another pal who recently lost her mom to cancer, said she went to a grief group at a hospice place in San Francisco. The leader said if your emotions were bouncing around all over the place, you were in a "normal" state of grief. If your emotions got stuck on one in particular, that was a bad sign.
So, my grief is "normal" - woo! Something going my way for a change. The ups & downs have been significant. Many people have offered words of support. Even just going to a poetry reading was supportive. One reader had many poems about her dad getting Alzheimer's. These touched me deeply.
One gal at a get-together I went to last week, mentioned how the grief would get better when I was able to let go of my brother's horrific suffering, and just remember him when he was healthy. She said it might take a long time. This insight was so comforting. When I left the party, I could barely get back to my car before the waterworks hit. It was the first time since I came home from the services where I felt "seen", with all that I brought to the table. That moment was a gift from the heavens.
So, all in all, it's been good. Everything is good, even the tough moments.
Meanwhile, I'm full bore into this project to climb several peaks in my brother's honor. I'm been training heavily the last 2 weeks. This helps to elevate my mood, and is giving me a sense of accomplishment.
Part of the trip is interviewing people for their stories of transformation that inspire hope. When I did my first interview the other day, it was like coming home. The delight & joy & honor I felt at witnessing my friend tell her amazing story was overwhelming. Finally, I've moved past having a "career", and into a "calling". I can't begin to describe how lucky I feel.
I'm so thankful that I listened to those primal voices inside urging me to do what was best for me, and the universe opened up to welcome this manifestation.
So stay tuned for more on this project. The webpage will be up in a couple weeks. I'll also be hopefully getting a kickstarter page for the fundraising. It's gonna be fantastic!
Now, off to hike 3 hours in the beautiful Santa Cruz mountains. My mountaineering pal who's been on Denali told me, "Embrace suffering. Get used to it. Invite it in, bathe in it." I've already had so much emotional suffering, that physical suffering is a welcome change of pace.
Labels: calling, cancer death, Denali, family cancer, grief, Joy, mountaineering
23:33 Paradise in a Chevy Malibu
The clearly overdressed woman glided down to the second floor baggage claim on the escalator, and saw a man holding a welcome sign with her Twitter handle. She smiled at the perfectness of it all.
Stripping off her hat & scarf in the muggy Orlando airport, they hugged.
"You brought the good weather with you," he said.
"I know. Do you know how many strings I had to pull to make that happen? You're welcome anyway." the woman replied flashing a smile that said mischief, charm, & grace all at once.
And thus began my journey to visit @bbryon (Bryon Beck) in Orlando after my brother passed away. We became internet friends last summer during the Stanley Cup for Cancer project. Until my arrival at the airport, we had never met face to face before.
Despite this, and the great mileage between us, Bryon has been a dear friend, a great support, and a stalwart hockey buddy through the last 9 months. As much as modern internet technology can keep a person alone at their desk, tapping away, it didn't work in this case. It was just wonderful to have a real, live face to put with the voice on the phone I heard for so many months.
Bryon was a gracious host. He could see the shellshocked look on my face when I arrived. He just let me be. Giving me space was exactly what I needed. The first morning I simply couldn't wake up. I was simply exhausted. We sat around a lot & watched movies & ate nachos. Finally, we made it to the beach, late Sunday afternoon after a debilitating trip to Walmart for an emergency swimsuit for me. Walmart is bad enough, but adding bathing suit shopping on top of it is agony.
At the beach, I ate crappy bar food then learned how to body surf. I did yoga on the sand, & sat & meditated to the sound of the waves. The salty ocean water in my hair felt great. The never-ending sandy crust on my skin was divine. Bryon even let me convince him to play putt-putt golf at the gator petting zoo place! Yes, I held a baby gator, and it didn't pee on me. I'm gifted with animals.
Other highlights included watching lots of hockey on an HD TV (it was pretty fantastic, I must admit), going to the Tampa Bay v Devils game (see photo above), and riding the Islands of Adventure rides to the point of nearly puking. The Dueling Dragons rollercoasters were our favorite. We agreed the blue one was best in the back, and the red one was best up front.
Bryon is not shy with his words, and neither am I so we did a lot of talking. This was actually the real highlight for me. We talked about life, about loss, about relationships, about guns, about work, about character, about integrity, and even about boogers. Well, it was mostly me that talked about boogers. It comes up a lot for me because I have a ton of them.
The weather was warm & sunny. The sky was light blue with big cotton ball clouds cruising all over the sky, absorbing & splitting off like feather-weight bumper cars. Despite Bryon's _insistence_ so, there was some truth to the paradise cliche.
The leather, saggy flesh of the retirees in his complex, shattered that notion, however. C'est la vie. One can't have it _all_, truly, now can one?
All kidding aside, it wasn't the weather or the rollercoasters, or the gator wrangling or the hockey that made it paradise. It was the friendship. It was being able to bounce something off someone & get a fresh perspective. It was being held in a calm & serene space without even having to be touched. It was knowing I had a shoulder to cry on, if I needed it. It was knowing we weren't going to talk about my woeful misfortune the whole dang time, but actually talk about fun stuff. It was delighting that someone was excited to show me around his neighborhood. It was the horrible puns & silly jokes we tossed at each other.
As I put my feet on the dash of Bryon's white Chevy Malibu hardtop ("I like to blend in", says Bryon), on our way to Tampa Bay for live hockey, I knew I really was in paradise. Thank you, @bbryon!
Labels: cancer death, Chevy Malibu, grief, Islands of Adventure, men's ice hockey, orlando, Tampa Bay Lightning
16:40 Michael Joseph Krupa (August 4th, 1968 - February 17th, 2011)
After a tremendous battle against cancer, and horrific pain, my brother Mickey passed away. Below is the eulogy I gave at his memorial services on February 21st, 2011. There was easily 150 people there, filling the room and beyond with love & good cheer, despite the sadness. I was lucky enough to hear stories about my brother that painted an even more prolific picture of him in my mind. Now, I can only hope that I can carry this bright spark in my heart to all those I meet, just like he did. He would have wanted me to live up to my potential in this way. Thank you, Mickey.
--Your Little Sister
First, a few announcements:
1) My mom sends her regrets that she was unable to come. But I know your attendance and outpouring of support for Mickey & his family would touch her greatly. Thank you for that.
2) I'd like to talk next about the sheet with markers at the table. I'm going to be travelling on a long trip, starting this summer. I asked Mickey what peaks he would climb if he was still able. We agreed on a list of 11 peaks, throughout the Pacific Coast of both North & South America. So, leave a message to Mickey on the sheet, and it'll be cut into 11 pieces. I'll leave a piece at the summit of each peak. As many of us can attest, sometimes the people that inspire us the most, are our next door neighbors, our football coaches, our siblings, or our ski instructors. So, thanks in advance for participating in this journey, dedicated to Mickey, and my luckiness to have him as brother.
From there, I'd like to add, as I grew older, I was able to appreciate my brother, Mickey. He was the one who wasn't afraid to break away, and carve out a really fantastic life for himself. He showed me how to live a life of joy, and share that with a community. This gave me confidence to strike out on my own path.
That's not to say every moment was great. There were many farts in the face, destroyed forts, and tickle torture sessions, to be sure.
But, no matter what, I feel the same as most of you feel: Mickey always wanted the best for everyone. I didn't just lose a brother; like you, I lost a friend. A friend that knew me my whole life!
As someone looking from outside this community in, I sincerely want to thank you all for being such great friends to Mickey, and encouraging him through this difficult battle, just like he encouraged you. Thanks for enriching his life, just like he enriched yours.
With that, I leave you with Mickey's last thoughts on Legacy. When asked what legacy meant to him, Mickey responded with these 4 things that make up a positive legacy. Thanks to Cassie for being scribe:
Legacy: What is legacy?
It means something left behind. What do you want that to be?
1. The Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It seems so simple, but very few people live by that, though we all want to.
2. Have fun! People shouldn't deny themselves of having fun. Make sure it's a part of your life.
3. Be kind, both to people and animals. It's very important to be kind to animals.
4. Robert Frost's poem The Road Not Taken. Think of me in this regard, particularly the unbelievable climbing trips to Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia. We're all afraid to die, but to do those kinds of things, you have to be willing to defy death.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
With that I'd like to propose a toast, “Long Live Mickey, in our hearts always.”
Labels: cancer death, grief, love, Mickey Krupa, siblings