Sweet dreams are made of these

Very hard to believe it's been 5 years since our last healthy Xmas together, as by his last he was bedridden, and I couldn't bring myself to celebrate much at all. I regret that, and would have had everyone making as much merry as possible, but it just wasn't at the time. No gifts at all 4 years ago.
I did play Ken's favorite Xmas record, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas', by Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians, a big (swing) band. A big hit back in the forties, our folks played it every Xmas, and we were enthralled and entertained by it. Two tracks in particular were unique: their version of Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer, with hilarious sound effects, and the title track. It's is a very powerful and poignant rendering of Clement Clark Moore's poem, and always left us aching for Xmas to stay just an hour longer. I remember Ken 5 years ago saying how intensely sentimental he got every time he heard it, and I played it for him one more time 4 years ago as he sat unable to speak in front of the fireplace.
We lost the original LP, but Ken found cassettes for both of us in the '80s. He kept hunting for the LP version and finally hunted it down in the Village a few years later for $30, worth it just for Norman Rockwell's portrait of Santa and his elves sneaking around two siblings deep asleep in a big chair.

Parallel Universes

My first major was physics, and Ken took an interest in my studies years ago when I would discuss quantum physics with him. Of course, he read up on the subject and knew as much as I did within months.
Since then, the reality of parallel universes has no doubters among physicists, it's just a matter of agreeing what form they take (concurrent in the space we now occupy, or are they adjacent like soap bubbles, etc.). I wish I had talked about the subject with Ken.
You see, Ken had no doubt about God, yet he felt God could not be so simplistic as portrayed in popular Christianity.
The concept of parallel universes is very comforting when you understand its central tenet is that all possible realities are currently happening. So, if you can imagine ANY different reality, you can rest assured it's already coexisting in one of the infinite number of parallel universes. To put it another way, in one of them, Ken and the rest of my family are all alive and well and doing just fine, thank you. Only God could have come up with that idea.

53

Happy Birthday Ken. I remember how our birthdays would bookend the summer vacation, with mine at the beginning, and Ken's just as school started. That seemed such a great long stretch when we were kids. On certain summer days now, when I have the chance to sit down and look up at the clouds, I can't help but feel Ken should not have missed this one either. Guess that's just not the way it goes. Next time I will (seriously) introduce the subject of parallel universes, and why that has helped to reinforce my battered faith that we will all see each other again somewhere someway.

50

Yesterday, June 29th, I turned 50. This was something of a psychological point to pass through, as neither Ken nor our mother made it to 50. Given the disturbing coincidences of their passings, I couldn't help but be a bit superstitious as to whether I would make it myself. No reason to suppose I would after all. I intend to keep in mind that expecting another day on earth is laughable at best, and tragic at worst, though pray and plan on we must. In any event, I had a truly wonderful birthday party with friends and family, and I do thank them all.

Straight Talk is Healthier

From MSNBC: Most cancer doctors avoid saying it's the end. New research backs straight talk, casts doubt on 'keeping hope alive'
"Many people do not get such straight talk from doctors, who often think they are doing patients a favor by keeping hope alive.
New research shows they are wrong.
Only one-third of terminally ill cancer patients in a new, federally funded study said their doctors had discussed end-of-life care.
Surprisingly, patients who had these talks were no more likely to become depressed than those who did not, the study found. They were less likely to spend their final days in hospitals, tethered to machines. They avoided costly, futile care. And their loved ones were more at peace after they died."
Also, "Some doctors' groups are fighting the bill, saying it interferes with medical practice. But at an American Society of Clinical Oncology conference in Chicago earlier this month, where the federally funded study was presented, the society's president said she was upset at its finding that most doctors were not having honest talks."

go to http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25176326/

Surgery

So Teddy went ahead with surgery anyway... or did he? It was the family and friends worried about their own guilt that insisted on it you can bet, and when you're ill, you'll do anything, as you are supremely scared and vulnerable. It will only make Ted more miserable. How our vanity trumps all, even when someone we say we love and pray for should be left to die with dignity.

Teddy Kennedy

Teddy has a very similar, if not identical tumor as Ken did. Glioblastomas take no prisoners, so it was good to hear that he is not opting for surgery. Someone must have told him it won't help, which is true. However, he's still going through with chemo and radiation which is a big mistake, and will make no difference either, except to assuage the feelings of those 'loved ones' who will outlive him. Surgery is a breeze compared to the nightmare of those therapies, which ruined at least two of Ken's last remaining 7 months.
I do not mean to prescribe despair, but when it come to this type of cancer, wrist bracelets and prayers are for naught. Let the loved one go with dignity with as clear a mind as possible, and do not think about what others will say later on about how 'we did all we could'. It's not about your ego; it's about the few remaining months that need to be spent as well as possible. Certain other cancers respond well to surgery and those therapies, but not this beast. Medical science will catch up with this monster someday, but we're just not there yet.
Teddy has perhaps six months to go, a year if he's "lucky".

Three years on

This anniversary, I was not at home, but on a ship at sea. March 21st was on a full moon, as well as Good Friday. How strange...
While off the coast of Cuba on the way to Mexico, I was able to look out from our port balcony to view the full moon, and wonder/pray to Ken and dad on this forever-to- be haunting day. Will I die on this day too someday? I couldn't help but wonder.
It was all quite beautiful after all, with dolphins and flying fish serenading us, and the searing agony of the last few years finally given way to some peace of soul after all.
They were with me in a way I hadn't felt in years, and though I had toasted them both on St. Patricks's Day, the 21st was far more important after all. How I miss them so.

To Those Suffering and in Fear

Until now, this blog has been focused on my brother's life and death, and my mourning of his passing. I hope to, from now on, make this blog more helpful and uplifting, if not informative. I know full well, and have all along, how many others are going through the same ordeal. To a certain extent , I feel somewhat ashamed that I have mourned longer than anyone should be entitled to. On the other hand, I have found blogging to be a wonderful way to reflect, memorialize and, I hope, help others, if not anything more than to let them know you are far from alone.
I have added a few links to organizations researching brain tumors, and have no doubt that in the not too distant future, we will be able to stop them in their tracks, if not destroy them, before they have a chance to take away those we love so much. Stay strong,and keep the faith!

Time and Date.com

I used to use this website in my teaching, and returned to it again when I realized that Mom's and Ken's deaths were both around 49.5 years. I was curious to find out just how far apart they were. Using the calculators on this site, I found that Ken lived 20 days longer than Mom, and that Dad reached 49.5 in the middle of 1969.
I kept going to find out just when I would reach the same age as they did upon passing. I was the exact same as as Mom the day after this past Xmas, and today is the day I'm exactly the age Ken was on March 21st, 2005. Hence this entry.
It may seem a bit morose, but I find it very profound as well as disturbing. It's very strange to think of oneself as being older than your older brother, and certainly than your mother. Inconceivable, yet true. On top of that, I couldn't help but be a little superstitious, wondering if I would make it to 49.5 myself. After Ken's death, all bets were off.
I'd like to believe that this is one of the last hurdles I need to overcome in dealing with my grief. As noted below, it is not as persistent as it had been, but it still rears its sad, menacing head at times, and will certainly continue to do so. I did tell you that Dad and Ken died on the same day, 3 years apart. How can I not be haunted?
PS A great way to view Ken's photos is using a piece of freeware that enables you to view online photos in an amazing '3-D' wall, whether they're in a Google search, or Ken's Picasa pictures. You'll understand it once you try it. Go to http://www.piclens.com/ to download the browser add on. Then come back and try it after clicking on the Picasa link to Ken's pix on this page.