If there is one thing I am sure of... that is I am almost always strong when I am around other people.  I rarely cry when talking about Ty or any every day thing.  I think about Ty every second of every day, but when I am among other people I manage to hold it together very well.  I can honestly say that I enjoy company because of that fact.  I cry every single time I am alone in the car.  I cry every time I take a shower.  I cry when I walk into a supermarket alone.  I cry when I see something Ty would have loved, like the rainbow candy stick at the quick mart the other day.  I bought one for him.  It was silly, I know, but I don't know if I would have been more sad ignoring it and validating the fact that Ty is gone, or acting in denial and buying it for my five-year-old son who I will never get to give it to.  I decided to go the denial route and just buy it.  It's sitting on my kitchen counter and now I don't know what to do with it.  I promise you that if Ty was with

Today has been one of my worst days.  I went to bed feeling very heavy last night, I slept terribly, and I woke up knowing that today would be a struggle.  I threw myself into picking up around the house and talking with Lou about what we should do today, but I couldn't shake the pain.  I felt it creeping up on me and I just knew that the darkness was catching up with me.  I exploded in the car until Lou turned it around to take me home.  I fought with him over things that have nothing to do with Ty.... but my emotions and my anger had everything to do with Ty.  I was doing everything I preach against.  I totally stressed out over how much I had to do today... how Lou didn't even feed Gavin breakfast this morning... the dishes that were left in the sink.... why do I have to do everything?...  All of it was just my pain catching up with me. Lou dropped me off at home at my request so I could be alone.  I've been wrapped up in Ty's monster blankie and crying ever since,

Thanksgiving, 2011 It goes without saying that the holidays are the hardest.  Yesterday, my friend's daughter asked me "how many kids do you have?" and it was the first time I hesitated to answer... "two."  I am mad that I hesitated.  Ty is always mine no matter where he is.  I just feared that she might follow up with some additional questions and I am so glad she didn't.  On this day, we are supposed to focus and reflect on the things we are thankful for.  I think Lou and I are on the exact same page when we say that we are so thankful that we were given Ty regardless of how everything turned out.   But I found it really hard to remain gracious today.  Lou was much better at it.  He had beautiful things to say about Ty all day today, and because of that I awarded him his very first guest blog entry :)  That's right, Lou wrote a blog tonight.  I pasted it below, and I think it is amazing.  He really is the best Daddy in the world, and after a lon

Today was a good day.  I spent the whole day working on the Foundation.  Thank God I have this opportunity to throw myself into Ty's cause.  This is how Lou and I cope, and how we will survive. The first half of my day was spent brainstorming our upcoming activities with a kind, generous and passionate new friend who happens to be a terrific PR consultant (with lots of breaks in between just to talk about Ty, to laugh, to cry a little and share funny stories in general).  It was so good for me to get out.  The drive down to Yorktown was very similar to my morning routine drive to Phelps Memorial Hospital with Ty while he was getting hyperbaric oxygen treatment.  He has 60 treatments there over the summer, so it was a routine that is still very fresh in my mind.  I had a good, long cry on my way in.  The car is where I find myself crying the most, and I talked to Ty through my tears during the entire drive.  Makeup is a problem these days because it is always running after I dri

Sometimes I feel so down, that's all I can do is breathe until I snap out of it.  I received this in the mail today. It was written by Laura Bauer and published in Bereavement Magazine in 2001. I thought it was a good description of how it can feel to lose a child. You open your eyes, the nightmare is real Breathe in, breath out - try not to feel The weight presses down on your chest Your lost the one you loved the best You roll from the bed and continue to breathe How difficult now it is to believe As you stand, a panic enveloped your heart It comes from the days of being apart Breathe in, breathe out, it will subside As reality hits, and you know that your child died You shower and dress by pure will Your life has become one bitter pill Breathe in, breathe out, and concentrate Don't think, don't feel, don't contemplate As you pull the car out and begin to drive, Slowly you notice that you are alive Heading east, to y

"Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy." (thanks for this, Kathleen). Tonight was a beautiful night and the sky was filled to the brim with stars.  I couldn't stop thinking about Ty.  I've been so sad, which I know is normal, but Lou and I keep busy which I think helps us to remain as balanced as possible given the circumstances. When I gave Gavin his bath tonight, my pain caught up with me.  As I washed his hair, I did something I've never done before.  I concentrated on imagining that I was washing Ty's hair, instead.  Normally I would briskly rub Gavin's head and rush to rinse him so he could get back to playing, but tonight I lathered the soap through his curls with gentle swirls while he was acting out something with his toys.  I let my hands linger and I visualized where Ty's shunt was, where all of his scars were within his

I can't tell you how many stories I have received from others who have seen signs from Ty, and even more stories about their children saying things that are odd in the sense that they may be seeing or feeling a spiritual presence.  Maybe even Ty's.  It makes me feel so good knowing how many people out there are still thinking about Ty and seeing his signs. Children are said to be especially clairvoyant, and I believe it.  Not Gavin.  I think he is just in his own fun world, kind of oblivious to anything like that (here he is in a bag again, I posted the wrong photo earlier).   But Ty, he was very aware even before he got sick.  He was so special in every way, especially spiritually.  At such a tiny, young age, when there was so much in his life to be afraid of, he wasn't afraid.  I believe it is because he knew his guardian angels on a more tangible level that most of us can understand.  He saw them.  All the time.  I used to have to snap him out of his stares some

I developed a morning routine in this new life of mine.  After we get up, I spend two hours playing hard with Gavin before school.  Lots of super heroes.  Lots of running around.  Lots of hugs, kisses and tackles.  We laugh so much, and I'm really laughing!  My mornings are happy. Then I drop him off at school, and I usually start crying as I'm pulling away in the parking lot.  I think about Ty the entire way home.  When I get home, I look for Ty in his spot on the couch and I cry some more.  I never had time alone like this before and I don't know what to do with myself!  I need this time to grieve for Ty, it's probably good for me, and luckily I am usually able to snap myself out of it once the mess me and Gavin left behind from earlier starts encroaching.  I am a little obsessive about cleaning so that helps me wipe my tears and clear my head by throwing myself into thoughtless busy work around the house.  Then I get to work on the foundation and before I know it m

Iron Man was the costume choice of the day Yesterday, Gavin started telling me that he wants to die.  I mentioned that we have been reading a lot of children's books on coping and such, and many of them use that term (which is okay with me).  But when he uses that word in a sentence like that, I can't tell you what it does to my heart.  Gavin only wants to die in the context of missing Ty and wanting to be in heaven with Ty.  He says it with a smile.  Obviously he doesn't understand what it means.  He is three.  He thinks heaven sounds like a really great place, he loves God, too, so he thinks it would be fun to die.  When I told him that he will, but not until he is very old and has lived a fun filled life, he whines "No!  I want to die now!"  Oh boy.  How am I going to "un-do" this one? The hardest part of these conversations is holding back my desire to say "me too."  Because the truth is, now that Ty is gone, I do not fear death in

"These are the tiny humans. These are children. They believe in magic. They play pretend. There is fairy dust in their IV bags. They hope, and they cross their fingers, and they make wishes, and that makes them more resilient than adults. They recover faster, survive worse. They believe." I can't stop saying "I'm sorry" under my every breath.  Every minute of every day, that's all that is going through my head.  I can't believe Ty didn't survive.  I can't believe he is gone.  I miss him so much I can't possibly put it into words.  I am lost and so, so hurt, but the worst part of all is remembering how much he endured.  Thinking about all that he went through in his treatment, and how sorry I am that his cancer killed him after such a brave fight.  In the last two years, the only thing that kept me strong was "knowing" that he would be okay in the end.  That he suffered so much, but in the end he would be rewarded with a cha

Yesterday was Lou's birthday.  It was not a happy one, but we tried to make the most of the day.  We spent the day together, and went out to dinner with Lou's sister Debi and her husband Rich.  We laughed a lot, all things considered, and talked a lot about Ty (of course).  Instead of recapping the details of Lou's first birthday without Ty, Lou asked me to reflect on last year's birthday.  As some of you may remember, last year Lou turned 40 and he ran his first marathon in NYC that same day.  It was all for Ty.  Lou and Debi ran together for Fred's Team, a charitable team that raises money for Memorial Sloan Kettering (all of the money Lou and Debi raised was tagged specifically for pediatric cancer research).  This year one of Ty's nurses was inspired to run for Fred's Team as well, and I am sad that the marathon was cancelled (but of course, understand that it was completely necessary).  I was so proud of Lou.  26.2 miles is a really big deal.  He tr

I could bore you with the depressing details about today, but the story that best describes how I've been feeling all day can be told by simply recapping my bedtime conversation with Gavin tonight.  By the way, I just re-read this sentence and had to correct it because I had written "my conversation with Ty," on accident, instead of Gavin.  I call Gavin "Ty" at least 10 times a day.  I know that's totally normal and I have done it since the day he was born (just like my mom calls me Theresa - and even, Billy - sometimes), but it's not normal anymore when the other child passed away.  There is a severe pang in my heart every time it happens, and I have to focus on my tone of voice when I correct myself to try and sound as casual as possible - trying not to let Gavin notice the mistake.  Tonight, after our prayers, I reminded Gavin to say goodnight to Ty and to tell him how much we love and miss him.  "G'nite, Ty... I miss you... Mommy?  Ty&

Good morning, all.  I wrote this late last night, but Gavin woke up before I could publish... Lou and I woke up so early to get to the studio for the radio interview on WFAN.  The audio podcast hasn't been posted to the website yet, but as soon as it is I will share the link here and on Ty's Facebook.  Bob Salter was a very easy going interview, he asked nice, open-ended questions and he allowed me to share my thoughts on why it is so important to raise pediatric cancer awareness.  He was also very sensitive to our current situation and he allowed me an open forum to talk about Ty and what an incredible little boy he was.  I was so happy to brag about him like that on-air.  The interview was a half-hour long so we covered a lot of ground.  I think it went well.  Thanks to all of you who listened and shared your positive reviews :)   I told Bob that I would like to come back to the WFAN studio and he also promised to look into whether or not I can accompany him to a meetin

As you probably guessed, we have been out of power and internet for the week.  We just got everything back.  But, please don’t worry about us with regard to the storm. We fared just fine. Our beloved Long Beach, however, is devastated and that is a fact that has been very hard for us to swallow this week.  Long Beach was Ty’s home.  His favorite place.  I can’t tell you how many times Ty used to tell me, out of the blue, “Mommy, I memba the old how (“house,” in Ty speak).  I wub the old how.”  It was where he lived his life before cancer and it is where we all made the best friends imaginable.  Today, at a minimum, those friends’ basements are filled to the brim with water, their cars covered in heaps of sand, their entire homes are being prepared to be gutted and rebuilt (if the house is even fixable after all the flooding and destruction).  It breaks our hearts.  So many people we love are homeless and it is going to be a very long time before many of them can move back in.  Lou wen