There is a quiet underlying sadness even in moments of joy. I'm trying to memorize special moments so I can recall them when I need them, and I will need them. Dennis can sense the sadness in me and I can sense the sadness in him. I am sad when I see his scars from surgery. I am sad when I see how chemotherapy has aged him 20+ years. I am sad when I think of the suffering he has yet to go through. I am sad when I think of the "last times". The last time he will see a son or daughter or grandchild. The last time he will see his brother or a sister, at least in this life. I can't let the sadness overtake me or I will miss out on " now".  I take in these precious moments, and yet the sadness is always there.

I can't bear to take down the willow nativity on the piano during all of this. Somehow I find it comforting.

At the last visit to the oncologist, we got a prescription for stronger compression hose (30-40). That has made a huge difference. Dennis can do things and have a life. The leg is still discolored.

In sacrament meeting we sang Come, Come Ye Saints. In many ways it pertains to this new journey that we didn't volunteer for. The words, "all is well" remind me of Duella and how she would try to comfort us with, "I'll be ok", as she was dying. I noticed Dennis couldn't sing the verse, "And should we die before our journey's through". I noticed a tear falling onto the music.