Yippee Ki-Yay, Motherfuckers!

It's been three weeks since Karen left us and we still are ambushed daily by new ways we miss her. Just last night, I was filling in Miranda on Chris Isaak (we had heard a bad arrangement of Wicked Game) and I immediately wished Karen were around so she could launch into her rant about Mr. Pretty Boy whining about being lonely while surrounded by topless supermodels. It's the countless small things like that which upset our equilibrium multiple times a day. Bigger things--like the ongoing ordeal of cleaning out her closet and dresser--just smash me flat and leave me near-mute for hours.

Speaking of my voice...I think it's about time I shut up.

I started this blog three years ago to keep family and friends informed on the shifting state of Karen's health and our family's efforts to deal with it. While I've always done all the writing--usually without any sort of consultation with Karen--it was always my feeling that this blog represented both of our voices. With hers now silenced, it seems wrong to continue.

And frankly, that story has come to a close. I don't know what story lies ahead (I'm betting it's a protracted horror tale), but I know its place is not here. And probably not in another blog because I'm disinclined to write something I personally wouldn't bother to read.

And so, on behalf of myself, my kids, and Karen, I bid you all a fond farewell. I will never be able to adequately thank everyone who helped us endure the last three years. For everyone that pitched in on the Meal Train to all the folks that helped distract me with Words With Friends games to the poor souls that actually talked to my woebegone self on the phone periodically, I extend my deepest, most heartfelt thanks.

I hope that no one who has read this blog ever has to go through this.

I hope that if you have to, you have the great good fortune to do it with a person as unflinchingly brave and unconditionally loving as Karen.

I hope to find my way out of this mess and into the life that I know she wanted for me.

Yippee Ki-Yay, motherfuckers. Rock on and die hard.