(Written Christmas Eve...) Tonight, I left J at the hospital to spend my first night at home with the kids. Most of the oncology floor has been emptied out, so patients can be home for Christmas, so it was weird walking out through the empty, decorated corridors. Driving home was like driving back to reality. Actually, being out in the open air and seeing the sky seemed strange to me, but at the same time brings my soul instant relief and peace. The mountains looked like paintings with the clouds suspended motionless above them. Both were at a stand still, as if trying to catch my attention and get my heart to pause with them for a moment. It made me feel small, but in a comforting way...I still feel the tearing in my heart...as my family is forced apart during this awful time. I feel like the hospital is not "home" to us, and yet, I feel like a visitor in my own home during the short visits to grab things and see the kids. Again, I feel like the cancer has just brought so much loneliness into our lives. Our emotions keep going up and down, and being here we have already noticed how the days are blending together. Our whole existence seems to be contained within Room 752.

This separation has continued to bring so much loneliness into our lives and I see it in our kids too. It is physically keeping us separated now being at the hospital, but even when we were together before last week, I just felt like we weren't REALLY together. Before going home, I was already having anxiety leaving J. He felt my distancing, and pulled me next to his bedside, and said, "Honey, I feel like you aren't really here with me right now, what's going on?" I told him I was already worried about leaving him, and ran my hand softly down his shin and over his foot. He instantly put his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. I just kept on softly running my hands over his legs and feet, and his face was so relaxed and smiling! We then spend the next 45 minutes connecting in this way. I got to just touch him again, feeling close, and praying for his entire body for healing. He kept on relaxing more and more. It felt so healing to be able to lavishly pour out onto his beautiful body. I just miss being physically close to him. I miss sleeping in the same bed, being held inside his arms with my cheek against his chest (without a port and tubes), or just being close like that in any way. I feel like the cancer has robbed months from our lives, but during that short time, I feel like it had been restored.