Ring the Bell

Four years ago today, my beloved Brady celebrated an end to months of chemotherapy by ringing the end-of-treatment bell. On the ninth floor of Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh, he rang the bell signaling an end to having drugs pumped through his body, and it marked a beginning to a healthier and cancer-free life.

I remember the hope I had in my heart that day. I remember seeing Brady’s bright smile as he rang the bell. I remember hugging him while both of us cried blissful tears. I remember being able to FINALLY take a sip from his water bottle—a luxury I had not been able to indulge in due to months of sanitary cautions. I remember thinking: things will only get better from here. The worst days are behind us.

None of us knew on that day in February of 2017 that just one year later we would find ourselves at the same hospital hearing news of a relapse of the disease in Brady’s body. All of us assumed that February 24th marked the end of suffering and that only pain-free days would follow. While pain-free days did follow that celebratory day, the hardest and most heartbreaking days were still to come.

After Brady died in November of 2019, I had similar extreme and narrow-minded thoughts, except I made the opposite conclusions. I was certain that Brady’s last breath marked the end of my good life. I was sure that all happy memories during my time on earth had been used up. I thought: things will only get worse from here. The best days are behind me.

I was wrong both times. In February of 2017, I didn’t know about the trauma that remained ahead of me. In November of 2019, I didn’t know about the overwhelming peace and lasting joy I would receive in the aftermath of loss.

On the days you get to “ring your bell” to mark the end of a trying era, ring it proudly with enthusiasm. But realize that the happiness will not last forever, so enjoy the delightful moments while you can. On the days when you sign the paperwork for your husband to be cremated, cry and weep with sincerity, and don’t allow the world to steal your precious time to genuinely grieve.

Feel everything, all the time. And know, that although things will change, it is good and deeply important to receive the moments how they are and how they come. Sob and scream when you need to, and joyfully ring the bell when you can.