Heroes are made in battles not wars

written by

kevin Jacobi

posted on

December 30, 2024

You never hear of hero stories in war, you hear of them and their heroic acts as part of engagements and battles - not war. Hell, half the time you don’t even know if the war was won or loss or did anyone care . But they remember the heroes.

My beautiful wife is a hero. She has fought gallantly for over a year through countless engagements and battles - all the while maintaining dignity, grace and even humor when there was nothing worth laughing about. She is the bravest woman I know, never giving her disease a break, ruthlessly pursuing it with every treatment or regiment.

O/A 27 December Cathy’s kidneys failed and all those numbers in CBCs that measure kidney function continued to rise … right off the chart. Countless hours trying to decipher the probability of success, time available and whether it got us closer to a better spot.

I will not forget Dr Ks discussion about bodily systems and how my battle worn brides had failed her, one after another they left her more vulnerable than before and how all of it had disintegrated a once clear path to a cancer treatment that offered some promise of a little more time.

On the morning of 28 December, I brought Cathy home….. granting her the one wish she expressed to me almost daily. I am such a slow learner.

She is home now, not how we had hoped for sure, but with help of hospice she is here and resting comfortably in her own home with people who love her.

For those who have followed Cathy’s journey, thank you for your prayers and encouragement throughout this long road.

You want to do something - we all do - and you still can. Say one more prayer for our battle angel - a prayer of strength and mercy as she fights this last battle.

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The Spring of 19 was a glorious time. Cathy and I had the house remodel behind us, having moved in just before Christmas a few months earlier. We were so excited to start working on our dreams. It was a busy time, trying to rotate sheep in half-fenced pastures. My wife was such a trooper—I’d drive posts, and she would equip herself with a bucket full of insulators, a hammer, and earbuds and take off—we were a fencing machine. Cathy and I fenced this whole farm in 2019 – me driving, her insulating and running wire. We were so excited to be doing it. At night we would crash, exhausted but fulfilled by a good day's work. I have fond memories of those days punkin’ – I did not deserve a girl as good as you and truthfully didn’t realize it at the time. I realize it now. I look back on this past year with anger – anger about what life did to you. I long for the days of returning home from work something and having you there to kiss and say – “hey babe how was your morning”. I long to see you again. That feeling never leaves me, ever. Somedays I run into something, and the great wall of water comes raging down again….... it is so hard to believe you are no longer here – no longer beside me. It is unfathomable sometimes. That Spring and subsequent Springs thereafter - I remember thinking, “This place is not so big…. it’s not big enough – the land, the home – all of it too small. Now without you with me – this place is a black hole of emptiness, and it is so big. I look out and feel swallowed by it all. With you I was a giant that could gaze upon my domain with prideful dreams …………without you I feel small and alone – fearful of the vast emptiness that lurks in every corner. Please visit me again – feel my nostrils with your sweet scent of spice one more time. I love you and miss you Punkin' Bread.

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