Hi Sess,

Hi Sess,

As I sometimes do, I've taken a little bit to digest this news. I arrived home from work a week or so ago, had missed Max and Gavin who were already in bed, and went to kiss my beautiful wife. But knowing her as I do I also knew there was something wrong as soon as she turned to me. Naomi told me you had cancer and I tried to process the bombshell.

I'm still trying. In between diapers and deadlines I try to come to terms with the fact that I won't be seeing you at Christmas and why. I try to talk to you but instead leave a message. I tell myself I'm trying and then you're in chemo. Damn this thing is fast, but so are you. And so is the love you rally. I'm late to the blog but I join a crowd articulate in loving you.

I remember our summer in the Oregon sage when your neighbor (Vicki?) who lived near Asso's rock and wanted to get your Dad in bed (though we may not have been on to it at the time) drove us consecutive days to see Octopussy in the theater and we'd get home and try to figure out how to play at you being Miss Moneypenny and me being JB with a bicycle and tire swing between us. After that we had an adolescent standoff, but then you broke the ice and found that drivers licenses and and paying jobs have let us keep playing secret agent but on real ski slopes and European roads. Here's looking forward to the next mission.

Cuz