In loving memory...

Dave

Today marks a very sad day in my life & the life of my family. Five years ago today my brother-in-law, Dave died at the age of 40. For over 3 years he struggled to beat Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Unfortunately, the cancer was just too aggressive & he couldn't fight it any more. 5 years seems like such a long time, yet at the same time, it feels just like yesterday.

Below is a journal entry I made 2 years ago. It still makes me cry every time I read it.

April 27, 2004

Three years ago today was the saddest & most surreal day of my life. I woke up at my usual time to get ready for work... walked downstairs into the kitchen & started to fix myself a bowl of cereal. A minute later my dad walked into the kitchen & said "David is dead. He died about an hour ago." Then he walked out of the kitchen & back to his bedroom. No hug, no "everything is going to be ok", no nothing. I stood there by the kitchen counter... bowl full of cereal... jug of milk in my hand... & I couldn't move. I thought to myself, "Did he really just say what I think he said?" I could hardly believe my ears. It was so surreal. But it was true... after 3 long years of fighting cancer, Dave was dead at the age of 40. He died in the arms of his wife, in his own bedroom, overlooking the bay where he sailed so often, watching the sun rise.

David J. Mulford was my brother-in-law. But he was so much more than that. He was my brother... period. He was the most perfect addition to our family. I met him when he was 23 & I was 12. Other than my brother Dan, Dave was the only person in my family to never treat me like a kid... even when I was one. He genuinely wanted to know about my life, the way I felt about things, what made me happy. He taught me how to sail & how to appreciate the wonderful little things life had to offer. He always believed in me. Even though he was a grown up, he was always still a kid a heart. He never forgot how to have fun, and whenever possible, he included me in it all. He also helped bridge the gap between me & my sister. Some of my favorite simple memories involve Dave...

• Christmas time w/ a house full of family & the 2 of us lying on the inflatable mattress upstairs w/ a big bowl of popcorn, watching the Godfather 1 & 2 (NEVER the 3rd one!) back to back.
• The look on Dave's face when my mom would bake.
• Playing video games with him for hours.
• Fun & silly phone calls on my birthday (actually, the last time I talked to him was on my 30th birthday, just a few weeks before he died).
• The summer after I graduated high school spent in Long Island learning how to sail... & many summers after that spent out on the water w/ him & my sister.

God... so many memories. They're all flooding back.

I still remember the day we all found out he had cancer. He'd gone to the doctor because of persistent back ache. X-rays showed it was a tumor that was wrapped around his spine. He was in surgery that very same day. It was mind boggling how fast it all went. Suddenly he was in for so many more tests, MRI's, & who knows what other types of scans. They found over 20 tumors throughout his body, in all his lymph nodes & stomach. He was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma & his prognosis was not very good. He underwent immediate radiation therapy, which helped reduce several tumors in size. He was also able to get in on the very beginnings of new drug therapy. It helped give him 3 more years of life. 3 more years with my sister... 3 more years with our family & his family. In that time, my sister gave birth to their 1 & only child, Christopher. He got to see Christopher born, take his 1st steps, speak his 1st words, & take his 1st trip on the boat.

I remember the last time I saw Dave. It was the fall of 2000. He could still walk, he still had all of his hair, he could still eat without getting sick, & still had his wonderful sense of humor. It was also the day he started his 1st round of chemotherapy (his last resort in his eyes). From that day on... things never got any better. Things just got worse. I never saw him when he lost all the weight, when he lost all his hair, when he could no longer walk, & no longer keep any food down, when he was hooked up to so many different machines & monitors. Sometimes I think of that as a blessing... other times as a curse. It was almost like if I didn't see it, then it couldn't really happen. He would forever be that happy, healthy man in my mind. Even though I knew he was going to die soon, that nothing could be done... to actually hear those words "David is dead" came as such a surprise.

I'd never had anyone close to me die before, so I'd never been to a funeral before. When I saw Dave in the casket at his memorial service, I hardly recognized him. He was so thin & frail, yet looked like he was simply sleeping. He looked like he did whenever he napped on the couch... wearing his favorite jeans, t-shirt, sweatshirt, & baseball hat, & wearing his glasses. Next to him was Redford's favorite fetch ball, & Christopher's favorite book that he read to him every night. I found myself wanting Dave to wake up & tell me it was all just a dream. That's when it finally sunk in. He was really gone. That's when I finally lost it... when I finally broke down & really, REALLY cried.

Sometimes this all feels like it was so long ago... yet like it was yesterday at the same time. Sometimes I even forget that he's gone. I'll see something or hear about something & think, "Dave would get such a kick out of this. I should call him or send him an e-mail", or I'll walk into his house & expect to hear him coming down stairs to greet me w/ one of his trademark hugs. It's cruel how your mind can do a thing like that to you. I wonder if it will ever get any easier?

Tonight I'm going to go home & look through old pictures & drink a toast to Dave. He brought such love, laughter & joy to my life & to the life of everyone that knew him. Something like that should be celebrated.

Dave was my reason for joining Team in Training. When I ran the Alaska marathon last year, he was right there with me, right on my back, in the form of a laminated photograph, as well as in my heart. He will be there with me again as I run the Rock & Roll Marathon in San Diego in 5 weeks. He will always be there with me. His memory keeps me running. He is why I am raising money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. So if you could, please help me & go to my fundraising website & make a donation. Thanks.