Finally

Houghton College (“HO-tin;” not “who” or “how”), my alma mater, where I met my beloved wife 46 long years ago, has finally published an obituary in its magazine of her sad passing.
My wife of 44 years died April 17th of this year, after a five-year battle with cancer.
It was up-and-down. Sometimes it seemed like she was in remission, but the cancer always came back. It was cancer of the lymph-nodes, although she also developed breast-cancer treating the lymphoma. Lymphoma-treatment lowers your immune-system.
Which is why we couldn’t do trials. Only a single cancer qualifies.
We tried various chemos. Only one worked, and it was the most toxic.
We had to stop using it for fear of causing heart-damage.
With that the lymphoma killed her.
I think the college’s magazine publishes every six months. Which means there was probably a Spring-Summer issue in June.
Since she was an alumni, I apprised them almost immediately, yet there was no obituary in the June issue.
A friend rightly suggested they weren’t a newspaper, like where I once worked, beholden to that day’s events.
“Give ‘em time,” he said. “It’ll probably be in the next issue.”
My wife, like me, was Class of ’66.
Apparently she chased me the whole time I was at Houghton, but I didn’t become aware of it until my Senior year.
After graduating we stayed in contact, and I moved up to Rochester (NY) to be near her.
We eventually married, although both of us feared the decision; she beforehand, me afterward.

Photo by BobbaLew.

My beloved wife Linda (this is over 40 years ago, but the image of her always in my head).

I used to tell her I coulda done a lot worse — that I got an exceptionally good one. She wasn’t smashingly attractive, but attractive enough; that is, not ugly or gross.
Nineteen years ago I had a stroke, which debilitated me. She sprang into action, taking care of me.
I have since pretty much recovered.
When our roles reversed with her cancer, I sprang into action myself. —I couldn’t help it. I was extremely lucky, and wanted to keep her around.
I remember looking at a cancer-scan on a computer monitor. It was fearsome. It looked like she was on fire.
Cancer seems to always win, killing its host, and thereby killing itself.
I still cry most every day.
I suppose I’m no longer devastated like I was last June, but the college-magazine obituary got me crying.

• “Hospeace House” is a hospice, Naples a small village about 20-25 miles south of where I live.
• They spelled Thompson wrong; it’s “Thomson,” no “p.”
• “Houghton College” in western New York is from where I graduated with a BA in 1966. I’ve never regretted it, although I graduated a Ne’er-do-Well, without their blessing. Houghton is an evangelical liberal-arts college.