"Watch over us when my hands are tired"

We celebrated Benton's eighth birthday recently. Jordan and I have been parents for eight years! What a blur. We haven't lost or permanently broken a child yet. I think we are doing pretty well for ourselves. We spent his birthday weekend making him feel special. He was taken to the movies, got to eat his favorite meal (multiple hot dogs), had cake/ice cream with his friends, got miscellaneous presents and went to the science museum in Portland. We celebrated at every turn. I mainly just held him lots and said: "holy crap you are eight". Each day he is getting more lanky and stanky. It is getting harder to scoop him up and just hold onto him (mainly because he never stops moving).

This was my first birthday I was completely in charge of. Birthdays are a Jordan thing. I usually just take my orders. I pick up the cake and make lightsabers out of pool noodles. Whatever fancy thing she dreams up (thanks Pinterest). So hopefully I did a good job with Benton's birthday. Parker will be slightly more critical in June. If I'm being honest I can't ever remember if Parker's birthday is on June 23rd or 26th. I've got some work to do!

Jordan was right in there for the birthday celebration though and sure didn't miss her serving of cake. Jordan is in a bit of a lull right now. She isn't showing any new symptoms. Her energy levels are still bad. Trips out of the house are an all-out team effort. Everything is slow moving and her speech is holding up for a few hours in the morning before it just gets rough. Hospice is in the house regularly monitoring vitals and just checking in. We are thankful for the lull. We will hold onto the lull for as long as we can.

Throughout this whole process, our children have been along for the ride. One of the things Jordan and I have always strived for with our children is honesty. So it was natural for us to tell our children just a few days after we found out about Jordan's diagnosis last June. Even when our heads were absolutely swimming we thought it was important to tell them. We have always counted them as an equal part of our family. I think our transparency has deepened our children's trust in us and also allowed them to have a fighting chance at handling all that is going on.

Things got a bit tricky though after our last round of news. Suddenly we were tasked with telling our children not only that Jordan's tumor was growing but that it would eventually take her life. The finality of this and the concept of time are something that are so fluid to our children. A vague pie in the sky idea that doesn't make much sense. Parker still asks me almost every Friday if she has school the next day. So how do you tell two beautiful little children that their mother is dying?

The task fell to me. That would have been a Jordan thing not too long ago. Jordan shared the initial news with the kids in our backyard. I held Jordan's hand and stared at the fire fighting back tears. I had no words. Ten short months later I was prepping for the day. I met with our children's therapist, I took the day off of work and I made sure the kids got to bed early so that they would be well rested.

I have told so many others the news and I was able to hold it together fairly well for them. The thought of looking my children in the eye and delivering this news just caused my whole body to tense up though. On my run that morning I couldn't get past the first sentence in my head. I cried through my shower and skipped breakfast. I got back in bed and waited for everyone to wake up. Parker uncharacteristically got up early. She climbed into the bed with me and I held my daughter close. She let me. In that moment I closed my eyes, smelled her hair and was so thankful for all the joy she brings to our home every single day. I hoped with everything in me that this news wouldn't eventually rob her of that joy. Benton eventually joined us in bed and after a few minutes, all the stirring around from the mattress on the floor woke Jordan as well.

We had the talk. I stuck to my talking points, I kept it brief and we all wept. After a few minutes, I took a deep breath and asked: "who wants breakfast?". The kids both chimed in, wiped their tears from their eyes and we carried on. We did what has become the Hassell way. Fall apart, put yourself back together, rinse and repeat. It is engrained in our beings at this point.

Not one single time have we told our children that everything was going to be ok. We have avoided telling them that life would be normal again and that this would all go away. We simply didn't know that. We instead have chosen the narrow, steep, winding and rocky path of honesty.

-Brack

Always a smile on Jordan's face whenever she sees the kiddos.

Packing out Timberline Lodge for a little lunch.

I think we know where Parker gets her smile from.

The whole Stanley gang together in Parkdale.

Jordan's brother is such a pretty pretty princess.

Carb loading on his eighth birthday.

A little casual wine tasting.

Don't Step In It! A family game centered around playdough poop.

Lots of friends pouring in from the south!

Jordan and her grandfather.

"And we drove our stakes in the place so deep"

Last week was spring break for the Hassells. The weather was warm enough to kick the kids out of the house some. A small tease of things to come around here. The valley is quickly coming alive, the days are getting longer, flowers are starting to poke their heads through the soil and the birds are busy doing bird things outside our bedroom window early in the morning. It was even warm enough to eat lunch out on the back porch the other day. Spring here is a constant reminder of beauty. There is something intoxicating about feeling the sun on your skin in Oregon. I swear it burns brighter here.

Along with what seems like a turning point in the seasons in Oregon, we kicked off spring break with starting up hospice care for Jordan. We had a small insurance scare (all taken in stride at this point) but were able to get the intake process taken care of. So we spent the week meeting the team and having the same round of introductory conversations over and over again. Getting to know the people that will be responsible for walking alongside our family is pretty awkward. My general distrust at this point doesn't make things any easier for them I'm sure.

Jordan's symptoms have stabilized a bit in the last week or so. She is still sleeping and eating well. She doesn't have any pain. So there are things to be thankful for in this process. Our house has been filled with laughter and tears the last few weeks (usually with a seamless transition between the two). Jordan's siblings, aunt, grandfather and cousin have been in town. Visits, letters, phone calls and emails have started coming in from all over. People telling Jordan how much they love her and sharing how Jordan has had an impact on their lives. I've delegated most of the reading of letters to Jordan's mom. As I have a hard time reading them out loud without blubbering like a baby. What a privilege it has been to read these letters though. Seeing my wife through the eyes of someone else. Learning new things about the person that I know better than anyone else through small intimate details that have stuck with others.

I shared a quote about living with cancer several months ago. The quote was talking about when you have cancer it just seems like you are "giving up one damn thing after another". At the time Jordan had given up some small things. Her summer, some of her hair, her ability to walk without assistance. As we have continued this journey we have become more aware of the giving up of things.

There are times when we are fully aware of the giving up of things. With a passing thought of knowing this will be the last time for something. I remember this summer taking a small hike on a trail with Jordan to take in a sunset and thinking that it would be the last time due to her mobility.

Some things haven't been given away though. They were taken. Ripped from our hands while we fought like hell. Cancer is an unforgiving fickle bitch though and doesn't seem to mind the constant taking. In just the last few weeks we have been desperately having conversations knowing that we were giving up the ability to communicate in that way.

Sometimes things just slip through your fingertips though. You know they are coming to an end but you get too busy or too distracted to appreciate them for the last time. Last Monday during our Hospice intake the nurse recommended a hospital bed for Jordan. We both agreed that it would be a good idea. Flash forward about fifteen hours and the delivery person calls to let me know he is thirty minutes from the house. It takes Amazon Prime four days to deliver whatever random crap I order but a giant hospital bed shows up the next day from Hospice. These guys are quick.

I knew it was coming but it happened before I could steal one last moment for myself. One last deep breathe in a space and time that I would try to hold onto in my limited and terrible memory. I slept in the same incredibly awesome and wonderfully comfortable bed that was ours for the last time. Cancer doesn't even care about the comfort of a mattress.

I've realized in this last week that it wasn't the giving up of the mattress that was hard. I'll sleep anywhere and have slept in much worse places than on a twin mattress on the floor. It was what the mattress represented that was painful to give up. I've been occupying a bedroom with Jordan for almost thirteen years. We have shared that space with joy, openness and laughter in the same way we have shared the rest of our lives together. There is just something about being there together. Sharing the warmth of a space together. Sometimes out of necessity from the drafty places we have lived but most of the time from choice.

For most of our marriage, I would be the first one in the bed at night. The last ten months have changed that though. With Jordan needing rest she has been beating me into bed most nights. Leaving me up to ponder, listen and get nothing done. What typically happens is that my brain gets cranked up and it is hard for me to sleep. So when I finally get into bed I do something I've been doing for almost thirteen years. I rub my feet on Jordan's feet. It is this simple thing that means everything and nothing all at once. It slows me down and helps me slip off to sleep.

We have been doing it for as long as I can remember. Once very early on in our marriage, Jordan absolutely nailed me with a pillow when we were arguing. I remember thinking how silly it was that she was picking up a pillow during an argument. Well, it wasn't silly because she absolutely clocked me. A one hit pillow fight victory and argument stopper. After I drug myself back to bed and we lay back to back I distinctly remember Jordan extending a leg and lightly rubbing my feet with hers. It was sweeter than an olive branch. We have never been so mad at the other person that we couldn't share that simple act. I've been so angry plenty of times that I thought I would just slip out of the house after Jordan fell asleep and run off and join the circus just out of spite. Every time though as I would hover on the edge of my half of the bed thinking about if it would be harder to learn to juggle or get shot out of a canon here would come Jordan's foot. If it wasn't for that simple act I might be running around with the bearded lady right now. Jordan is pretty awesome but believe it or not she has been mad at me plenty of nights too. The foot has always saved me though!

It wasn't just a peace offering though. It was a way to let the other person know that we were home after being out on a late night adventure with friends. It was a way to say "hey babe I know you are puking, have a fever and are gross but I still love you". Rubbing our feet together was a conversation. A way to say I love you always without saying anything at all.

Appreciating the moment of sharing our own bed for the last time might have slipped past me. So I'll hold onto those foot rubbing moments instead. And I'll be damned if cancer is going to take those! Those foot rubbing moments sum Jordan and I up one hundred percent. Simple, playful, full of love and sometimes stinky.

-Brack

Obligatory #springbreak2k18 photo.

New Easter tradition! A neighborhood Easter egg hunt put on by our friends.

The boys in the neighborhood don't seem to mind the new bedroom set up.