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My Dad lost his battle with GBM on Saturday, July 11, 2020.

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Son. Brother. Dad. Uncle. Papa. Friend.  The world lost a good one on Saturday, July 11, 2020. After 18-months, my Dad lost his very tough fight with glioblastoma (gbm ).  On Monday, July 20, we said goodbye.  What is Glioblastoma / GBM ?  My Dad sought treatment at the Cleveland Clinic.  Read more about GBM here.  Read a small glimpse into how GBM hit our family; some of the first warning signs, and gradual declines seen.  -  if anyone is new to the GBM journey and has any questions, please reach out  to me and I will share more of our experience.  July 12, 2020 Facebook post:  I was in the room with my Dad and my brother on the day he was told he had glioblastoma. 12-15 months to live, his doctor said. That was in March of 2019. Do the math on how long he fought after the diagnosis; July 11, 2020. My Dad turned 75 on June 27th. A year ago, we had a big party for him. We never expected he could somehow beat this damn brain cancer long enough to celebr
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My Dad turns 75 this weekend

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My Dad turns 75 this weekend. I can’t believe it. He is battling stage 4 glioblastoma. Last summer for his 74th, my brother threw him a party. He had siblings from Arizona, South Carolina, Ohio, all come together to celebrate the life he’d lived. It was a tough day. He told my brother he’d never had a party before. That made me sad. He deserved more than one. But there we were, celebrating him, knowing his clock was running out. At the end of March 2019, we were told the diagnosis. 12-15 months. Since then, I’ve been well aware of time.   My Dad turns 75 this weekend. I told my son we were going to Ohio to see him and Nana. “Will Papa be able to talk this time?” He’s 5. He’ll grow up not remembering his Papa the way he was. I’ll spend my time trying to remind him. Papa was a real superhero. Anybody that can delay the inevitable as cancer literally eats their brain for over a year and a half is more than that. Papa not only was a real superhero, but he liked being one with you.
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An open letter to my brother

Hey bro, It’s been a while since we talked. I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay. I wish the distance between us wasn’t so far. There’s so much that I’d like to talk to you about. I think about you a lot, every day. I hope you’re doing well. My boy is as ornery as ever and I swear I can hear your laugh echoing at some of the things he does. You always encouraged his bad behavior. My little girl is turning into quite the princess. She still likes to get on laps and cuddle. I know if you came to visit, she’d still melt into your lap. She liked it there. Jesse’s doing good. He’s helped me keep my sanity with everything that’s been going on. I was in a car accident a few weeks ago and totaled the car. The kids were with me. That was the hardest part. The airbags deployed and beat me up pretty good. My lip and my right hand are still healing from cuts. The seat belt tightened from impact. I couldn’t turn around. I felt trapped in my seat. The kids didn’t make a peep;
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Breaking the routine of worry

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I got a wake-up call last Sunday morning to the sound of my two-year-old screaming my name over the monitor. I looked at the clock. 6:13. Her shriek was more of a morning greeting declaring that she was ready to get up rather than out of need. But doesn’t the  non-working  world sleep in on Sundays? As a parent, a full-time caregiver, a work-from-home mom – there is no sleeping in. There’s not much sleeping at all unless you go to bed after dinner. My husband works hard and occasionally his alarm goes off at 3AM. Most recently, it’s been at 4. My kids have not yet reached the age of sleep appreciation. In fact, neither one of them can go to the bathroom on their own, yet they have already decided that naps aren’t their thing. So why is my sometimes angelic, sometimes possessed daughter screaming for me just after 6 on a Sunday morning? She didn’t nap the day before which means she should sleep until at least, I don’t know, 7. I jump out of bed, brush my teeth and enter the be
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Writer for hire

Consider it pure joy...whenever you face trials of many kinds - James 1:2  Whenever people ask me what I do, I tell them I am a writer. I say that even though I have spent the last 17 years working as a writer/editor/web publisher, and even tried my hand at public relations for a bit. The last five years were spent exclusively as an Associate Editor at ESPN, covering motorsports. I wish I was given the opportunity to dabble in other sports, but the chance never presented itself. Three of us were fully dedicated to the espn.com/jayski domain, with just two of us maintaining the news on a daily basis. We made it through multiple mass layoffs at ESPN, and our site continued to pull in strong page views. We felt confident as we readied for another racing season. But on January 28, ESPN decided to shut down the site. Like many others before me, I now carry the title "Former Editor at ESPN." Surprisingly, I am looking forward to seeing where this new journey takes me. W
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Celebrating a birthday while grieving

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Today is my birthday. I am now 37-years-old. Today is different than all of my other birthdays I have had. My oldest brother Kenny went Home in April. This is my first birthday without him. Up until now, I had 36 years worth of hugs from him, and as we got older and lived states apart, calls and texts. Today, while I got many beautiful and touching messages, I lacked one. I would hear my phone and basically expect a miracle. It did not come. Instead, I replayed a voicemail he left me last year. I had to work that day. He mentioned that, but added, “The good thing is, we are on the right side of the dirt.” That was his humor. And truth. He often got disgusted with societal complaints and wished people could just be happy being upright. I am, bro, but it is taking me a while to adjust without you. That is where I am: a state of adjusting.  I miss his questionable humor. I miss his in-your-face honesty. I try to verbally kick myself in the ass like he would. Some days it works, som
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