Dream New Dreams (25 page)

That night, I was angry at myself and the world. “What more could possibly happen! What more could go wrong?” I asked myself. Here was our first big adventure in which I felt we had reclaimed
some joie de vivre. In my mind, I tried to reframe the lost ring in a helpful, positive way. On the one hand, my engagement ring was a physical reminder of our marriage and our life together; no other ring could replace it or represent my husband’s love. After I had calmed down a little, I was able to take a more rational view of the situation. In my heart, I knew the ring was just a thing. It was a sentimental thing, but a thing nonetheless. I hadn’t lost anything of
real
importance or value. This wasn’t a tragedy in the true sense of the word. No one had drowned, gotten lost, or gotten hurt. Nor would I lose any of the loving memories or the loving feelings I associated with the ring. In fact, losing the ring led me to an epiphany of sorts. Here we were, having a fantastic day at the water park. The kids and I were laughing and sliding and splashing like crazy. We were having one of those wonderful experiences I had been so afraid we’d never have again. I saw that the magic hadn’t gone out of our lives when Randy died. The magic was still with us, inside us. It always had been. I could lose a tangible part of Randy and a symbol of our marriage, but I could never lose the magic we created together. Was I glad I lost my ring? No! But what I had gained in going to the water park was more valuable than any material object. This trip put me one step further along on the road to rebuilding my life.

Furthermore, if I had to lose that ring, then I thought the water park was a good place for it to rest. I found peace in thinking about that ring lying at the bottom of a pool somewhere. Maybe a good man would find it and give it to the woman he loved and wanted to marry; it would be a symbol of another couple’s love. I hoped in my heart that that couple would experience the kind of love Randy and I had had—a love that I would never stop feeling, with or without a ring on my finger. Even after death has parted us, I still feel it today.

Since the water park adventure, the children and I have gone
on to enjoy many amazing experiences. In the spring of 2009, we were invited by Walt Disney Company CEO Bob Iger to join him in the Magic Kingdom for the dedication of a plaque honoring Randy. Standing in front of the topiaries by the Alice in Wonderland teacup ride, the children cut the ribbon around a leaf-shaped plaque with several quotes from Randy. It read: “Be good at something; it makes you valuable.… Have something to bring to the table because that will make you more welcome.” After studying the plaque for a few minutes, Dylan asked Mr. Iger why Disney had chosen the shape of a leaf; he answered that the leaf symbolized their father’s evergreen legacy, living on forever. What a unique opportunity for Dylan to have a conversation with the chief executive officer of one of the most influential companies in the world! After the ceremony, the children and I enjoyed the park with Randy’s mother, his sister and her family, my brother and his daughter. It was a mini family reunion.

Later that same year, we were invited to Pittsburgh for the Randy Pausch Memorial Bridge dedication. Once again, the children did the honors at the ribbon-cutting ceremony to open the bridge that connects the Purnell Center for the Arts with the new Gates Center for Computer Science and the Hillman Center for Future-Generation Technologies, the latter two being the new home for computer science at Carnegie Mellon University. Without any trepidation whatsoever, Logan and Chloe spoke into the microphone to thank Carnegie Mellon for honoring their father. Dylan followed his siblings’ example and made a comparison between the bridge lighting up the night and his father alight with life. The children then ran back and forth on the bridge as the seven thousand programmable LED lights created a light show that moved down it. The whole experience was made even more special because Randy’s mother,
sister, niece, and nephew were there with us. The next morning we walked over to a great little restaurant and had breakfast together. It reminded me of the times Randy and I would travel to his parents’ house to meet his family and we would spend the weekend together.

The children have also traveled with me to Washington, D.C., where we participated in a walk to raise funds and awareness for pancreatic cancer research. Dylan and Logan were invited to give the kickoff address to the crowd of two thousand participants, which included their grandmother, aunt, and cousins. Neither one of them was intimidated to look out into the crowd and speak into the microphone. I was very impressed by their confidence and presence of mind to be able to talk about pancreatic cancer and its impact on them personally.

The following day, Dylan and I went to Capitol Hill to meet with Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, Representative Frank Pallone Jr., Senator Mark Warner, Representative Lucille Roybal-Allard, Senator Jim Webb, Representative Rosa DeLauro, and Representative J. Randy Forbes to ask for their support to increase funding for the National Cancer Institute and for pancreatic cancer research in particular. It was an incredible lesson for a child to learn—that as Americans we can go to our elected officials and talk with them about the issues we are concerned about and bring them to our government’s attention. This was government “by the people, for the people,” as Abraham Lincoln so famously put it in his Gettysburg Address. Furthermore, we were a part of a larger community of people affected by pancreatic cancer. Every year over 43,000 people nationwide are diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Over 400 people from forty-nine states came together for this event. Dylan, Logan, and Chloe met other children who had lost a parent, a grandparent, or other loved one to the disease, which helped them see that they
are not the only ones who have endured such a tragedy. They also met many people who were survivors, which gave all of us hope that one day more than 6 percent of those diagnosed with pancreatic cancer would be alive five years later. It was an incredible trip and one I hope we are able to repeat in the future.

Almost a year after I lost my engagement ring, I was cleaning out the purse I had used on our trip to the water park when, lo and behold, I discovered the ring in the center zipper compartment. How in the world it got there I will never know. I searched that purse right after I discovered the ring was missing. It is also not my habit to put jewelry in my purse when I leave a hotel room; I put it in the hotel room safe, with my watch and other valuables. In all the months I used that purse after the water park adventure, I never came across the ring. I was absolutely baffled but utterly euphoric to have it back. It resurfaced at a very interesting time in my life; I had decided to get back into the dating world. Maybe Randy returned the ring to me as a reminder of him and our relationship to help guide me as I searched my heart to see if it had healed enough to love again.

O
NE OF THE MOST AWKWARD
conversations I had with Randy as we prepared for his death dealt with the question of my remarrying. In his usual up-front manner, Randy counseled me on finding the right man and warned me to avoid the mistakes of my youth. He was so worried for me and for his children, who would be directly affected by whomever I chose to share my life with. I know I would have felt the same way if the shoe had been on the other foot and I had to trust Randy to find not only someone he loved and respected, but also someone who would be a great mother to my children. He also anticipated the public’s curiosity about how he felt about the matter of my moving on romantically after he died, and he addressed this in
The Last Lecture
. “Most of all, I want Jai to be happy in the years ahead. So if she finds happiness through remarriage, that will be great. If she finds happiness without remarrying, that will also be great.” He nicely worded
this phrase so that I wouldn’t feel pressure to remarry, but I knew how he was hedging his bets.

Before Randy died, he composed a short list of available men whom he trusted and recommended that I consider them for courtship and possibly for marriage. Some of the folks I’ve told this story to have reacted with indignation at how controlling Randy was in his attempt to reach beyond the grave to manipulate my life. I don’t see it that way at all. Instead, I see a man who loved me so much that he was able to put aside all jealousy at the thought of my being with someone else and think about my happiness and the well-being of our children. But I made him stop showing me the list, and I refused to talk about other men with him when he pressed the subject on me. I wasn’t in an emotional space to consider the romantic aspect of my future or the lack thereof.

After Randy had passed away, I was visiting with some of our friends from church when my girlfriend told me about a conversation Randy had had with her and her husband. He asked our friends to keep a lookout for a nice guy for me when the time was right. Not only had Randy been keeping a list, but he had also enlisted some of our friends to take on the role of my personal matchmaker! Still, I wasn’t ready to take that step and I thanked her for being such a good friend.

I remember talking to Dr. Reiss in the fall of 2008, admitting that I couldn’t imagine being romantic with anyone at that moment because I couldn’t entertain the thought of opening up my heart or risk getting hurt again. I was still overwhelmed with pain; my heart wasn’t up to the challenge of dating. My family watched over me and silently waited until I was ready to venture back into the world of romance, never pushing me to go where I wasn’t ready. Later on, I would learn how difficult it was for them as I mourned and
remained alone night after night, month after month. I had a wound that would heal according to no specific time line.

Randy’s mother and sister were supportive of me on the issue of moving on romantically, though I don’t believe Randy had asked them to assist me in this endeavor. Tammy, Randy’s sister, and Virginia, his mother, are reasonable and loving people who understood that I might want to find someone someday to love again. One weekend when Tammy was visiting us, after the children were in bed, she brought up the topic of dating with me. She reassured me that she did not have a problem with my dating and wanted me to feel comfortable talking with her about the subject. It was wonderful to me that she broached the subject—one I had felt too uncomfortable to mention. It also made me feel closer to Randy’s family, knowing that even difficult subjects such as dating and remarriage weren’t going to be land mines in our relationship.

Oddly enough, the people who turned out to be the most vocal proponents for dating were my children, especially my oldest son, Dylan, who was seven at the time. I remember him talking to me about the subject one morning in the car after we had dropped off his siblings at preschool. He asked me if I would ever get remarried or if I had thought about the idea. I was completely caught off guard, not having had any dates or even talked about dating at this point. It must have been something he had given quite a bit of thought to, because he was prepared to have the discussion. So I tried to explain that Mommy wasn’t ready yet because her heart still hurt after losing Daddy. I added that it would be difficult for Mommy to meet people, given my lack of social opportunities, and that he should understand it would be a while before I ventured into the dating world. Then my precocious son offered some strategies to help his forty-two-year-old mom meet an eligible man. “Have
you thought about a divorced man? Because he might be looking for a new family,” Dylan advised. Wow! Was I surprised by his reasoning and perception.

Later on, in another conversation, Dylan told me he missed his father and really wanted another dad. He was looking to me to find him another father to fill the void Randy left. Nothing like a little pressure from your child! Nothing like raising the ante when the stakes were already so high!

I told him how sorry I was that his father had died. I pointed out how lucky we were to have Uncle Bob, my brother, close by to come over and visit. And that many, many people loved us and helped us. These people didn’t replace Randy, Dylan’s father and best friend, but their presence was something we should appreciate. The truth is, I didn’t want to go out into the dating world with the objective of giving my children another father. I don’t think that’s right, and I don’t think it’s fair. Bringing another man into this family isn’t going to make our hurt go away or those feelings of missing Randy disappear. That was the real issue I wanted to address with Dylan—that it was OK to miss Randy, to miss having a dad, but he should not believe that substituting another person in Randy’s place would make everything better. It was such a tough lesson for so young a person to have to learn, but very important.

By the summer of 2009, I was dealing much better with grief and life as a single parent. The knot in my chest had loosened, though not gone away completely. I felt comfortable with our daily routine. The kids were doing well and enjoying themselves. I loved watching them grow, sharing the day with them, and hatching new adventures. I also was developing a social network outside my immediate family. My friends and I would go out on occasion for dinner, to a movie, or to the theatre. Overall, I was feeling happy with my
life. I wasn’t alone, but I was starting to feel lonely. I missed holding someone’s hand or snuggling while watching a movie. My heart was starting to thump again, and I was slowly becoming aware of its beating. It’s not as though I woke up one morning and said, “Gee, I’d like to have someone special in my life starting today.” Rather, it was a gradual awakening.