I've been thinking a lot about a final post on here. There are so many things I want to say, so many things I want to share with you all who have been there with us. Today seemed to be good timing... 6 months have passed, and while the loss is still acute, we're learning how to live again. In past posts, I mentioned that Scott had thought Korrl had returned, which was why he had a CT scan scheduled for 10/23. He had been experiencing similar symptoms from when he was originally diagnosed - bloating, loss of appetite, fatigue, nausea.&nbsp; What Happened I've talked in past posts about the conversations Scott and I had during his cancer journey. One of the most memorable was two weeks before he died. We were talking about our daughter moving out, and planning how we would help her move, and then our conversation turned to us. He started crying and said to me, "I feel like our time is running out." Of course, I started crying too, and I told him that I had that same feeling. We both thought we had months, that cancer would take him from me sometime around summer. We cheered each other up with promises that we'd spend our time laughing, loving, and making beautiful memories. When we moved our daughter out, Scott was extremely careful to not overdo it. No heavy lifting, not a lot of walking, and he actually felt pretty good that day (physically). It was bittersweet for us - we were proud of our daughter for moving out and "adulting", but we were sad at the same time. The day that Scott died was absolutely wonderfully normal. We had some great moments, and then he was gone.&nbsp; We were affectionate, loving, and our normal selves. Things were good. He was going to go get the CT scan to see if Korrl had returned. He texted me throughout the day, reminding me that we had plans to watch The Masked Singer and that I needed to make sure I left work on time so we wouldn't miss it. He asked me to pick up Noodles &amp; Co. He told me about the CT prep he had to drink, and then finally when he was leaving to go to the hospital. When I got home from work, I had a feeling something was up - he wasn't home and I hadn't heard from him. I went into the house and texted him asking if everything was okay. I put on pajamas, all the while thinking to myself, I'm going to go out again tonight. I just knew something bad was coming. I ate my dinner alone, it sat heavy in my stomach and immediately after I wished I hadn't eaten. I knew.&nbsp;And then the phone call came. "Scott's been involved in an incident at the hospital. We need you to get here." "Can you tell me what's going on?" "No, you'll have to speak to a doctor when you get here." I knew I was going into something bad, but I didn't know what it was. A stroke? Another heart attack? I called our daughter and asked her to come sit with our son, and then I called my sister and asked her to meet me at the hospital. At one point during my drive, my heart started pounding in my chest, irregularly, like it was trying to get out. I knew with every fiber of my being that it was what was happening with Scott... he was letting go. I got to the hospital and met the person who had called me... he introduced himself as the chaplain. My stomach dropped. He told me he was taking me to the intensive care unit. I asked, "soooo does that mean the incident is over?" He said, "The incident is in progress." My mind already knew what my heart was denying. He brought me to the waiting room and had me sit. Then they brought me back into a room where a couple of doctors came in and told me Scott had died. I was trying to process these words, and then they started asking me about how he had been feeling lately. I could hardly think. I knew he'd been feeling like hell since before he finished up with radiation, and I kind of tried to convey that to them. Not sure how much I was able to, though. They brought me back to see him. It is etched in my brain. I kissed his cheek, ran my hand over his hair, and held his hand. I cried. I barely remember my sister walking into the room, and I regret that is how she found out about Scott, by walking in on me saying goodbye.&nbsp; The hospital staff left us alone with Scott, told us to take our time. I remember a nurse standing at the foot of the bed and she was trying to be comforting, but she had her hands on his feet - all I could think was how much he would hate that!&nbsp;😏&nbsp; My sister and I sat and cried for a good long time. Then we had to make phone calls. God, so many phone calls. My brother came up to help me get Scott's Jeep home (because, of course he'd been feeling great so he drove himself to Sherman for the CT scan). I had to tell our children. I can't even begin to describe how awful that was.&nbsp; Schr&ouml;dinger's Cancer For anyone familiar with The Big Bang Theory, the name Schr&ouml;dinger rings a bell. There's a whole episode about&nbsp;Schr&ouml;dinger's Cat and the theory that in this box, the cat is simultaneously both alive and dead (<a href="https://www.iflscience.com/physics/schr%C3%B6dinger%E2%80%99s-cat-explained/">Here's an article that helps explain it</a>.) The way I view Scott's death is similar. At the time of his death, his cancer was just like Schr&ouml;dinger's damn cat - it was there and it was not there. Scott died without ever having that confirmation that Korrl had returned. He lived his last moments as he had the ones before - yeah maybe it was back but until that was verified, life could go on. He had that future we had planned. He didn't have anxiety, depression, frustration, fear.&nbsp; And that, my friends, is a blessing. It's THE blessing. ***************************** Scott died of a heart attack. The nausea, fatigue, and loss of appetite were also symptoms of heart disease, but given the timing of having had just finished radiation, the doctors attributed those symptoms to the radiation. Several years ago, his cardiologist told us Scott had won the lottery by coming into the hospital that day to get his heart checked. That lottery win gave us 12 years more in which to grow, love, and live. We forged new paths, grew closer, and built more of a foundation for the rest of our lives. I am forever grateful to that cardiologist and the rest of his team for those 12 years.&nbsp; thank you I'd like to say thank you again to all of you who have been with us throughout Scott's journey. Thank you for the kindnesses, the generosity, the memories you've shared. Thank you for being with us and cheering us on. These things really brightened his mood when he needed it, and made him realize how truly loved he was by so many. And, for the record, he never learned about Operation: Chew Bubblegum! farewell As this is the final post, I'll leave you with some song lyrics that I've heard over the last few months (links in the song titles). I've taken them as a sign from Scott that it's normal and okay to move on. Not that it makes it any less painful, but when I think of it as a sign, it does help. Farewell, My Beloved. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qG05D3OeJYQ">Hold On To Memories - Disturbed</a> Take the ones you love And hold them close because there is little time And don't let it break your heart I know it feels hopeless sometimes But they're never really gone As long as there's a memory in your mind So now go do the best things in life Take a bite of this world while you can Make the most of the rest of your life Make a ride of this world while you can <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JLv8FTO_R8">Brighter Side of Grey - Five Finger Death Punch</a> If you're reading this, I know you're feeling sorrow If you're hearing this, I know you're probably scared Just know that all the things you want are borrowed And all you get to keep is all you've shared So wipe away the tears for me Know that we've made history Remember no one ever really dies When the lights go down Know that I am never far away When the sun burns out I'll be waiting on the brighter side of grey <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UND4qN0baL0">Godspeed - Alterbridge</a> Without you I know that I must change Without you I'll never be the same Farewell godspeed and goodbye You have lived and you have changed all our lives Cast away our regrets and all our fears Just like like you did when you were here And then the days they ran out And then the days they ran out

Scott Sidman

Update: Final Post: What Happened... Schrödinger's Cancer... thank you... farewell – by Stephanie Sidman