Journal entry by Jamie Schneider —
I thought I'd write one last post to thank everyone as well as let you all know how Greg's last days were. I've been writing this for awhile now and haven't posted. Yesterday marked 1 month that Greg has passed, so I felt that is was time to post.
First, THANK YOU all for being so supportive through our fight, our good and hard times. For the flowers and cards, food and many favors you all did and do for us. We are all so very much appreciative and know that you took time out of your days to do these things for us. Thank you thank you thank you! (and sorry if you never see a thank you card. With 3 businesses to run, house and family it's quite cumbersome)
As for Greg's last days. I looked and saw that my last post was March 4th. He passed on March 16th. I had drafted post that I apparently never posted on March 11th. I didn't even realize til now that I never posted that. It's still very hard to believe. We had NO idea that in a mere days later he would no longer be with us. As I stated in previous post, he was hospitalized for the blood clots end of February. Here's what happened after.
We were sent home w/ the blood thinner shot in which he gave himself everyday. Wouldn't let me. HA The swelling started going down in his legs and overall he was ok, just couldn't get up and walk around much, because it would cause swelling again. And slept a lot.
March 5th, we were told the cancer had spread to his liver and that we needed to get our things in order. Dr. Singh's words, "you have weeks, not months." Of course we still always look positive and ask what more we can do. Greg said he needed more time, but then kind of drifted in a daze afterwards. His poor body was just so tired, yet his spirit to fight never left him. And he wasn't in pain! We had always associated the bad in the cancer w/ pain. So even hearing it spread and the pain managed seemed odd to us. More like denial, I'm sure.
We had already had a will drawn up but hadn't signed it yet. Lawyer came to the house March 6th for us to sign. The doctor said maybe 6-8 weeks, so we kept looking for possibilities. It is true that he did wake from a sleep and look at me and ask "what are we doing...I feel like we're just sitting here-what's next" Actually more demanding or frustrated to me than he ever really was. He did not accept the news and became quite withdrawn if any subject heavy came up. He did what he does and we went through financial paperwork, passwords, all things financial. We were working toward immunotherapy, which is to rev up his immune system in hopes it would slow and/or attack the cancer. He'd have days where he could be awake for a bit and have conversation, then others where he just slept. He still managed business as best he could and I worked on how to help him manage it behind the scenes. I brought a close friend in to start peaking at things so that his guys could still get paid and he signed his guys' payroll checks up til the very week before. He was bound and determined to keep working.
Our next new normal. We stayed the same. That is the only way he would allow anyone to be around him and that is the way we treated him as well. It was a little hard for the kids to face him shortly after hearing it had spread and I could tell hard for him to face them. I told them by myself, not with him. Once they got passed the first encounter of seeing each other we all did ok. We all wanted to say so much, but also wanted it to just be fun normal times. Our normal. Greg and Triston has some fun chats about work. He and I watched TV. He taught Mia Ms Pacman and Pole Position Atari and she sat on his bed while he went in and out of sleep.
He was not in pain. So part of me thought, well he's not eating much, so he's losing energy. I need to get calories in him, so I had protein shakes and any small meal I could get with protein and any food possible to get his strength up so he could do the immunotherapy treatment. All surgeries were off the table at this point unless we could get the cancer under control. And he wouldn't have been strong enough if I couldn't get more nutrients in him.
Tues. March 13th he got up on his own to go to the bathroom. Hadn't been out of bed for a couple days and using the urinal. The day before I started measuring his urine, because I knew if that changed I had to take him in. It was normal.
I went downstairs and saw he wasn't in bed, so I sat outside the bathroom door and chatted with him to make sure he stayed alert. I was afraid he'd fall. Then when he was done, britches up, I helped him stand and started to head to the bed. Immediately he told me to sit him back down. He got really dizzy. Later found out it's very common for blood pressure to drop when someone is weak like that and it's almost always after getting off the toilet. Blood goes to lower extremities and not enough gets to the brain.
He entered the hospital that day. We got fluids going and started a plan to get more nutrients. Dr. Singh suggested that we could do a feeding tube, which was a very simple procedure. He's under anesthesia, scope the tube down and make a tiny incision in his belly and out pops the tube. It's not the one that would be uncomfortable and come out of his nose. I had asked Greg on Wed. if he knew what was going on tomorrow, Thurs. He said not really, so I explained it to him and told him it was his choice. His answer was, matter of fact...what other choice do I have? I need food and if this is the way then this is the way. I always tried to make sure he felt as if he was making decisions.
I was getting frustrated they couldn't do the feeding tube on Wed. and I knew he needed the blood thinners, but he couldn't have the blood thinners before surgery due to bleeding potential. So it was the torture of I want the thinners in him, yet I need food in him too. I just pushed and pushed to get answers. They were doing the best they could to get him on the schedule in such a rush and had to wait for the thinner he had in him to get out of his system. Every which way we turned it was road block. He slept through most of it. He knew who he was, who people were, where he was, but just slept a lot. These last two hospital stays he wasn't near as chipper with the nurses. He just wanted them to leave him alone so he could sleep. He was never mean. Just not the same. He was frustrated. He went in and out of being there and aware to joking and not knowing what was going on. He would put on the brave face for company who came by, but I saw a very tired, frustrated person. He was just tired of people messing with him. Sometimes I'd just grab his focus and talk to him or make things light or even joke myself so he could relax. I started taking meeting with the doctors out of the room so he could sleep. I was afraid he'd worry that I was having them leave the room; as if something worse was wrong, so I told him we'd let him sleep and I'd start taking them to the hall. He said "good".
Wed. night, 14th, he did have some pain, but he thought it was more like a "I have to go to the bathroom" pain. It did become important for them to be able to get a stool sample. That urination was normal. etc. And he tried all of it and I just helped. Urination was hard, barely could. And no bowel in 4 days. His left arm started swelling and turning purple, so I called the nurse in and they did an ultrasound and found more blood clots and some in his central line where his port went in. I knew this was getting serious. His arm hurt, he'd lift it, look at it and I would tell him we're going to get it fixed. That he was ok...anything for him to just be calm sleep and not have to deal with this crap or feel pain. Luckily at the last minute when his arm swelled, I realized his wedding ring was on and he was able to help me get that off before we couldn't. I didn't want to have to cut it off.
Before surgery he would have moments of being lucid and other times he just wanted to sleep and be left alone. A funny story of him "sshing" me in pre-op. I was pacing, frustrated it was taking longer. I walked to the curtain and started to tear it open and walk out to get someone and his quiet voice behind me said "don't go out there." I turned around and he put his finger to his mouth. I said are you sshing me?. He just shook his head and said yes. So I laughed, went and sat down. For like a second and popped back up and did what I do. Find out what in the heck is going on. I had to learn to toe this line for Greg's mental sake. He had a bit of anxiety in that if I piss off a doctor or nurse, then maybe they wouldn't do right by him in surgery. Poor guy. It was kind of like pissing off the fast food guy before you get your food and they spit in it. I think this came from how bad it was in the beginning and no one would listen to us.
Anyway my gut kept telling me to call the kids and his family. I asked the kids and his parents & brother to come to the hospital to see him after surgery. And they were able to get some funny hello moments from him and his spirit was good. He was dopey from anesthesia. Then everyone left so he could rest and let the anesthesia wear off.
And then it seemed like it never wore off, urination became more of an issue. He hadn't gone since Wed. night and this was well into the day of Thurs. They had to put a catheter in and we decided to do that while the anesthesia was still working. During this process I just kind of blocked any view he may have had if he opened his eyes. Talked to him, helped him take some deep breaths, and yet he really wasn't opening his eyes. Right as the catheter process was ending, the doctor came in and called me out of the room. And that's when he told me anything more we do to him is torture. He was willing to fight as long as Greg was able to fight the fight. To do anything within reason.
Greg had been ready for more of the 1st chemo he had when we were told it's spread and I kinda had to say his body couldn't handle it. If he wanted as much time as possible, then we can't do that chemo. He only weighed 119lbs at this point and when he did that chemo is when he was still full of muscle mass and 155lbs. That chemo would have killed him instantly. And since we couldn't do chemo we aimed for the immunotherapy. I know now the doctor knew all along where this was going, but we had him on strict orders to be positive in front of Greg.
Thurs March 15th He knew he could tell me most things. So he did when he pulled me out of the room. "it's happening" he said. His body isn't making urine anymore. He hasn't had a bowel. So while Greg fully knew where he was and who he was and who I was when he would wake, his poor body was shutting down and it was going to happen whether we wanted it to or not. It was horrible to be told those words...nothing prepares you. But Dr. Singh was amazing. He immediately grabbed me in a hug and cried with me. I got it together fast, because I had to call my kids! I had to call his family, his friends. I got through one call each and just told those friends or family, you have to let people know. I can't make anymore calls. I can't keep saying "we have to let him go". And I wanted to be in the room with him.
Again...he was not in pain. We did start a morphine drip. He was not hooked up to a bunch of machines. He did not want to be resuscitated unless there was viable life. He looked as though he was peacefully sleeping. I learned what signs to look for to tell if he were in pain; I could give more morphine. The whole point at this point was to give him peace. NO more pain! Mia struggled with this part. She begged me not to give him more, so she could get to the hospital the next day and talk with him. Later I found she thought the morphine is what made him groggy and the "stupid hospital" gave it to him. Luckily I had learned from the hospice team more about it. The body goes through pain shutting down and death isn't always pretty. The morphine merely shuts off the receptors to the brain that says "I'm in pain". But technically the body is still in pain. But if the brain doesn't know it, then it's much more peace for that person. They told me if he's rapid breathing or frowning. Those are not signs that he's trying to tell us something. Those are signs of pain and distress. I learned hearing is the last thing to go. So it was still important we kept a calm environment, but it was also important to talk to him. Let him know it's ok to go. They said sometimes people will hang on longer and it's much harder on them to do so. The kids and I all told him we'd be strong, we would be ok, we loved him and it's ok for him to go. Each kid told him on their own and in private and I told him as well. It was something we needed to do. We told him we appreciated how hard he fought for us. He knew we didn't want to let him, but we had to. And whether you say it or don't say it; it was going to happen.
Friday March 16th, I had everyone go home the night before. Late. I pushed my cot up to his bed and slept holding his hand most the night. Woke and he still sounded the same as he did the night before. I called the nurse in to check vitals. I has asked them Thurs...you have to tell me what is a sign, when do I need to call family...help me through this. I want to do what's right by him and our kids and the family. She took his blood pressure and pulse on his arm and on his leg/toe. She could not get a reading on either. He was still audibly breathing. But she said this is a sign. Blood pools to the core of the body leaving the extremities. Call the family. He passed at approx. 10:53am.
He fought such a battle, he endured SO much and honestly longer than the doctors expected. He put on the brave face, but I saw Greg at his vulnerable stages. This process one endures with cancer is a humiliating, debilitating process that tends to try to steal your pride and dignity and I knew he wouldn't want that to keep happening.
We're grateful we got 18 months with him from time symptoms started. He passed literally on the very day, 1 year after he and I were told it was cancer. March 16th 2017. Those docs told him he'd live a year at best and he'd always say "I'll show them. They don't know who they're dealing with, do they honey" And so in true Greg fashion...he made damn sure he made it 1 year from diagnosis! This wasn't a conversation we had. I just happened to realize it the day he passed...like wait...this was THE day, 1 year ago. Holy shit...is honestly what I said to myself. I had to laugh...that stinker probably set some private goal in his head and stuck to it.
We miss him SO unbelievably much it hurts. But I have to be strong for the kids. WE have to be strong. And crying is ok. We're a teammate down, so we all gotta step up. Little things are harder than the big things. I don't know how to socialize without getting anxious, yet I can work and go on GSE bids etc.. My analogy is my whole body is covered in bandaids and I keep having to rip them off one at a time. Some I've been forced to rip one off and deal when I don't want to, but I'm finding that sometimes that's the best way to get a little stronger everyday. I've learned that the first days are those of shock, then grief sets in. Shock has worn off and that's where we are now. Reality. For me this past week was harder than the first weeks. So I'm making sure I talk about it rather than shove it. I'm making sure the kids are talking about it and that they can talk to me as well. Wine helps too...haha
GSE is still running. His guys are working away and we've created new systems delegated and we're figuring it out. He did the hard work, which was building his name. Now we just have to carry it on. I ordered new GSE shirts for the guys today and his full company name 'Greg Schneider Enterprises, Inc' will be on them for us to always remember why we're doing this and the kind of work Greg would do.
It's a damn hard thing to lose your partner in life and best friend, but I'm sure grateful I got the time that I got. And I know one day I'll see him in my mind well and not sick. While I'm pissed we couldn't beat that damn cancer, we sure gave it a run and I'm at peace that he is not suffering anymore. Those last days were not anything like the earlier days. I'm glad God took him peacefully.
He passed with a smirk smile on his face, no joke. His jaw closed up and landed in a smirk. We all knew he was happy and at peace. Was the most surreal thing ever. That even his dad and I talked about how we wished we'd taken a picture just to prove it. Yes, sounds crazy, but it was so nice to see.
Thank you all again for your support. Love and hugs!
Jamie, Triston, Mia and Sierra
First, THANK YOU all for being so supportive through our fight, our good and hard times. For the flowers and cards, food and many favors you all did and do for us. We are all so very much appreciative and know that you took time out of your days to do these things for us. Thank you thank you thank you! (and sorry if you never see a thank you card. With 3 businesses to run, house and family it's quite cumbersome)
As for Greg's last days. I looked and saw that my last post was March 4th. He passed on March 16th. I had drafted post that I apparently never posted on March 11th. I didn't even realize til now that I never posted that. It's still very hard to believe. We had NO idea that in a mere days later he would no longer be with us. As I stated in previous post, he was hospitalized for the blood clots end of February. Here's what happened after.
We were sent home w/ the blood thinner shot in which he gave himself everyday. Wouldn't let me. HA The swelling started going down in his legs and overall he was ok, just couldn't get up and walk around much, because it would cause swelling again. And slept a lot.
March 5th, we were told the cancer had spread to his liver and that we needed to get our things in order. Dr. Singh's words, "you have weeks, not months." Of course we still always look positive and ask what more we can do. Greg said he needed more time, but then kind of drifted in a daze afterwards. His poor body was just so tired, yet his spirit to fight never left him. And he wasn't in pain! We had always associated the bad in the cancer w/ pain. So even hearing it spread and the pain managed seemed odd to us. More like denial, I'm sure.
We had already had a will drawn up but hadn't signed it yet. Lawyer came to the house March 6th for us to sign. The doctor said maybe 6-8 weeks, so we kept looking for possibilities. It is true that he did wake from a sleep and look at me and ask "what are we doing...I feel like we're just sitting here-what's next" Actually more demanding or frustrated to me than he ever really was. He did not accept the news and became quite withdrawn if any subject heavy came up. He did what he does and we went through financial paperwork, passwords, all things financial. We were working toward immunotherapy, which is to rev up his immune system in hopes it would slow and/or attack the cancer. He'd have days where he could be awake for a bit and have conversation, then others where he just slept. He still managed business as best he could and I worked on how to help him manage it behind the scenes. I brought a close friend in to start peaking at things so that his guys could still get paid and he signed his guys' payroll checks up til the very week before. He was bound and determined to keep working.
Our next new normal. We stayed the same. That is the only way he would allow anyone to be around him and that is the way we treated him as well. It was a little hard for the kids to face him shortly after hearing it had spread and I could tell hard for him to face them. I told them by myself, not with him. Once they got passed the first encounter of seeing each other we all did ok. We all wanted to say so much, but also wanted it to just be fun normal times. Our normal. Greg and Triston has some fun chats about work. He and I watched TV. He taught Mia Ms Pacman and Pole Position Atari and she sat on his bed while he went in and out of sleep.
He was not in pain. So part of me thought, well he's not eating much, so he's losing energy. I need to get calories in him, so I had protein shakes and any small meal I could get with protein and any food possible to get his strength up so he could do the immunotherapy treatment. All surgeries were off the table at this point unless we could get the cancer under control. And he wouldn't have been strong enough if I couldn't get more nutrients in him.
Tues. March 13th he got up on his own to go to the bathroom. Hadn't been out of bed for a couple days and using the urinal. The day before I started measuring his urine, because I knew if that changed I had to take him in. It was normal.
I went downstairs and saw he wasn't in bed, so I sat outside the bathroom door and chatted with him to make sure he stayed alert. I was afraid he'd fall. Then when he was done, britches up, I helped him stand and started to head to the bed. Immediately he told me to sit him back down. He got really dizzy. Later found out it's very common for blood pressure to drop when someone is weak like that and it's almost always after getting off the toilet. Blood goes to lower extremities and not enough gets to the brain.
He entered the hospital that day. We got fluids going and started a plan to get more nutrients. Dr. Singh suggested that we could do a feeding tube, which was a very simple procedure. He's under anesthesia, scope the tube down and make a tiny incision in his belly and out pops the tube. It's not the one that would be uncomfortable and come out of his nose. I had asked Greg on Wed. if he knew what was going on tomorrow, Thurs. He said not really, so I explained it to him and told him it was his choice. His answer was, matter of fact...what other choice do I have? I need food and if this is the way then this is the way. I always tried to make sure he felt as if he was making decisions.
I was getting frustrated they couldn't do the feeding tube on Wed. and I knew he needed the blood thinners, but he couldn't have the blood thinners before surgery due to bleeding potential. So it was the torture of I want the thinners in him, yet I need food in him too. I just pushed and pushed to get answers. They were doing the best they could to get him on the schedule in such a rush and had to wait for the thinner he had in him to get out of his system. Every which way we turned it was road block. He slept through most of it. He knew who he was, who people were, where he was, but just slept a lot. These last two hospital stays he wasn't near as chipper with the nurses. He just wanted them to leave him alone so he could sleep. He was never mean. Just not the same. He was frustrated. He went in and out of being there and aware to joking and not knowing what was going on. He would put on the brave face for company who came by, but I saw a very tired, frustrated person. He was just tired of people messing with him. Sometimes I'd just grab his focus and talk to him or make things light or even joke myself so he could relax. I started taking meeting with the doctors out of the room so he could sleep. I was afraid he'd worry that I was having them leave the room; as if something worse was wrong, so I told him we'd let him sleep and I'd start taking them to the hall. He said "good".
Wed. night, 14th, he did have some pain, but he thought it was more like a "I have to go to the bathroom" pain. It did become important for them to be able to get a stool sample. That urination was normal. etc. And he tried all of it and I just helped. Urination was hard, barely could. And no bowel in 4 days. His left arm started swelling and turning purple, so I called the nurse in and they did an ultrasound and found more blood clots and some in his central line where his port went in. I knew this was getting serious. His arm hurt, he'd lift it, look at it and I would tell him we're going to get it fixed. That he was ok...anything for him to just be calm sleep and not have to deal with this crap or feel pain. Luckily at the last minute when his arm swelled, I realized his wedding ring was on and he was able to help me get that off before we couldn't. I didn't want to have to cut it off.
Before surgery he would have moments of being lucid and other times he just wanted to sleep and be left alone. A funny story of him "sshing" me in pre-op. I was pacing, frustrated it was taking longer. I walked to the curtain and started to tear it open and walk out to get someone and his quiet voice behind me said "don't go out there." I turned around and he put his finger to his mouth. I said are you sshing me?. He just shook his head and said yes. So I laughed, went and sat down. For like a second and popped back up and did what I do. Find out what in the heck is going on. I had to learn to toe this line for Greg's mental sake. He had a bit of anxiety in that if I piss off a doctor or nurse, then maybe they wouldn't do right by him in surgery. Poor guy. It was kind of like pissing off the fast food guy before you get your food and they spit in it. I think this came from how bad it was in the beginning and no one would listen to us.
Anyway my gut kept telling me to call the kids and his family. I asked the kids and his parents & brother to come to the hospital to see him after surgery. And they were able to get some funny hello moments from him and his spirit was good. He was dopey from anesthesia. Then everyone left so he could rest and let the anesthesia wear off.
And then it seemed like it never wore off, urination became more of an issue. He hadn't gone since Wed. night and this was well into the day of Thurs. They had to put a catheter in and we decided to do that while the anesthesia was still working. During this process I just kind of blocked any view he may have had if he opened his eyes. Talked to him, helped him take some deep breaths, and yet he really wasn't opening his eyes. Right as the catheter process was ending, the doctor came in and called me out of the room. And that's when he told me anything more we do to him is torture. He was willing to fight as long as Greg was able to fight the fight. To do anything within reason.
Greg had been ready for more of the 1st chemo he had when we were told it's spread and I kinda had to say his body couldn't handle it. If he wanted as much time as possible, then we can't do that chemo. He only weighed 119lbs at this point and when he did that chemo is when he was still full of muscle mass and 155lbs. That chemo would have killed him instantly. And since we couldn't do chemo we aimed for the immunotherapy. I know now the doctor knew all along where this was going, but we had him on strict orders to be positive in front of Greg.
Thurs March 15th He knew he could tell me most things. So he did when he pulled me out of the room. "it's happening" he said. His body isn't making urine anymore. He hasn't had a bowel. So while Greg fully knew where he was and who he was and who I was when he would wake, his poor body was shutting down and it was going to happen whether we wanted it to or not. It was horrible to be told those words...nothing prepares you. But Dr. Singh was amazing. He immediately grabbed me in a hug and cried with me. I got it together fast, because I had to call my kids! I had to call his family, his friends. I got through one call each and just told those friends or family, you have to let people know. I can't make anymore calls. I can't keep saying "we have to let him go". And I wanted to be in the room with him.
Again...he was not in pain. We did start a morphine drip. He was not hooked up to a bunch of machines. He did not want to be resuscitated unless there was viable life. He looked as though he was peacefully sleeping. I learned what signs to look for to tell if he were in pain; I could give more morphine. The whole point at this point was to give him peace. NO more pain! Mia struggled with this part. She begged me not to give him more, so she could get to the hospital the next day and talk with him. Later I found she thought the morphine is what made him groggy and the "stupid hospital" gave it to him. Luckily I had learned from the hospice team more about it. The body goes through pain shutting down and death isn't always pretty. The morphine merely shuts off the receptors to the brain that says "I'm in pain". But technically the body is still in pain. But if the brain doesn't know it, then it's much more peace for that person. They told me if he's rapid breathing or frowning. Those are not signs that he's trying to tell us something. Those are signs of pain and distress. I learned hearing is the last thing to go. So it was still important we kept a calm environment, but it was also important to talk to him. Let him know it's ok to go. They said sometimes people will hang on longer and it's much harder on them to do so. The kids and I all told him we'd be strong, we would be ok, we loved him and it's ok for him to go. Each kid told him on their own and in private and I told him as well. It was something we needed to do. We told him we appreciated how hard he fought for us. He knew we didn't want to let him, but we had to. And whether you say it or don't say it; it was going to happen.
Friday March 16th, I had everyone go home the night before. Late. I pushed my cot up to his bed and slept holding his hand most the night. Woke and he still sounded the same as he did the night before. I called the nurse in to check vitals. I has asked them Thurs...you have to tell me what is a sign, when do I need to call family...help me through this. I want to do what's right by him and our kids and the family. She took his blood pressure and pulse on his arm and on his leg/toe. She could not get a reading on either. He was still audibly breathing. But she said this is a sign. Blood pools to the core of the body leaving the extremities. Call the family. He passed at approx. 10:53am.
He fought such a battle, he endured SO much and honestly longer than the doctors expected. He put on the brave face, but I saw Greg at his vulnerable stages. This process one endures with cancer is a humiliating, debilitating process that tends to try to steal your pride and dignity and I knew he wouldn't want that to keep happening.
We're grateful we got 18 months with him from time symptoms started. He passed literally on the very day, 1 year after he and I were told it was cancer. March 16th 2017. Those docs told him he'd live a year at best and he'd always say "I'll show them. They don't know who they're dealing with, do they honey" And so in true Greg fashion...he made damn sure he made it 1 year from diagnosis! This wasn't a conversation we had. I just happened to realize it the day he passed...like wait...this was THE day, 1 year ago. Holy shit...is honestly what I said to myself. I had to laugh...that stinker probably set some private goal in his head and stuck to it.
We miss him SO unbelievably much it hurts. But I have to be strong for the kids. WE have to be strong. And crying is ok. We're a teammate down, so we all gotta step up. Little things are harder than the big things. I don't know how to socialize without getting anxious, yet I can work and go on GSE bids etc.. My analogy is my whole body is covered in bandaids and I keep having to rip them off one at a time. Some I've been forced to rip one off and deal when I don't want to, but I'm finding that sometimes that's the best way to get a little stronger everyday. I've learned that the first days are those of shock, then grief sets in. Shock has worn off and that's where we are now. Reality. For me this past week was harder than the first weeks. So I'm making sure I talk about it rather than shove it. I'm making sure the kids are talking about it and that they can talk to me as well. Wine helps too...haha
GSE is still running. His guys are working away and we've created new systems delegated and we're figuring it out. He did the hard work, which was building his name. Now we just have to carry it on. I ordered new GSE shirts for the guys today and his full company name 'Greg Schneider Enterprises, Inc' will be on them for us to always remember why we're doing this and the kind of work Greg would do.
It's a damn hard thing to lose your partner in life and best friend, but I'm sure grateful I got the time that I got. And I know one day I'll see him in my mind well and not sick. While I'm pissed we couldn't beat that damn cancer, we sure gave it a run and I'm at peace that he is not suffering anymore. Those last days were not anything like the earlier days. I'm glad God took him peacefully.
He passed with a smirk smile on his face, no joke. His jaw closed up and landed in a smirk. We all knew he was happy and at peace. Was the most surreal thing ever. That even his dad and I talked about how we wished we'd taken a picture just to prove it. Yes, sounds crazy, but it was so nice to see.
Thank you all again for your support. Love and hugs!
Jamie, Triston, Mia and Sierra
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