To all my wonderful readers, friends and family.
I can't do it, and I am sorry. I know I promised you all that I would write the story of how Barry passed, but I can't. I started to write it October 4th, and managed to get up to the point where it started to go downhill, but I can't write the rest.
I am scared, and the mere thought of writing it makes my heart race. I am just not ready. I can recall everything in my head down to the last minute detail, but the actual task of really making myself recall everything won't be happening. I know it's partly because I don't want to break down, I don't want to cry right now, I just don't want to. I will do it eventually for the kids. I also got to thinking that maybe I shouldn't spill Barry's secrets on the internet. He was a very private person, and I just think maybe I should keep this for the family. I'm not trying to use that as a cop out, I promise. I just really don't want to portray him in any other light than what he deserves...
An amazing husband and father, and not the sickest patient at our hospital.
I will write my final "Dear Barry" letter tomorrow night. I wanted to do it at 11:11AM, but I'm going to be out all day. I'm getting a pedicure with my girlfriend, going out for tea after lunch with another girlfriend, and then taking the kids out to Barry's favorite restaurant for dinner. Trying to keep as busy as possible.