For my dear friend Ruth, there will be no long-stemmed roses slowly withering away, post Valentine's Day. There will have been no flowers or special chocolates, or plane trips to exotic places. My friend Ruth though showered and sheltered with friends' and families' love, will have graciously smiled, hugged us all and gone to bed alone with her aching heart. Ruth is wise and strong. She will do everything she can to drag herself through her mourning phase. But, Valentine's Day will not have been easy. Two weeks ago, she lost the love of her life. Ten years of an adventurous and loving marriage ended abruptly when her larger than life, constantly curious, generous and ever energetic husband's body was voraciously devoured by chomping cancer cells. As with African fire ants, no structure is left. Roger's death touched thousands. I was one of those who mourned. Thus, my own Valentine's Day, cherished as I felt, was just a little less sweet.

He was my friend of thirty years. When fire destroyed my home and I lost direction, he sheltered my husband and myself until we could find a new path. His home was ours as long as we wanted. Roger's acts of quiet kindness were like that. No differently than the way he received his steak of the month or fruit of the month, we were the fortunate recipients of his generosity of the month.

Two months ago, Ruth received the diagnosis that every woman fears: breast cancer. Minor surgery and her course seemed to be clear sailing ahead. Ever optimistic Roger uncharacteristically choked on his words. We women, smiled our secretly smug smiles as we sought each other out.-After all he's a guy and guys don't talk about feelings we said, our female arrogance shrouded in our shared myths about our men.

Only one week later, Roger still wasn't talking and Roger was not himself. It was his turn to go to the doctor. Diagnosis: esophageal and liver cancer. Prognosis: two months to live. Two months and one week later, Roger, of the big heart left Ruth broken hearted as he slipped away from her, from his family, from those who loved him.

Roger's passing leaves a hole in the world. He was the kind of guy who takes up that much space. But, it is Ruth whom I fret about. Ruth, who must find reason to go on. Ruth, who was without her long time love this Valentine's Day. The flowers left from his memorial celebration will have already begun to wither. And, we who loved this couple will helplessly hold Ruth in whatever ways we can as we ache for her, ache for ourselves and watch the roses die.

Life is too hard to do alone,

Dr. D.

Dorree Lynn, PH.D.

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