A farewell message for my love…

This SUCKS!
This really, really, REALLY sucks! We knew it would suck – we knew it would suck a LOT, but the level at which this sucks is far beyond our powers of extrapolation. Gravity feels 10 times stronger. Food has lost its taste. The sky is suddenly a lot less blue. Songs that we loved now all speak of death. It feels like all of life’s pleasures have been intricately attached to you, and they have all now left this planet with you. We have been tortured into a numbness that pervades every aspect of all waking moments. Getting through each day’s duties is an emotional marathon. Our hearts are not broken, they’re completely shattered!

There is no relief in saying goodbye to you. There is no relief that we have reached the end of the cancer journey, because you are not here to share it with. There is no relief that all the pain, discomfort, anxiety and dread associated with this disease is over – no, there is no relief, because we actually didn’t need any. We took it on together – you me and the boys - and we never let it beat us. People are saying you “lost” the battle but they don’t know – you were never beaten. WE were never beaten. No matter how hard it was, it was no match for our love! And I’m not sure people quite appreciated the strength of our love. There were moments when the physical pain was so bad that you would actually bite the duvet in agony – and I would lie helpless next to you, unable to do anything more than to whisper “I love you” and bring you more drugs or hot water bottles or whatever I could scramble. And as the pain would gradually subside you would be able to return the “I love you” - and we would have won. No, we were never beaten! And we never “lost!” We would have been more than happy to deal with the disease and all its painful effects until we were 80 years old – because our love was more than enough. We were never beaten! Death comes to us all – but we are only beaten when the imminence of our demise, or the trajectory towards it, robs us of our smiles, of our kindness, of our humanity. And you never lost your smile, you never lost your kindness, you never lost your humanity. You were never beaten! You never “lost” to cancer!

This world without you is so much darker. BUT, the world with you, whether in person or in memory, is still far, far brighter than any in which you never were. It is only natural that the depth of sadness we feel now has to be at a level deep enough to balance the heights of the love, the joy, the happiness, that we shared when you were alive. I selfishly wish that I could see one more smile, that I could have one more chance to make you smile, one more little morning note of love from the boys, one more “awww”, one more “I love you”, one more hug, one more doggie cuddle, one more tear of sheer joy, one more big picture conversation, one more analysis of politics, technology, climate change or the state of the world, one more “ta da” moment when you solve a tech problem, one more inspiring talk, one more song on the piano, one more chat about how grateful we are for this life. But we always knew there were never going to be enough moments, even if we did make it to that sunset at 80 years old, we would probably have said “this life together was simply not long enough”. And we would be as grateful then as we must be now – grateful for the moments that we were actually lucky enough to have.

Carolina’s final days in hospital were filled with love. Not just love from her family and friends, both through visits and so many messages, but also love from the nurses, love from the doctors, love from the hospital cleaning staff. As Reggie said, “sy het in jou hart gekryp” – she crept into everyone’s hearts. I’d be sitting at her hospital bedside and everyone who passed through would just want to comfort her, to help her, to give her the love and kindness that she somehow manages to inspire out of people. Maybe it was all this love, maybe it was her sheer strength, but Carolina exceeded all the doctors’ expectations. There were at least 3 or 4 times during her last hospital stay, when everyone was sure she would not make it through the night – and then morning would come and she would have miraculously bounced back. Even as the cancer spread – and this was an extremely aggressive cancer – she still, in those last days, kept beating the odds in terms of medical expectations, and surprising everyone with her sheer strength! I am told by all the doctors that when she finally passed away, she was on enough drugs to be free of any pain or anxiety. I find that I keep wanting to ask her how it went and if she was really ok – just to make sure. One thing I do know for sure, she passed away knowing how much she was loved – well, to a certain extent at least – I doubt she had any idea of the immense outpouring of love that she would receive after she left us, but I know she would have been infinitely grateful for it, as I am too! Thank you!

Some people may wonder why Carolina chose to be as open as she was about the ups and downs of this cancer journey. Ever the communicator, ever the educator, ever the motivator, she wanted to make people aware of this disease and its effects. She also just wanted to be honest. She did not want to hide anything from the boys or from those she loved. And she loved! She loved us all. She knew that what she was going through was not unique. She knew that this could happen – would happen – has happened – to anyone, to any of you, to any of those she loved, or even those she never met. And she wanted to show by example that it is still possible to live, to love, to smile, to be kind, no matter how gloomy a situation may be. When things were tough – another chemo session, another hospital stay, another scan – she would just shrug her shoulders and say with a smile “we dala what we must!” and then push through. Of course, we also recognised that we’re privileged, and she would acknowledge that there are many who do not have access to the healthcare that we do.
There’s that famous saying “everyone dies, but not everyone really lives”. Well, Carolina LIVED. And you can too. In fact, she wanted you to. While you are alive you have the opportunity to create your own legacy each day. You have the opportunity to be kind, to smile, to make someone else happy, to spread love – to be like Carolina. So that when your end comes, you can look back proudly and say that your time on earth was filled with love and kindness. Most importantly, Carolina was constantly grateful. Grateful for the life she lived, for her boys, for family, for our dog, for her work and the people she interacted with there, for patient and understanding employers, for her friends, for all the care she received from the hospitals, for the amazing teachers at the boys’ school, for our supportive neighbours, for our house, for her plants, for her tech, for chameleons on the island, for rainbows, for sunshine, for nature, for the universe. It’s hard not to be happy when you are grateful for so much! And when you are happy, you make others happy.

So, my love, let me end this by saying to you one last time all the things I kept saying to you in hospital during those last few days, even in those times when I had to be the one doing all the talking, this time it will hopefully be more coherent…

You’ve been the perfect mother: from carrying the boys inside you to the incredible efforts during childbirth to your diligent breastfeeding and giving them infinite love that will last throughout their lives. They always came first, even before yourself. There will always be more you want to give them but you’ve already given them best foundation ever – and that will make them better than you or I could ever be.
You’ve been the perfect dog mum: I have never known a happier dog. Berlioz knows how much he is loved. The bond between the two of you has never faltered since you fell in love with each other at the SPCA and this scrawny pup of unidentifiable breed came home with us.
You’ve been the perfect worker: Everyone loves Carolina and everyone appreciates working with you. Whether at your UNAWE, your Thumbzup, your UWC, your AfNWA, your AfAS, your Commission C2, your GA2024, your Inspiring 50, and so much more, everyone loves working with you. The many prizes you have won, the colleagues and students you have inspired, the people you have mentored. You can be proud of what you have achieved professionally and you already have a legacy that will never die.
You’ve been the perfect person in every way to everyone around you. Daughter, sister, friend, colleague, mentor, advisor, boss, tech support, teacher, and everything else you were to so many people.
For me, you’ve been the perfect partner: I would not have turned into the person I am without you. All the skills you say I have, all the things you praised me for. It was all because of your love, and the love we share in this family. We always looked forward to that sunset when we’re 80 – even long before we were married. Well, I’m going to stick to our plan and on your 80th birthday I will take your ashes to that sunset. And you’ll still be with me until then, because I’ll be wearing this ring until I die, and when I do die, I’ve given the boys instructions – they are going to mix my ashes with yours and I’ve now shown them exactly where to lay us down together in our special place.

So Thank You, my love! Thank you thank you thank you! You’ve changed the world! This planet is a better place for having had you in it. Well done! We’re all so, so proud of you! I’m proud of you, my love! Everybody loves you! You are surrounded by love, from near and far! There’s nothing to worry about now. Everything will be ok. You can be at peace. We’ll be ok, eventually. We will be super sad of course, but we’ll survive. You’ve made us strong and resilient. You’ve prepared us well. You’ve been so strong for so long. You can rest now. I love you.