The Bloom of the Penelope Rose
Her Dying Wish Was to Live Until Our Son’s Wedding

In “The Diary of Us vs. Cancer” I chronicled the four-month journey of my wife, Penelope O’Neill, from seeming excellent health to her death by cancer in August of this year. From the moment we heard the prognosis after discovery of her advanced metastatic gallbladder cancer (“You will have months, not years”), her goal was to survive to see the November marriage of our son, Danny, and his sweetheart, Jennifer. Penny had been a big part of the wedding planning since Danny proposed last Christmas. She collaborated with Jen’s mother to select the venue, to plan the rehearsal event and dinner, to work out the guest list from Danny’s side. She shopped like crazy, finding new dresses for each element of the two-day event. As her good friend, Sandy, told her: “You will need at least five dresses: the bridal shower, the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, the wedding itself, the morning-after brunch…and maybe more!” Well, Penny was all over that agenda, and the deliveries to our door from online shopping were well under way by April 8th: Day 1 of “Life After”. Life after the diagnosis, life after everything in our world changed, life after we learned that death was on the near horizon.
But the news did not deter her plan, and only made her more determined to make this the best wedding possible for her youngest son. She found beautiful silver-sequined Jimmy Choo shoes for the bride. She created an wedding day “emergency kit”… a large designer travel bag filled with a fix for every possible disaster: scissors, sewing kit, glue sticks, first aid kit, bobby pins. Nothing was going to stop this wedding from being drama-free and pure joy…and she was going to have a front-row seat. By the end of July, Penny was through nine sessions of chemo and the scans reported that her liver tumor was shrinking. The wedding RSVP’s were arriving daily, as was all of the new apparel. But then came the first week of August. Her weight and strength had steadily declined as the disease, the infusions of toxic chemicals, the narcotic pain medication all took their deadly toll. Contradicting the hopeful scan results, her last blood test disclosed a terrifying spike in the presence of cancer markers in her system. The cancer cells were running rampant and there was nothing to stop or even slow them. Within two days, she was unable to climb stairs or even to stand from sitting without help, and it was clear that we were on the final steps of her journey. Just after midnight on August 11th, as she lay in my arms, Penny left this life. The wedding plans were all set and final…. but there would now be an empty chair in the front row.
The following weeks were a mix of profound sadness and excited anticipation. We celebrated Penny’s life and basked in warm memories of Penny as wife, mother, co-worker and friend. The final details of the wedding planning were falling into place. One day in early September I received a package in the mail from a rose nursery in Central California: two plants of the Penelope Rose I had ordered shortly after her death. Our newly-landscaped back yard had a perfect spot for a large pot in which to plant them, which I carefully did. Over the following weeks, I tended to them as best I could…with no knowledge or experience about rose gardening.
As the wedding day approached, all of us began to feel a lightness, that the sun would shine gloriously, that Penny would be there after all. The rehearsal and dinner that followed were wonderful fun. Friends and relatives from all over the country were arriving by the hour. Then, all of the sudden it was upon us. Wedding morning dawned cold and clear, but the day promised to be warm for the ceremony on the country club patio. The wedding party arrived one by one, with attire in tow. As the hour approached, guests arrived to be offered glasses of champagne to precede the ceremony. Then, in the pace that always happens for an event planned for months, it was suddenly over. The bride and groom glowed, the crowd danced, the food and drink left the guests filled and smiling. A wonderful, wonderful ceremony and party, with toasts held high for the dearly departed who were nevertheless felt to be celebrating with us.
I arrived home late, tired but happy… for Danny, for Jennifer, for our family, for our future. I knew that Penny had been with us after all, her promise had been fulfilled, her love and pride had filled the room as much as the music. I fell into bed with a smile and slept warm and soundly. I awoke the next morning and sat with my coffee next to the door looking out on our garden. It took me a couple of sips before I glanced out at the big beautiful blue pot, with the ceramic garden marker I had prepared to read “Penelope Rose”. And there it was: the very first glorious yellow and pink blossom. Her smile. Her joy. Her happiness. She was with us indeed.
