I awake, knowing 6 years ago to this very day our family's lives changed forever. The surgeon summons me to the post-op conference room to deliver a death sentence. Cancer is everywhere and this seasoned veteran is sure it's pancreatic. The next few minutes spin out of control. Calls to our boys... "I need you here immediately." And then I must tell my anesthesia-fogged husband the news. No doctor will tell my beloved that he must get his affairs in order; I can't take away hope just yet. Of course, I know that will come soon enough.
 I shall never forget the tear forming in the corner of his eye and my frozen sons. "Oh, God, give me your strength to make those final calls?  My daughter has a two-week old. " How, God? Why, God? "  I call my son-in-law; I think I might vomit.  
 What does one do on an anniversary day like this? I clean the garage while there is a short respite from the heat; I scrub until my hands hurt almost as much as my remembering heart. I look up a lot, not asking why anymore, but with a tear forming in the corner of my eye.