Thank you to everyone who could make it my dad's service on Sunday the 29th. We apologize for the service so soon after his passing and know that more of you could have made it if we had given more notice but we appreciate your understanding in having it before Margaret had to return to California and before the end of the year. There was something nice about wrapping up 2013 with all of the bad stuff contained within it and having a fresh start to 2014 yesterday morning. 
The service was beautiful. We were able to connect with Father Dann from the Church of the Advent in Madison, GA and who leads the congregation at the UGA student Episcopal Center. He was able to craft a unique and personal service that included some of my dad's favorite hymns: Lift High the Cross and All Things Bright and Beautiful. We closed the service by singing Brahm's Lullaby in German - one of my dad's favorites from the last few months. 
My husband Chris made the urn for my dad's ashes (pictured above). My dad asked him to do it several months ago and Chris had many ideas for it including making it out of teak, a favorite of my father's, and teaching himself how to turn on a lathe. Typical to my dad however, he had his own ideas: a box made out of 3/4 inch plywood and measuring 10 x 6.5 x 7 with a cross on top. With the help of Charlie Wooten's woodshop, it turned out lovely and is correctly made for the Green burial requirements setup by Honey Creek Woodlands; His final resting place at the Monastary of the Holy Cross in Conyers, GA. 
My sister Margaret and my Aunt Elisabeth (my dad's sister) both gave beautiful eulogies to the memory of my dad. I will post both here along with the program from the service so that those of you not in attendance can feel the tone of the service. It was one of love and remembrance and friends and celebration and it was perfect. My dad would have loved it. 

Eulogy By Margaret Goerig

He was a worldly man, my dad. Before he could even walk very well, he was on the go. Granted his first journey was not a happy one, nor was it his choice; he was a toddler and already a refugee, being carried in the arms of his oldest sister to get from the Sudetenland, where he was born, to Germany, where he would be raised. Maybe that’s why, as long as I knew him, he seemed to be a willing pilgrim, going wherever he was called as if he was being by carried.

Some great force eventually brought him to the United States, where he had a few adventures, before he finally met my mom, married her and had my sister and me. Even then he did not stop moving. His job called him across the country often but because he was a family man, he always took one or all of us with him in some way— be it an invitation to join him for the week, or by bringing a souvenir home to prove that he was thinking of us somewhere between the airport and his hotel room.

I eventually grew old enough to begin wandering the world myself, and so the first place I went was Wyoming, the summer I turned eighteen. Then it was California. Then I made a temporary return to Georgia but not without living for a semester in Toronto, Canada. Then I moved to Virginia, and later Spain, before Mexico, before a huge continental road trip that finally ended with me in California again, where I live now. It was a fifteen-year cycle to get back to where I had started and he was beside me many steps of the way. He and my mom helped me move at least half those times, but I cannot count all the boxes they packed and unpacked, and then later repacked, nor how many fans and lights my dad assembled and hung, only to later take them down and disassemble them again, nor all the miles they drove together with my stupid stuff in tow. Then, once I was settled, he always came to see me on multiple occasions— sometimes with my mom, sometimes alone, but always willing.


The diagnosis of his tumor came just a few weeks after his last trip out to see me. He and my mom had grown tired of all my boxes that I had been blatantly stashing in their basement and attic for about a decade, and so they jumped on a sliver of time in the fall, just before winter would cast its white, impassable blanket all across the mountains that separated us. They rented a U-Haul, drove the nearly three thousand miles to reach me, delivered all my things with their usual good-humored smiles, and stayed just long enough to be perfect house guests. Then they were on their way again, back to their home, where a fourteen-month struggle was awaiting all of us.

In the e-mail that my dad sent after his first MRI, he sounded dazed. We were all dazed. He had already battled prostate cancer years beforehand, and he was still contending with kidney failure, showing so much character and strength in the way he was tackling his dialysis; it was simply unfair to ask him to fight a brain tumor. And it was not just any brain tumor, either; it was the worst kind— the sort of killer in the night, who has found all the doors and windows locked, and thus dug in from under the foundation, up through the floorboards, slashing his way through every room in his path. The options to stop it were no less brutal: drilling into his head; leaving him wounded and confused; dripping poisonous fluids into his veins and making him sit under torturous beams of light, barely breathing through a hideous plastic mask that resembled something from a horror film.

In the end, these options would only buy time. But my dad took the deal. In his usual way, he was willing to embark on this voyage he had been called upon to make, and anyone who has read his blog knows that he was scared; he was unsure but he was also brave and I never saw him look back.


I have said a lot of goodbyes in my life. I have lived a lot of places and known a lot of people, and so farewells become part of that territory. I have never grown to like them, however, and my least favorite has always been the sort where I am the one to stay behind. It does not matter what beautiful landscape has surrounded me at the time; it does not matter if the parting is temporary, for the rule has never wavered: it is always easier to be the one who leaves. 

I know the moments that follow a person’s departure well: there is a palpable ache as the silence settles into the empty space between the walls. That can go on for awhile but at some point, regular routine must make its return; there are dishes from the previous night’s bon voyage dinner, or sheets to strip from the guest bed, or trash to empty and appointments to keep and shopping to do. But in the midst of all those distractions, there is always some amount of consciousness that the person who has left is suspended between the point of departure and the point of arrival, and there will be a great moment of relaxation, when the message arrives that they indeed made it to wherever they were going, but until then, there is just a dull awareness of the passage of time and then an impulsive moment of looking at the clock and thinking: “I wonder if they’re there yet.” 


When my father passed, we were all in the house with him. My mom was one bed over, taking a nap, and I was one room over, dozing, and my sister was yet another room over, knitting, while my brother-in-law was in the basement, building the box for the ashes after the cremation. You could hear my father breathing in almost every corner. It was labored and it was determined and it was hard to listen to, but he was giving it his final all. Then it stopped and I snapped out of my drowse. So did my mother, so that by the time his chest had gone still and everything around him was quiet, we were all gathered by his side, feeling the warmth slowly ebb from his body.

We stayed there for awhile, talking to him, stroking him, letting it sink in that after all this, it was over. After all the caregiving from my mother and sister and aunts and uncles and nurses, and after all the cheering on the sidelines from the rest of his family and friends, and after all the visits to the doctors and the hospitals, and after all the medicine and the praying and the wishing and the phoning and the writing and the handholding and the struggling— after all of that, he was gone; he had left.


We trickled out of the room eventually. We puttered around. We tried to figure out who to tell and what to do and where to be and how to act. Then gradually, we made our way back to his side. And we stared, because he looked different. His mouth had been gaping in his last gasp and his eyes had been cracked open ever so slightly and his chest had been tilted up a little, as if that was where the life had been pulled right out of him. 

But at some point, that had changed, so that now his eyes were calmly shut and his torso was relaxed and his mouth was closed, the lips lightly pressed together with one corner turned up in a serene little half smile.

We looked at one another, asking did you do that? No, I didn’t do that; I wasn’t even here.


He had not been gone long enough for the question to even begin to work its way into my mind but it never needed to. I could tell by looking at him— we could all tell by looking at him that yes, he had indeed made it to where he was going.

My Aunt Elisabeth also presented an beautiful eulogy to my father: 

My brother Peter  --   

It would take days to describe my brother Peter, what he stood for and what a big heart he had. Speaking for all of my siblings who are far away is not an easy task, but I will try. 

Having an older sister and brother, I was spoiled often, but also had many opportunities of spoiling and teasing my 3 younger brothers, Peter, Walter and Gerhard, as older sisters are known to do. 

Peter arrived in Georgia, on Dec. 27, 1962, and left this world on Dec. 27th, exactly 51 years later….  What a planner he was !!!

As any of you who have known him for a while must know, he was a real U.S. immigrant success story !! But I would like to share some of his early days with you first. 

When Peter arrived in our balmy GA winter climate, having left wintry Germany, I am sure he was the only 19 yr. old in Cobb County who ran around shirtless and in shorts…..  yelling at the top of his lungs, “Ich liebe dieses Land…. Es ist WARM hier…..I love this country…. It is WARM here.” Priorities, priorities !!! Sponsoring someone at that time was relatively easy even though I had only arrived 18 months earlier. All one had to do was prove and attest to that the person had a job, was not homeless, and would not become a ward of the State. Peter qualified on all counts but did not speak English; however, since he had completed his 3-yr. apprenticeship as a furniture maker, he got a job, working mornings in a cabinet shop and attended English classes in the afternoons.  His first English sentence was, “brought to you by”….. So, I always knew how he had spent his spare time while I was at work.   

But it was not too many years later that he was able to do the NY Times Sunday crossword puzzles without peeking.

After six months with me, he had to register with the Draftboard, so decided to volunteer instead in order to have a choice of areas of interest to be involved in. Since he loved communications and tinkering (more on that later), the Signal Corps was the perfect fit for him. Fortunately, he did not retain much of the “Slang-Lish” he picked up from Uncle Sam while serving his new country honorably for 3 years. After that time, his biggest worry being that the German Draft Board might get wind of his release, and he would be returned to GY to serve there. The reason being that he had heard that Army food was even worse there…. 

What Peter also brought with him was his strong work ethic, old-fashioned dependability, and determination to succeed (some might call it German stubbornness….. I wouldn’t know about that). 

Peter was a life-long learner and never lost his curiosity to go into unknown areas of knowledge.

Peter was a tinkerer  ---  there were not many things he could not take apart but also fix. There was a time when as kids we had to hide our only alarm clock because he just had to go into the works repeatedly. I have a feeling that many of you, along with me, benefitted from his technical skills !!!

Peter loved to communicate and I think one of the hardest things for him when his brain and memory were starting to fail him was that at times, he needed extra time to articulate what he was trying to say and, therefore, was AFRAID OF  NOT BEING HEARD….

One of Peter’s missions during the last 3 months of his life, and his New Normal, as he called it, was collecting smiles from anyone but especially strangers. The way he went about this was to start with a compliment. His goal was 2/day and you can imagine how surprising that might have been to some people, possibly even embarrassing to some. The amazing thing for me, as I witnessed some of these incidents, was how people responded in the most positive ways by sharing their stories, laughing, or even praying with him, as once at Home Depot.  Now, who would take time for doing that in this busy World ???

Another dream was that he hoped to provide dialysis care to a PKD patient in India who his Nephrologist had mentioned to him. 

He also loved to share jokes and got child-like pleasure from seeing people’s reactions to even the corniest jokes…. You might even have been on the receiving end of some of them.. While it is said that Germans do not have a sense of humor…..we do try !!! 

Peter was a wonderful provider and loved to take care of his family. This included his extended family; he literally changed jobs in order to be able to work from home for years and take care of his aging and ailing father-in-law !! 

One of his biggest worries he shared with me toward the end was that he might have left some loose ends undone. But even with his failing memory he was still able to take care of his investments so that his family would not suffer financially after his death.

I believe, one of the best examples of his considerate ways is the fact that Peter decided to leave this world before his family had to carry out the difficult medical recommendation to discontinue dialysis treatments. 

Another example being, that his family find him with a very peaceful expression on his face !!  

Along with his curiosity to learn new things, Peter loved to travel and discover new regions of the World, even when his dialysis treatments made this very difficult.  

Regrettably, he was not able to carry out his wishes to spend more time by the Atlantic which he loved, as well as visit his home country and the birthplace of our beloved mother one more time. Whenever we visited Germany, our first and last stop would always be at our parents’ gravesite; and one of Peter’s last spoken words was “HOMESICK”…..

I am very thankful that all of our siblings were able to visit and assist in various ways in the care and comfort of our brother during the past 13 Months plus. As many of you may know, our sister Gerta left two weeks ago, as our brother Walter and his wife Brigitte, a retired Geriatric Care Nurse, arrived. 

I am also thankful that I live close enough, as it has been a very special privilege to be able to assist in Peter’s care during these months. However, having a local home base these last two weeks made it even easier, so thank you Carol for arranging it. Thank you Hillary, Margaret, and Chris for helping me keep Peter’s favorite evening song going (Chuck’s humming too….). I do believe Peter felt, if not knew, we were there, singing for him !!! Quite an acapella group we were…. Even though we did not come close to Gerta’s soprano, Walter’s tenor and Brigitte’s alto voices  !

Special thanks to dear Chuck who volunteered to give up part of his Winter break to help in such a loving, caring, and supportive way and make sure that I did not skip any meals…..!!!

As we leave our brother, I would like to share a favorite Native American quote which is printed in German on his wreath:

                                                    “I was here,

                                                      I had to leave, 

                                                      I left few footprints,

                                                      But the wind heard my song.”


Thank you for coming.

Elisabeth Carter

December 29, 2013 

The Program from the Service:
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File Type: pdf
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My dad will be cremated and we are having a memorial service and reception for him tomorrow evening - 
Sunday December 29 at 5pm. 
The memoriam will be held at Bernstein Funeral Home 3195 Atlanta Highway, Athens, GA 30606. Directions HERE
In lieu of flowers we ask that charitable contributions be made in his name to Athens Canine Rescue HERE or to the American Kidney Fund HERE
We will have a graveside interment service in the Spring at his final resting place of Honey Creek Woodlands on the grounds of The Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers, GA and details of that will follow as the date nears. 
My dad passed away at 3:05pm this afternoon. We were all home and my mom had been napping in the same room with him when he stopped breathing. It seems unreal that his journey is over and that we had to say goodbye but we are all very relieved that he has found peace. Coincidentally today is also the 51st anniversary of his move to the USA from Germany.
Memorial service arrangements are TBD and we will post them here ASAP. 
Thank you all for your love and support to my family, especially over the last year. 
Dad's still ticking along. He's still more or less unconscious with small periods of lucidity, even attempting to speak at times. He developed a nasty case of hiccups yesterday that we can't get to cease. It sounds like it is very uncomfortable but we don't have any solution for it other than to try some haloperidol which didn't work. Lots of family and friends coming through. It's been great to see all the familiar faces. One of these days we'll decorate our Christmas tree but it has been nice just seeing it with the lights on and smelling the pine fragrance. Margaret arrives Tuesday and we can't wait to have her back with us. Keep thinking of my dad and enjoy the weekend
Today marked the 5th day that my dad has been more or less unconscious. He has awoken for a few minutes each day to interact non-verbally: stroking my dog's foot, smiling, blinking, nodding. He does not seem to be in any pain, which is good. My mom and I have gotten very good at being LPNs. We change him, adjust his position, clean his teeth, wash his face, apply lotion to his legs and back, do his nightly dialysis, administer meds in a way we never thought we'd have to. We can even change the sheets on the bed with him in it. The hospice nurses dropped off a suction machine yesterday and trained us on how to remove extra fluid from his mouth as he is too weak to do so on his own. My Aunt Lis and Uncle Walter and his wife Aunt Brigitte are here now as is my husband Chris and they are all helping us immensely with the endless caregiving and household chores that accumulate. 
I'd like to take the opportunity to thank all of you that have helped us along this painful and difficult path. From letting us put an extra bag in your trash can on trash day to lending us your house for overflow guests to driving to Duke to grocery shopping to baking cookies to sitting with my dad to bringing over greasy burgers and fries for one of my dad's last real meals to leaving comments of support and encouragement on this blog. You've all helped us so much and we won't ever be able to verbalize it appropriately or with enough gratitude but know that what you did and still do for us has closed the gap on how vast and overwhelming this year has been. 
Please continue to send strength to my dad. 
Ok so I have tried to write this stupid blog like 3 times and this program keeps crashing. Instead of a really elaborate, detailed update on my dad you will get a Cliff's Notes version. I apologize. I know you have all been in the dark for some time about what is happening to my dad. I can fill you in from about Nov 12 which is when I arrived at my parent's house. We began my trip home by walking an hour a day around Lake Herrick, dining at Five and Ten, visiting nightly over a Manhattan (mine) and a Green Tea (his). This relative normalcy changed quite rapidly as he began falling, speaking more agitatedly, being incoherent/detached at times, and talking a lot about suicide. At a routine nephrology appointment, his doctor was so alarmed by his behavior and mood that checked him into Athens Regional. He spent 4 nights there and they did another MRI. He had the one at Duke at the end of Sept that showed the tumor had returned and was about 3 cm. The one here showed that it was now 9+ cm. In two months. That means that the Avastin and CPT-11 treatments he was receiving (the agressive treatment he always mentioned) had done nothing. Duke University and Northeast Georgia Cancer Care officially stopped treating my dad's cancer on Thanksgiving Day. On Dec 1, he entered St Mary's Hospice. He's been at home and seen regularly by the extraordinary hospice nurses who come at all times of the day to see that he has meds, is bathed, to answer our myriad questions, to bring any little thing that gives my dad comfort. It's a bit odd to make the switch from life-saving medicine to comforting medicine. It's a bit like driving a 2WD car, top speed, up the side of a mountain only to be told halfway up that you can turn around and coast back down to the bottom. It takes a while to forget that you were trying so hard to reach the top. My dad settled into hospice well and for the first ten days we had relatively unchanged days and nights. He was still mostly mobile and we also had tools to keep his quality of life up like the wheelchair (pictured above with his sister, Gerta) and the shower chair, etc. Tuesday night he began complaining of a severe headache. When the Tylenol did nothing and his pain, fear and agitation were rapidly increasing, my mother called Hospice who naturally came right over and administered small doses of Morphine until he could sleep. He said he -amazingly- still had the headache however. He did sleep all night and then all day and then his vitals freaked out and his blood pressure was WAY up then his temp was WAY up and then he slept all day yesterday, not even to take food or water. We were concerned but we gradually got his vitals under control. This morning he began blinking his eyes and squeezing our hands when we asked him to. He also began grunting but not speaking until tonight when he began speaking only slurred German in small 3 word phrases. 
We are about to have a house full of visitors from Germany and Texas and South Carolina and I know all of you probably want to communicate with him, too. The best way to do so is to write a blog comment and I will read it aloud to my dad. He is overwhelmed by in-person visitors at the moment and we are hoping to be better able to accommodate guests in the next few days while he gets stronger. Your understanding is appreciated. Your thoughts and prayers are always close to his heart and they help him immensely. 
Join us in wishing my dad a peaceful night tonight and a strong day tomorrow. 
A few weeks ago I posted the lyrics to this Willie Nelson song "Nothing I Can Do About It Now" and no one commented. I thought I'd give you the song to listen to and see what you thought after listening. For the record I disagree with Mr. Nelson. I think there is always something you can do about it. -as dictated and transcribed by my daughter, Hillary


Today was adoozy, but I survived as the pix showed. There was some headache and stomach disorder, but Carol stoppe d at ZmcDonalds for me and thecdiuble cheeseburger stsyed down alongcwithvthe ice tea chaser. And I walked around the block whenbZi got home! I thought that was a success love your comments and your well wishes. Remember you can email or reach me on Facetime at my Apple address(get rid of the Charter. They have lost a number of my mails, because of the cloud transfer. Use instead! God bless, Peter


NOTE! You may finish this particular post or scroll back to the posts where I used methapors such paradigms to assist me in finding this new " Normal

I also received input that I may have neglected to bring on board and as a result they were confused to what I was doing. That is what I am trying to accomplishthis morning, but I also want to be clear, that I am not a writer! Truth to be toldmy night school English teacher way back at Morristown NJ! Would be horrified at my sentence structures , syntax, etc. but hey I passed the 4 day long GED test allowing me to gain emplyment with acgood company. I am also relaying on your brain, which scientifically has been proven to fill in the blanks , including spelling. Also think great writers like Shakespeare require Notes to get you through chapters on Hamlet, right? The last sentence may have been a but harsh, but it was intented as an answer for my own deficiencies.

Through millenia , settlers of Planet Earth knew, that some day creatures such as humans or animals had to make this final journee, what we simply call death! It could be through natural causes where the body just shuts down i doubt it if I would have started a search for my own

I doubt it , if I required a search for my new "Normal however it became a live saver or sort of battlecry allowing meto sort through my dilemma. let's face it I have been dealt a plethora of serious healthcissues, including the latest, that my cancer had returned an will require aggressive treatments. What makes the oncologist's job harder is that I have also bad kidneysand that I require daily dialysis! My body over the pastfew years all the way back to when I was born had to struggle hard just to beat the odds as Helene with Frsenius told me once. The kidney issues are heritidary and my mom passed on the faulty gene to me and my brother unwittingly, just as I did for both of my beloved daughters! I seeked out medical support through Dr Arlene Chapman at Emory and even participated in a cohort study financed by our government. I made changes to my diet,, because research showed at the time, that thevwrong nutrition actually impair the kidneys. We thought we were making progress on the short term to stave off dialysis, just to find out 2 years ago, that my time had come to start dialysis. There are two types. The common Hemo dialysis usually administered in a clinic twice axweek, but this method , because of the high pressures applied is difficult on your body. So I opted for peritoneal dialysis wherethrough asurgically implanted catheder you are hooked up to what is known as accycler on acnightly basis, easier on your body because the toxins are removed prior to entering the blood stream!and since the taskcan be performed by the patient it makes for a better and patient controlledqualityof life. Shortly after I was placed on peritoneal I packed up and flew out to California to take care of my daughter's and roommate 's animals for a month! Her dog and myself drove along the coast of California all the way to Crater Lake Oregon. I even managed to reconnect with an Army Buddy. I had the time of my life for two months. That was the proof for me, thatthere was life after dialysis. Then I hadcto face up that cancer had snuck into myvprostate an I opted for the radical removal surgery. Obvioudly thatvhadcacmajorimpact on my manhood. It is now known that many men after prostatectomy suffer from heightenedcdepression , probably similar data exist for women impctingctheir womanhood. OK what does that have to do with mysearch for my new normal now?we talked earlier about death. Some people deal with it their own way i remember severalvyears ago attending a funeral and one attendee greeted It was his friend I assumed. Hey John it is good to see , but you are getting up in years,, are you going to be next? It almost floored me, and I thought it had tobe the most unsensitive comment I had evercwitnessed! Some people cannot bring themselves to face death understandably so. We all have been part of a loved one departing and as caring survivor we have shared information such as " he is with peace with god. I have been extremely fortunate that although it is the worst category of brain cancer rated at 4, the top assigned number. Goint to Duke and finding Dr Friedman the surgeon, has given me a new lease on life, indeed a special gift on Nov 16 , last year he managed to remove the entire mass according to MRI scans taken right after the surgery. Subsequent treatments such as radiation and Chemo andstrong steriods turned me into moon face, bearly indications seemed to be pronusing, until a couple weeks ago when strongxheadaches an impaired daily activities suchxas tiengxyour own shoes were indicative that somethingxwas remiss. mRI's supported the fact that an additional mass had reappeared and after three days we were informed that they could not perform surgery again as the new mass had shufted!

At that time it hit me likecton of bricks and the need fo my own acceptance became very important

I don' t know when my timecwill come but I decided to hit theissues associated head on!one thing became clear, my healtvissues hadcplaceda tremendous load on them an I couldn't continue in this mode constantly Carol, and both my girls my family in Germany as all siblings came to visit, even a couple if distant nieces. My sister living in Mariettaand steppingcfirward and others friendshadLike Dee seem to have aclockvgo off ehen I would love a chicken buscuit and jyst shows up exactly at thexright time valiantlybecause of my serious healthcissues thecdictor's have disallowed me from driving. Carol had to carrycthis load and it has frustrated me to the point ifcunhappiness, that shechas tivkeeo up with my medicationensuring that I get mycdialysis done and deal with me and mycmood changes as axresult of the steriods and others.   Add to that , that I still want to be ofuse! One plan would have me flycto California andrent a house and Margaret ciuld look in on me and we couldcreate relief for Carol. Thecother wouldxinvolvecHouston Texas and perhaps gather a secondmedicalcopinion from Dm Anderson clinic as we had encountered occasional disconnects from Duke to the cancer Centwr here in Athens! I discussed the plan associated with theckead oncologist Dr Vrana and he counselled it as unwise and very bluntly told me thatthectreatments scheduled here in Athens would becthe same in Houston! He even went one step further and said that if I wasxaware a delay could be construed as a suicide attempt. That got mycattention

Consequently, I made the decision as part of my new Normal or survival guide. To keep fighting back, that for thexfireseeable future I wouldxstick with mycexistingmedicalcteam, stillbinvolving Duke and Dr Vrana, but wexwill have toctighten the orocess. I will also explore where I would live, because if thexearlier discussion. I will attemtt to findinner happiness, happiness,despite mycmiserable healthissues that is why I need to be sel reliant, that makes mechappy and as long as I am physically able to perform certain tasks, that producesxinner strengthcwithin me! Hillary saidit is too bad thatI am not Chicago or New York where public transportation wouldxallow me mirecoptions, withoutxa car! Well yesterday. I wound upcwalking from Cvs at Alps home around 3 miles andxstop forcfresh bead an pumpkin spicecfrozen yoghurt alongcthexway. Even attended a neighbor's garage sale and broufht back a n heir loom silent butler. It gave me an incredible lif, although I wasxtired and I had left myccellvphone unchargedxat home. I will haveto modify mycapproach incthexfurure, be cause it left Carol and Dee full ofcworries regarding mycwhhereabouts, butcnow I can feel easier about mycupconingxstressxtest with the cardiologist nextweek!

Part ofvmyfinal chaptwrcrequest iscthat I am full of gratitude to all of you including mycfamily and curcle ofxfriends who supported me in my old normal, so as I transitioncliser to my hopefully settled down ne wNormal' that I can include in my new Normal or new Life ifu will". I would love to ask you face to face for your consent as I havexdone alreadybecause I don't want to assume anything. Undercthe current circumstances that may be inpossible. Consequently, if youvibdeed wantcto join me in my search for my new "normal then drop me avline via mycnew Apple email ID. I establidhed it exactly for thatxpurpose andcitherxtechnical reasons. It comes right to my Ipad and it is easy tocremember. Pgoerig@me.comi will try to cobtact you either via phone or if you are a Facetime user you can reach me viacthat method. Itcis simikar to Skype but bettwr in quality andcyouvcan getrid ofTge Charterr charter ID. They were losing my messagesxanyway!