You heard it here

Guess who was on a podcast?! Me!

I recently had the opportunity to be a guest on Pam Baker’s podcast, The Lost Love Stories.

Pam is a legend in the CF community. I feel cheesy saying that, like I’m trying to puff her up, but I mean it. Pam has two sons with CF, both of whom are now in their twenties. Most notably, she and her family founded ShamRockin’ for a Cure, a St. Patrick’s-themed party that has raised more than $4 million for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. I feel like she’s involved in everything the CFF does—and I’m not convinced there’s only one of her. In addition to our CF connection, Pam and I have another thing in common: we’re both widows.

I was shocked when Pam’s husband, Jon, was diagnosed with glioblastoma in 2018. When I learned the news, Ramón and I were in our bedroom at our house on Heartwood Lane. I told him I couldn’t believe it—that the family already had so much on their plate. It didn’t seem fair that they’d get another serious diagnosis on top of what they were already facing. If life were a movie script, my conversation with Ramón would have been foreshadowing because he was diagnosed with leukemia diagnosis six months later.

In the midst of caregiving, I’d occasionally see an update from Pam that confirmed Jon was still defying the grim prognosis that’s common in glioblastoma. And each of these posts gave me hope that Ramón, too, would surpass whatever numbers were thrown our way. But sadly, our husbands didn’t prove to be invincible.

Ramón died in 2020, and Jon hung on until 2021. And now here we are, both deeply affected by CF and grief and podcasting about it.

I love talking about Ramón. Sometimes, in conversation, people say things that remind me of Ramón. When I point this out, I often hear the same response: “I’m sorry.” I insist, “No, I love things that remind me of him.” After all, I wouldn’t have brought him up if it was too painful.

I’ve never personally met anyone who didn’t appreciate the chance to reminisce about their loved one. I know those people exist—perhaps if the wound is too fresh—but, for the most part, we enjoy the opportunity to venture down memory lane. When I get an “I’m sorry” in response to my comment, I often fear I’ve made things uncomfortable. I’d rather people respond with curiosity, not an apology. Ask questions. Invite conversation.

For many of us affected by grief, it’s a chance to keep our loved ones alive.  

Thank you, Pam, for letting me unabashedly run my mouth about Ramón. It was a true gift.

Listen to the podcast or watch the recording on YouTube.