On a bright October day in 2004 Ralph was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia. He fought a valiant battle against the disease but lost. His journey ended on another sunny autumn day, October 16, 2005.
On this fifth anniversary of Ralph’s death, here are some things I remember:
He was an optimist. When the doctor told him bluntly, “You have a 95% chance of being dead in five years," he saad, “Well, somebody has to be in that other 5%. Why not me?”
He loved computers and never went anywhere without his laptop. I often felt we were a menage a trois—Ralph, the laptop, and me.
He saw himself as a problem solver and named his computer business Solution Providers.
In the hospital, he set up an office in the corner of his room and kept working through the chemo.
He was a math whiz but a poor speller. On our first date, on Valentine's weekend, he brought me a card with my name misspelled: T-h-e-m-a. He did learn to spell my name correctly, but he often called Gayle, our office manager, to check on spellings of words in his business proposals.
He adored our granddaughter Gabriella. The last thing he did before starting his hospitalization was to carve a pumpkin for her for Halloween. The last time he left his hospital room before he died a year later was to have a final visit with her. Because children were not allowed on the bone marrow transplant floor, his doctor arranged for a special wheelchair to take him down to the lobby so he could say goodbye to Gabriella.
Although he often said, “They’re just cats,” he loved his pets, especially Hal, the beautiful, striped cat he found in a drawer in our garage.
His favorite pet as a kid was a crow named Blackie, who stole clothespins off the neighbors' lines.
He was a great cook, often inventing recipes (unlike me, who always follows them to the letter.) On Thanksgiving he always cooked the turkey, and each year we were required to say, “Ralph, this is the best turkey you’ve ever made.”
He liked hot food, the hotter the better, and along with the turkey and regular dressing, he always made jalapeno dressing, too.
He was interested in politics, followed every campaign and even on his first full day in isolation in the hospital, which was also the day of the 2004 Presidential election, he badgered me about going to the polls.
He loved to tease, especially his sister Karen. One year at a computer show, he had a picture taken, then had it cut into a jigsaw puzzle and sent the pieces to Karen as a birthday gift.
He liked raising plants and made me promise I would not cut down the Monster, his enormous split-leaf philodendron that gobbled up more than half the space on our patio. I haven’t.
He could repair anything, from computers to cars, which is why I never learned to fix things around the house.
His favorite radio shows were “Car Talk” and “Prairie Home Companion,” his favorite TV show “Monk.” I have never been able to listen to or watch any of them since he died.
He encouraged and supported me in everything I undertook.
He was a good friend, a good husband, a good man, and I miss him. He was the wind beneath my wings.
