His message to us and to everyone he knew was the through the words of Bob Marley, "Don't Worry, 'bout a thing! 'Cause every little thing's gonna be all right!" Forever blessed by the West Johnston High School Marching Band for sharing the music of that song at his funeral. It was not "typical" for a funeral, but then, Leslie was not a typical man! When asked once by a cashier who noticed his band dad shirt, how many kids he had in the band, Leslie responded without a moment of hesitation, "Over 100!!" The cashier was taken back, chuckled, then said, 'No, I mean how many are YOURS?" Leslie thought for the barest of moments, smiled and said, "Over 100! They are all my kids!!! I love them all!"

Leslie's Quotes: "Don't mess with me!! I have a condition!!" "No, I can't schedule chemo late in the week!! It has to be Mondays so that I am recovered enough for the weekends!! We have competitions on weekends and I can't let my band kids down!"

https://www.cancercenter.com/community/blog/2018/09/caring-for-the-caregiver-tips-for-navigating-an-unpredictable-path?invsrc=kmd_referral&utm_campaign=nov2019&utm_medium=partner_social&utm_source=coloncancercoalition&utm_content=twitterpost&t_ch=community_outreach&t_pur=awar&t_med=on&t_bud=phx

I wrote the following just several weeks before my husband passed away. It represents how the experience felt as we began our journey. As fast as a bullet through flesh, and no less traumatic, it rips your legs out from beneath you. You struggle to give your feet purchase in the course, cutting sand while the waves toss you like an ice cube in a blender, smashing you down onto the ocean floor, denying bone and muscle like you are a ragdoll with no control. It pulls you out, further from shore, teasing you with an occasional glimpse of land, a momentary gasp of air to quickly fill your lungs before plunging you beneath the foamy currents. It doesn’t matter how hard you fight, the waves thunder like laughter, owning you, controlling you. Like a puppet with tangled strings, it forces your movements in your new distorted world. It began normally enough. Another day of treading water, moving with the waves as they swept us up and over before gently rolling us to the other side. Finally, beyond the breakers that we had struggled to surpass, we allow the waves to rock us to the sandbar upon which we had set our sights. We’ve made it this far, pushing through every crash of whitecaps to reach the other side. Trusting that things will begin to smooth out, we allow ourselves to admire the view ahead. As far as the eyes can see, promising an infinite expanse of hopes and dreams ready to be seized, the sun glitters like diamonds on the ocean before us. It’s funny when you look behind, back to the shore to see the distance you have traveled. You consider those breakers that you worked so hard to breach. They seemed so daunting, nearly impossible, as they would crash into you, trying with might to push you back to shore. You reflect on how they had knocked you over, causing you to cut your hands and legs on the broken shells that had previously fallen victim to the relentless push and pull of the tides. There were times they struck so hard you felt the breath forced from your lungs and you doubted you would ever reach the other side. Alone, you never would have made it, but you were not alone and together, you braved the waters. When one slipped, the other could brace and balance, bearing the brunt for both. Sometimes, you were both equally strong, other times, you would take it in turns being the rock for each other, always hand-in-hand bravely facing each challenge. Together, you knew there was nothing that you couldn’t face. Unfortunately, the roar of the ocean crashing in your ears muffled the distant rumble of thunder. The winds had picked up and the clouds began to mask the brilliance of the sun, a foreshadowing of a brewing storm that you were confident would pass. You had checked the weather, several times. Secretly, deep down, you worried about an imminent storm. You sensed a change in pressure, the atmosphere seemed to forebode of unrest. Regardless, you trusted the professionals who promised fair conditions in spite of an overcast sky. You closeted your own doubts and concerns behind the doors of assurance from multiple meteorologists who declared partly cloudy with a chance for gray skies that would pass without incident to a clear and sunny future. Trusting in their knowledge, in their experience with weather, you set forth on your journey through the waves. With a false sense of security, that’s when it hits. It’s quick and without warning. It’s sneaky. The water flows above, smooth like glass, while beneath, it ebbs, shifting the sands, unsettling the ground on which you stand. You feel the teeter, adjust your stance never once assuming you would lose your balance. Thus, you stand, breathing normally, completely unaware that lurking beneath the silken surface is a single current, coiling towards your feet, intent solely on claiming your air and filling your lungs with salty brine. The suddenness with which it strikes leaves you dazed and confused, unsure exactly what is happening. In a moment not long enough to take a breath, the flash of land mixed with vast horizon twists and spins, tormenting your senses. The water burns your nose as you are caught in its foamy grip. You desperately seek to maintain your clasp on each other, hands slipping, separating, until only the crook of your fingertips connects you. You battle to bear the struggle together, fighting the drowning pull as the water finds a way to wrap like seaweed around your legs trying to pull you beneath. Together, you could defeat anything. But nature is determined to prove you are not in control. It finally pulls you apart, hands reaching out to each other as the waves cast you out onto a different journey. You float on a parallel course, but each current has a different plan. One demands its pound of flesh while the other tosses you aside like an unwanted pet to survive or not, because you are of no consequence in this war. No matter the effort you invest, the tide that drags him further out to sea is the same that eventually pushes you back toward the shore, helpless to assist. The breakers once again crashing over you, more relentless now that you are alone and defenseless to fight the repetitive onslaught of white caps that threaten to drown you. Without his support, the waves force you to your knees, making you somersault through the murky tide as you eventually crawl onto the shore hopelessly looking for a way to help. On your hands and knees, you can only watch as the merciless water pulls him further out, further away. He has escaped the first under-toe, but the currents are still a jumble of separate whirlpools, bubbling like a sea of hot tubs between him and the safety of shore. As you watch helplessly, you reflect on the man fighting a battle that is both deeper and broader than the ocean before you. You know in your soul he is a strong swimmer, probably the strongest swimmer there is. He is your hero who has never backed down from a challenge, who faces each one with a humor and subtle strength. He is kind, strong, gentle, the best dad EVER, generous and caring. He is one of the truest people whose only goal in life is to serve others and do everything in his power to make the world better for the next person. It is so unfair, this riptide that chose him. As if he’s strapped to a bungie, he pulls against the elastic tide and we think he will make it, before it cruelly snaps him back into the depths. You desperately search for a way to help, knowing anything you do will fall short. From your knees, you do all you know how to do, you pray. A prayer that he will remain strong, that the buoyancy of the water will allow him to tread when he’s tired and swim when he can, allowing him to keep his head above water until he can eventually defeat the torrential swells and make it safely back to shore. Though he’s tired, still he fights. At one time, he had been pulled so far out, we honestly didn’t know if he could make it back, but he has persevered. He has made it closer to shore, so close, I can almost reach his hand. It’s so hard to see him, trying so hard, wanting to help, wishing to take his place, and knowing I’m powerless. I watched him become so tired, but he is smart. He took the time to float. He gave his body the time to rest, before beginning to swim again. Now, stroke by stroke, he is making his way towards the beach again. He continues to fight the riptide of cancer...... Sadly, the tide pulled him in but not without a fight. He's at peace. That's what's important. I'll continue to stand on the shore, watching the waves, praying for those caught in the riptide, and for those on the shore helplessly watching.