For years, until 2013, the only importance for us of this date is that it is the birthday of the great genius Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, born in Salzburg Austria in 1756. I was a Music major, my wife Leaves on the Current has a life-long love of music even beyond its role in her passion for dance. She says that Mozart may be her favorite composer.
Mozart is how we prefer to remember this day.
But in 2013, on a Sunday evening, we walked down the block to our local hospital for what we thought was a routine MRI prior to her being referred for pain treatment on her back, only to discover that she had cancer.
I will not recapitulate the entire history - many have read as I have written about it over the past two years, many have been supportive.
A religious woman whose writing we both greatly admire, Lady Julian of Norwich, writes that she had prayed to God to give her a sickness almost to the point of death. We cannot say that either of us ever sought to emulate that approach. That first night in the hospital, when the preliminary diagnosis was a metastatic organ cancer, we became very focused, wondering how much or little time we might have left together.
Fortunately it turned out to be an eminently treatable blood cancer. Leaves on the Current responded well to treatment, so they decided to be aggressive, and the following October she had a stem cell transplant. She is considered to be in complete remission - although we know the cancer is likely to return at some point - stays on a maintenance dose of a chemo drug, and has pretty much returned to a normal existence.
Pretty much a normal existence. But life cannot be exactly as it was.
Nor can this day return to being solely about Mozart, as much as we both adore his music - and trust me, we will through Sirius XM listen to as much of the marathon on Channel 76 as we can.
Anniversaries of momentous occasions and important life events are an appropriate time to look back, to remember, to reflect.
We had had some loss in the past two years - we had to say goodbye to Cielito, one of our rescued cats. But our remaining three cats are still with us, still offering us their love.
My beloved wife is a private person. She was originally more than reluctant to have me writing about her illness. But so many people thanked her for the sharing, for keeping them connected.
We both like to be in charge of our own lives. We found that we not only needed, we welcomed the support of others, starting when she returned from that first week in the hospital and could not be left alone - people from each of our faith communities volunteered to sit with her so I could do things like shop or go to dental appointments.
The community of Daily Kos presented her with a wonderful quilt, filled with wonderful healing and affirming messages.
People donated leave to her - not just from her own workplace in the federal government, but friends from other agencies.
People brought us food.
People supported us with their prayers and their love.
I have lived with Mozart all of my life. As a beginning piano student I quickly got to the famous sonata in C. As a cello player doing string quartets, I performed with my sister and two friends on television in NYC. My sister and I learned the violin sonatas. We played in orchestras that did the symphonies. I have sung masses and the Requiem. We have attended and listened to operas.
On one trip my wife and I took before we were married we went to Salzburg, we visited the Mozart Geburtshaus, the building where he was born. We went to a string quartet at the Mozarteum, the Conservatory to which students from Oberlin go. We saw a wonderful performance of Zauberflote with the Salzburg Marionette Theater.
That first week of cancer included my wife's birthday, spent in a hospital bed, with a nurse smuggling in a small cake and me smuggling in a coffee shake.
That seems almost an eternity ago.
Leaves has returned to work almost full time.
She travels extensively, driving herself to family events in New Jersey, to places in Virginia to do scholarly research.
But she does need much more sleep. Which is to be expected. Our lives have changed.
We do not regret the change. She tells me I have become more sensitive to her, more patient. I tell her to blame the yoga for that. But she's right.
I have to do more of the ordinary things around the house, and almost all of the errands. Which I am delighted to do because it makes her life easier.
We have been together for more than 40 years, married for more than 29. I would suspect we are finally fully learning what all that means.
Or to be fair, I am finally learning what it means not only to love, but to accept love.
Lady Julian had her spiritual life greatly deepened as a result of her illness. We have had our lives similarly deepened. And last March when I had an episode at school that people first thought was a stroke, I became the focus, I had to surrender and to let others take care of me. I was fortunate - merely ocular migraines.
This day will always have double meaning for us. We will remember what we face, be grateful for the wonderful medical care, the support and love and prayers of so many people, and that as a result the barriers that were still between us even after decades together being finally completely lowered.
In Casablanca we hear "We'll always have Paris." For us we will always have Mozart. We will remember the medical anniversary to be sure, we will acknowledge it.
Then we will will luxuriate in the genius of Amadeus. Because no matter what sadness or sorrow we may encounter, for both of us we are elevated by the glory of music.
Thank you all for your continued support, love, and prayers.
Peace.