It was Sunday morning, I called David to wish him a sensational Sunday and to stir up his hope and orneriness as we did for each other nearly daily since 1988.

It was then I received the dreadful news. His girlfriend, Jan, was crying when she answered his phone. "I thought someone had called you," she said through the sobs, "David died this morning."

My mind swirled as I tried to think of something to say, something that might comfort her. I suddenly felt sick at the pit of my stomach. My world was coming apart.

Normally in a situation like this the first person I would call for guidance would be David but David was dead. How surreal.

I knew in the logical side of my brain that he was gravely ill and losing his battle with cancer but deep down where my heart and spirit reside I had been filled with hope that a miracle would arrive and he would rebound.

The next minutes, hours, and days are blurred. I made calls and sent e-mails to make sure my responsibilities for the week were covered. I was scheduled to participate in a sales blitz in Chicago with our CVB (Convention & Visitors Bureau). I had follow-up work to do, preparation for travel agents visiting our resorts the following week, as well as other assorted "have tos" that needed attention. Everyone I spoke to was caring and helpful.

Even now days later, my focus is scattered trying to make sure I don't neglect my responsibilities while being filled with the desire to find a quiet place on the beach with my memories of David and let the world just go on by for awhile.

I have never been one who has handled good-bye easily or with grace and poise.

When I have the pleasure of visiting my sons, their families, my sisters, brother and friends I hug and hold on tight then leave quickly anxious to return for another visit soon.

My grandchildren and I share green M&Ms when I leave after a visit. My dad told me that it is hard to cry and feel sad when you eat them. The thought that we are each filling our mouths with these tasty morsels makes us laugh and smile. My dad was right, it helps.

Unfortunately, no amount of green M&Ms can ease the pain of saying good-bye to someone who is your history, who has shared so much of their life with you. Known to many when we worked together at Travel Agents International as the dynamic duo, our lives were entwined.

We shared good times and bad. Together the good times became fantastic and the bad times better. Our adventures would fill volumes.

The rituals of a wake and funeral are traditions to help family and friends celebrate and pay tribute to the person who has died.

In the past when David and I would attend a viewing we would only stay moments electing instead to leave quickly after paying our respects to the family and friends and go to the movies, always a happy movie. Then we would spend the rest of the day or evening reveling in stories about the person who died, celebrating their life in "remember when" stories.

It was all I could do not to run out of David's wake. My heart went out to David's family and loved ones. His daughter, Debbie, made her dad proud. She was a wonderful hostess greeting and thanking everyone who came.,

I on the other hand, no doubt ticked David off as he looked down from heaven. I had promised him I wouldn't cry and truly I tried but my eyes kept filling to overflowing as I wept.

It was a selfish cry. I believe David is now at peace and no longer suffering. I know David got a miracle, not the miracle I wished, but a miracle non the less. He died as he wished at home peacefully and not alone. It just was a different miracle than the one I prayed for and that is okay. I'm only a human being and know the reason things happen are often out of my realm of comprehension.

My tears were for my sense of loss, selfish tears...missing him and wanting him to be alive and healthy full of energy and orneriness, making me smile and laugh, challenging me to be the best version of myself. My mind was bombarded with a thousand memories of the experiences we shared colliding with the thoughts of the unfulfilled plans for the adventures we'd made.

My parents have each died and I miss them both each day.

I have never had a relationship with anyone like the one I shared with David. It was born out of a professional work partnership and evolved into something extraordinary. I always said I was "Hallalized" and I am blessed that I was.

At the Mercy Dinner following the funeral, one of the ladies that spoke said that being able to experience the sense of community you get when you are drawn into the Lebanese community is a wonderful gift. She was right; and to have had the opportunity to share 16 years of my life with David has enriched the tapestry of my life with bright and happy colors.

I will smile with memories of David and our adventures each day for the rest of my life. He may no longer be in Cleveland, Ohio but he lives now and forever in my heart.

To all who have been so kind and caring thank you, most sincerely.