My wife, my constant, my axis...she was the foundation of Whitney's faith and fight. Ramona demonstrated the driving force that was the core of Whit's counter attack against a disease that tried to rob her of everything.  That driving force is a mother's love...not just an emotion, but a tangible , measurable, observable, umbilical that is as powerful and as gentle as gravity.   As they say, "man, I'm glad I'm a man", but I envy that connection and what a wonder it must be to have life woven from a mother's own flesh and blood.  I believe the only man that could ever understand that bond would be Jesus Christ.  Consider facebook...a perfect example.  Overwhelmingly, it is the proud mothers who fill the pages with pictures and videos and praises for their children and grandchildren.  It was a mother's love that gave Whitney the will to fight in spite of the pain and discouragement of the darkest days.  It was that same force that kept Ramona on her feet through months of emotional, physical, and spiritual "trauma"...I don't think that is too exaggerated a word to use. I could fill pages with stories of her love and commitment. 
When Whitney was at her lowest, when her pain was the worst, when her arms ached most to hold her children, when Ramona's despair was at its greatest,  I asked myself the hardest question.  If I could have caught a glimpse of our future years ago  when I left a Christmas play practice with the nervous intentions of calling the "leading lady" and asking her out for a date, would I still have asked?    You can't tell this from where you are but I am pausing for about 5 minutes to consider............the answer is always "yes'",  and always will be. 






This was a facebook post I shared a few days ago that most of you have already read.

"Ramona is finally back on her feet. Just two days after the funeral, her back went out so badly she was bedridden for 5 days. She's still not 100%. I actually thought she had slipped a disc. I figured my Golden GIrls  needed a rest and I could handle this. So, I took the week off to "fill her shoes". Don't babies know they should lie motionless when we are changing a poopy diaper? There should be some rules of engagement here. Luke loves to play in the commode. If I could just get him to sit on it. He is a human octopus. Is it really necessary to fold all those towels? So, Taylor's school lunch sandwich has to be cut in what shape? And trim the edges off? Hey, my mama made me eat the edges! Must I sweep before I mop? Does not the dirt get caught up in the mop anyway? Do I have to make Taylor brush her teeth? I mean, she's gonna get new ones. Did I mention Luke is a human octopus? And why can't he wear pajamas all day? Paper plates rock! Had Ramona Cannon Hardee's friends not come to my rescue by day five, I may have stowed away on the next banana boat out of Charleston harbor. But, seriously, she felt it was so unfair to have to lay up for days. But I asked her, what else could have possibly made you get the rest your body so desperately needed after a year of holding our family together? God works in mysterious ways. And, hey fellas, appreciate your ladies."