Lemons to Lemonade is a story of loss and more. It is also a love story and a story of renewal. Gerri Mungin grew up in the middle of 1960's New York City. There she found love, married her childhood sweetheart, Ted, and went on to live her version of the American dream. Gerri and Ted moved from New York to the San Francisco Bay Area, the first in their families to leave the nest. On the West Coast they laugh, cry, love, argue, kiss and make up, and raise two children. They retire to the beautiful community of Huntersville, North Carolina where they live an idyllic life-until death comes knocking. A warm, honest, sad, deeply moving as well as hopeful and thought provoking story, follow Gerri as she deals with the challenges that will face us all one day. From Lemons to Lemonade My Journey from Loss to Renewal By Gerri Mungin Balboa Press Copyright © 2016 Gerri Mungin All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-5043-5044-0 Contents Preface, xi, Acknowledgments, xiii, Chapter 1 Journey, 1, Chapter 2 What Does Legacy Mean?, 3, Chapter 3 Remembering Ted: Early Days, 7, Chapter 4 Time Stood Still, 11, Chapter 5 The News, 16, Chapter 6 Good-Bye, My Love, 22, Chapter 7 Celebrating a Life, 25, Chapter 8 The Hospital, 28, Chapter 9 My Son, Lateef, 30, Chapter 10 Good-Bye, Lateef, 35, Chapter 11 Two Deaths — The Aftermath, 38, Chapter 12 What Is Grief?, 41, Chapter 13 365 Days of Happy, 49, Chapter 14 Out and About in New York City, 54, Chapter 15 Guidance, 57, Chapter 16 Taking Care of Myself, 63, Chapter 17 Are You Ready for This?, 67, Chapter 18 Milestones, 71, Chapter 19 October, 73, Chapter 20 November, 77, Chapter 21 December, 80, Chapter 22 January, 86, Chapter 23 February, 90, Chapter 24 Now What?, 94, Appendix A Son's Tribute to His Dad, 99, CHAPTER 1 Journey A strong woman believes that she is strong enough to face her journey, but a woman of strength has faith that it is in this journey that she will become strong. — Luke Easter It was a warm, sunny New York City day in April 2014.I stepped onto Eighty-Eighth Street, and my senses were immediately assaulted with sounds, smells, sights, and people — people everywhere. As I walked to the corner, a screaming ambulance came barreling down York Avenue, the sound making me plug my ears with my index fingers. I looked around. Everyone else was just walking. Did they not hear the same horrible noise I was hearing? A little boy riding a scooter ran right over my foot — his parent, a half block away from him, was paying no attention. Dogs eliminating right in the middle of the sidewalk made it necessary for folks to navigate around them. Most owners picked up the big stuff, but what about the residue and smells left on the streets where mere mortals had to walk? And what about the "Curb your dog" rule that used to exist in this city? As I was crossing from York Avenue on my way to First Avenue, I had to hop, skip, and jump out of the way of the Eighty-Sixth Street crosstown accordion bus as it navigated the turn from York to Eighty-Sixth Street. Half of its body was on York Avenue, and the rest was already making the turn onto Eighty-Sixth Street. As I passed First Avenue, I heard a young man coming up behind me. He was talking on his cell phone. "Hey, dude. It's been a long time. How are you? I thought I'd stop by after work. Maybe we could smoke some weed." I quickened my steps to get out of his air space, and coming toward me was a woman screaming into her cell phone, "What the f — k do you mean you can't make it?" Was I stuck in an alternate universe? As I continued to walk west, I could see the Lexington Avenue train station ahead — not far now, only another block to go. As I got closer, I saw what looked like a bubbling cauldron of humanity washing up out of the subway station. Everyone was coming up, and I needed to go down. This was way too much for me. What in the world was I doing here in the middle of New York City? Where was my beautifully green, bucolic North Carolina life? I bypassed the subway entrance and kept walking. Maybe I would just do something else today — something not involving the subway. As I walked west toward Central Park, I felt my cell phone vibrate in my purse. I pulled it out. Caller ID said it was my longtime friend Alice. I hit "Accept" and heard her melodic voice. "Hi, Deanie. I was thinking about you and thought I'd call to see how you're doing." How was I doing? Good question. CHAPTER 2 What Does Legacy Mean? I would want my legacy to be that I was a great father, son, and friend. — Dante Hall On January 24,2014, my husband, Ted, died. We were married for forty years and had grown up in the same neighborhood. He was my best friend. Ted waged a valiant battle against duodenal cancer. From diagnosis to death was a short ten months. On February 28,2014, my son, Lateef, died of complications arising from grand mal seizures. He was forty-one years old and left a wife and two da