I just finished reading the words of Mark Raymond Clements -- and the words of his wife, Marianne, written when Mark was too ill to comment. I am overcome and overwhelmed with emotion because each string of sentences filling the pages of the Clements family homepage has touched me, inspired me, and saddened me all at the same time.

Clements was diagnosed in October 2005 with cholangiocarcinoma, a rare cancer of the bile duct normally found in people in their 70s.

"There is no known cure," writes Clements. "It does not respond well to chemotherapy. It is fast moving."

And fast moving it was. Surgery -- rarely a good option for this cancer -- was attempted but without success.

"After they opened him up, they discovered that the cancer had just spread too far," Marianne writes. "They closed him back up."

Chemotherapy came next and while there were some hopeful moments -- "overall distribution of the disease has decreased" -- the overwhelming course of Clement's disease continued on a fast track. And by June 2006, Clements realized, "the cruel reality of CANCER hits like a brick wall," when a CT scan revealed the presence of as many as 20 new tumors in his liver.

The Clements family never abandoned hope and were steadfast in their faith as cancer continued to dominate their lives. In October -- one year after diagnosis -- when Marianne believed doctors were sending a let's make you as comfortable as we can message, the family began pursuing alternative methods. But by December, when it had become clear treatment of any kind would no longer help, Mark Clements was welcomed by the loving arms of hospice -- where he remained until he passed away on January, 19, 2007. He was 40 years old.

On the very day of her husband's death, Marianne writes, "I know I am not alone in feeling complete anguish at this time. I know it will lessen over time. I know I will not understand 'why' until I'm with him again, but what I do know is that Mark loved me. He loved his children. He loved his family and friends. He will be waiting for me with our loving Father in Heaven. And we will be together again. Our Father in Heaven is aware of our pain and will comfort us still as he has through this past year."

And these are just some of the words that have has touched me, inspired me, and saddened me all at the same time.

Lynne began her blog on August 6 -- one week ago and two months after she endured surgery to clear a clogged bile duct and received the grim and frightening diagnosis of gallbladder cancer. Her cancer is stage IV -- not an uncommon staging for a hard-to-detect disease that many will only survive for two to six months. So Lynne is scared but still strong and hopeful and full of faith. Her goal is to live -- not die -- with cancer, even though her days may be numbered. So Lynne blogs her thoughts and fears and all the bits and pieces of information she gathers about a disease that is rare and resources that are scare. It helps her. And it will surely help others. And here is a glimpse into what she shared in her first post.

If you had only six months or a year to live, would you want to know? What would you do with the information? Would it make a difference in how you lived your life? These are questions I have been asking for the past two months. In asking them, I have also noticed how little guidance there is for this process. Who have I known personally who was able to anticipate their death? I can think of only two individuals, and I never asked them whether or not they were living differently in their awareness of their mortality.

So, those are the themes in this blog. I look forward to a dialog with those I know, and those I don't about this strange, life changing journey.

To Lynne -- and to all others who are faced with the disease -- may you find peace and comfort and strength in every step you take, every direction you follow, every path that becomes your road to recovery.