Some called it an everyman's column ... a tale any dad or husband could relate to. Some said it reminded them of similar events in their lives. Some said it sometimes made them laugh out loud. Others called it a waste of ink and paper. ( I chose not to listen to them.)

One of my favorite gags through the years was my reference to my "better half" as "the wife," a reference that incensed some readers with the inference that I considered my wife to be some sort of object.

I never did. I have always considered my wife to be an independent thinker, a beautiful woman both inside and out. I've always had the greatest respect and admiration for her, and I have loved her with all my heart since meeting her 33 years ago.

The wife? I just called her that in a playful way. Some readers hated it—she thought it was funny. Some readers resented it—she didn't think it was a big deal. Her sense of humor always allowed her to enjoy it in the way it was intended, and her tremendous self-confidence helped her realize it was nothing more than a little fun.

But I will never again refer to my wife in that way, and not just because I wasn't sure how readers would respond when I took this new job last March.

As I write this, I'm sitting in a darkened hospital room at the foot of my wife's bed. She is fighting a battle with colon cancer—a battle the doctors now say that she cannot win.

I'm going to lose my wife, and best friend, to this terrible disease, and I am heartbroken. I will lose a part of me, and I will have a hole in my heart for the rest of my life.

So I'm not feeling very light-hearted and humorous today, and for that reason this column will take on a different tack. So that my wife will not die in vain, we want to share two lessons that we have learned as we've lived through this devastating ordeal.

The first, and most important, is the value of early detection. We hear about it, we agree that it's so important, but we ignore the procedure because it seems invasive and uncomfortable. She did, and it was a fatal mistake that I will regret for the rest of my days. But as I write this, if one person heeds the warning and discovers a problem early, my wife would be so pleased.

The second lesson we learned is the importance of being there for others who are experiencing crisis in their lives.

We've been the recipients of such a warm and thoughtful outpouring of support from family, friends and acquaintances that we've been touched beyond words.

Randee and I shared a certain guilt for not being there for others in the past—others who have gone through similar crises. But we decided early on in her illness that we would change our ways and reach out. I now vow in her name to do that in the years ahead.

The cards, the flowers, the phone calls, the balloons, the stuffed animals, the meals, the help and guidance ... it all has meant so much to our family.

I don't know how we can ever repay the kindness shown to us. The only way we can think of is to share her story and to be there for others in the future.

We? That's right ... me, and my wife, Randee. I just wish we could do it together.