Cindy McCain - Stronger: Courage, Hope, and Humor in My Life with John McCain

My husband, John McCain, never viewed himself as larger than lifebut he was. He believed in fighting for the good and never quitting, and he had more tenacity and resolve than anybody I ever met. Knowing his iron will, I shouldnt have been surprised when he announced one day in 2017 that he planned to attend a conference on international security in Lake Como, Italy.

John had been diagnosed with brain cancer just a few weeks earlier. A team of doctors had whisked him off for emergency surgery and removed a tumor the size of an egg. They told him that he couldnt go to the conference. Flying was too dangerous. The change in air pressure could essentially cause his brain to explode.

But this was John McCain. He was going.

Our grown-up children begged me to convince him to stay home, but I knew I couldnt change his mind. Over more than three decades of marriage, I had learned that John would do what he thought was right and important no matter what anyone said. I also couldnt let him go alone. So a few weeks later, I got on the private plane with him, toting various medicines and emergency numbers in my carry-on bag. I stared at him intently as we took off.

What are you looking at? he asked.

Ive never seen a brain explode, I said. Im wondering how much of a mess it will be.

Dont worry. I packed the dustbuster, John said, cracking the wry smile I knew so well.

People think that the main lessons I took from John were about honor, courage, and integrity. I did learn all that. But I also loved him for his humor, for the example he set on how to laugh even when the world doesnt seem to be going your way. He believed in staying optimistic, taking action, and never wasting time on anger. When he lost his temperwhich did happenhe was quick to apologize, make amends, and move on. Like John, I can accept a lot and stay stoic when necessary. But I know there comes a time to stand up for yourself, too.

John survived the trip, head and brain intact. He made a big impact at Lake Como, so Im glad he went. With his military background and deep understanding of world events, he had the respect of world leaders who listened to his views. He knew that sharing his perspective was particularly important, now that a new administration had taken over in America that displayed only the most nave views of international policy. He spoke to the gathered leaders about the importance of allies, about his hope that America, despite the tone its new president had set, would stay committed in the world, rise to the challenge, and remain a beacon for the basic values of equality on which the country was built.

Johns purposeful integrity was needed more than ever, but within a few months of that conference, his cancer progressed so much that his body was weakened and his brilliant, active career was forced to wind down. We retreated to our ranch in northern Arizona, which had always been our hideaway for peace and comfort, tucked amidst twenty acres of woods and creeks. John loved watching the hawks that soared overhead. He admired their beauty and majesty, and, pointing them out to visitors, he would describe them as his special companions. We wanted to fill his last months with the gentle sounds of birds and animals and rustling leaves.

I kept visitors to a minimumjust enough so that he could see people and still feel engaged but not be exploited. A lot of press wanted to know what was going on, and I heard that one tabloid show had offered $250,000 for a photo of him. Fake hikers with telephoto lenses made their way into our neighbors woods. Almost every day, I heard the buzzing of camera drones flying overhead.

During his thirty-one years in the Senate, John was widely known and admired, and I had gotten used to our very public life. I had the advantage of great adventures with himtrips to foreign countries, dinners at the White House, two runs for president, and the chance to make a difference in the world. But I had also suffered the downside of a public life, including personal assaults and vicious lies about my children. I tried to keep my dignity and not lower myself to the level of the attackers. Above all else, I saw my job as the protector of my family, and that included John. In his final days, the line between public and private wasnt hard for me to draw. I told the caretaker that this was private property. If he saw drones, he could shoot them down.

We didnt have to resort to that, and by August we knew the end was near. Johns closest friends and longtime advisers came to be with us, and most of the McCain children arrived except our son Jack, who was serving in the U.S. Navy, stationed in Afghanistan. On a summers afternoon, we all had lunch and listened to the music from Johns favorite Frank Sinatra playlist. Our doctor, who was also a neighbor and friend, came into the kitchen where I was clearing up lunch dishes and said to me, Look, were close.

I had been preparing for this moment for fourteen monthsbut you are never really prepared to lose the person you love. I ran to Johns bedroom and, in a burst of panicked energy, I suddenly knew where John would want to spend his final moments. I turned his hospital bed around and pushed it out onto the deck. As I did, the music from Johns playlist brought up the Frank Sinatra song My Way and the lyrics washed over us:

Ive lived a life thats full

Ive traveled each and every highway

But more, much more than this,

I did it my way

Out on the grounds in front of us, one of the hawks flew across the house, then flew back and settled on a branch not far from the bedroom. I like to think that he and John exchanged a glance. Then with the sun shining, the hawk looking on, and I did it my way filling the air, John drew his final breath.

I knew that people loved John McCain, the man who did everything his own way. But I wasnt prepared for the outpouring of respect and emotion that we witnessed over the next few days. My husband spent a lifetime giving everything he had in the name of honor and country, and he had touched many people with his example of decency and values. His father and grandfather were military heroes, and he lived by the military code of conduct that he believed in and put above his own personal welfare. He had spent more than five years as a POW in Vietnam, being beaten and tortured, and when he was given the chance of an early release, he said no. It wasnt how things were done.

On that first late afternoon, I could barely make it to my closet to put on my one black dress, so I was grateful for Johns terrific and long-serving staff who arranged for a hearse and a motorcade of SUVs to begin my husbands final journey. As we headed up the long dirt road, I choked back more tears, knowing it was the last time John would be on his beloved land. When we got to the paved road, I was stunned to see that many people from the neighboring towns had come out and were standing at attention, hats off and saluting. I will never know how they heard the news. As we drove along Interstate 17, every overpass was filled with fire trucks sounding their horns and thousands of people holding American flags. Helicopters flew overhead and a sheriffs department joined us as an escort. Throngs of people greeted our arrival in Phoenix.