One of the most difficult things I’ve had to do in my life is telling my family that I have cancer. Calling my Mom and Dad. Talking with my kids.
I had an overwhelming urge to protect everyone from my diagnosis. Because it does affect everyone. Cancer has a way of sending ripples of anxiety, sadness, fear, and anger through the world of people you love.
Telling my kids, especially, was so hard. Not knowing how they would react or how much they would understand (10+12). And somehow feeling like I’ve failed as a parent because I got cancer. Which, rationally, makes ZERO sense. But it doesn’t stop your brain from thinking it.
And then, there is love.
There are moments of pure, unfiltered, loving joy. It’s no secret, but in the lowest of lows is when clarity really sets in. The time we spend with the people we love is what it’s all about (yeah, cheesy. but so true). I find myself tearing up all the time. Not because I’m sad, but because I’m floored by the love surrounding me. My family loves me. My friends love me. People have come out from everyone direction of my life to tell me or show me how much they care. And I believe them. Which is new for me.
I have a desire to not just tell people I love them, but WHY I love them. I talk more regularly with my family. I savor time with my kids like a big bowl of mac-n-cheese. It’s like I’m wearing some new-fangled HD glasses. And I laugh… a lot.
Mom, Dad, Brothers, Family, Mentors, Colleagues, my Partner (thank the gods for you), and my Former Wife (who sat right next to me when we talked to the kids because we are a damn team!) — thank you ALL for doing all the little (and big) things you’ve done in the last month. I feel loved.
So guess what, Cancer? Thank you. I mean, you still suck. But thank you for the perspective.
