Reflections

This week was a blessing. I've never had so many people in my house, so many messes, so many toddlers puking. I didn't mind a moment of the chaos. As a matter of fact, I would stretch it out if given the choice.

Call it denial if you want, but my brother and I were talking last night about how, mercifully, we have been able to force ourselves to temporarily forget-or ignore- cancer so we could get through the holidays without losing our minds. One of the good things that is coming out of this change is that my brother and I have talked more than we ever have in our lives. I have been awed at how similar our thoughts and feelings are. I don't know if it's just the natural progression of emotions or if it's a blood connection, or both.

Last night we both admitted that we haven't talked to most of the people we know since Dad was diagnosed. He said it was because he just doesn't feel like rehashing the terrible story. I said it's for a few reasons. I know that, in all liklihoood, whatever I say will make them uncomfortable and whatever they say will not make me feel any better. I'm also afraid that, because I can't find happiness lately, they will talk to me once and then find it too depressing to be around me. Then I figure that even if they don't mind being around me, they'll eventually get tired of hearing about it.

I know this will surprise those of you who know me, but I'm not usually a quiet person. Over the last week I've been thinking a lot about how I feel so lost and disconnected. I've been angry a few times about things people have said that are shallow. I've been trying to figure out who I am now- how this will change me. I couldn't really put my thoughts into words if I tried, but it is nice to have the opportunity to try. So I started wondering why I've been so quiet and why some of my friends have been so quiet. I was reflecting on how I used to respond when people I knew were faced with something like I am now. Then I got it- they're afraid they'll catch it.

I know they're not afraid they'll catch cancer. I think they're afraid they'll catch something else- sadness, fear, unanswered questions. Most of them probably don't even realize they're afraid. I know this because I did it. I used to change the cannel when commercials came on for St. Jude's or Cancer Treatment Centers of America. I used to pray to God to keep my family healthy and then force myself not to think about anyone I know who was unhealthy so I wouldn't become fearful. I used to buy sympathy cards and not even send them because I didn't know what to write. If someone I knew was dealing with an illness, I would ask about them through a friend before I would call them myself. I would give them a, "how are you doing?" and then try not to think about how they answered so that I wouldn't get too sad. Most of all, I remember feeling sad for my friends who have lost their fathers, but not ever really thinking about what it would be like to lose mine.

Over the last year or so, I've tried to face those fears a little more. I would send some money to St. Jude's without looking at the pictures of the children. I would go visit my friend with cancer and ask her to tell me about chemo and radiation. I tried to be more sensitive when people I knew lost family members. I don't know why I did these things, but I can't help but wonder now if there was a reason for it.

So you see, it's not that I can blame anyone. Sometimes I don't even want to hear my own thoughts. It does make me sad, though, that I'm so sad. I'm not generally a sad person, and I'm so afraid that I'm going to be sad forever now. I know that a part of me is eternally changed, and I know the change is not done yet. I have also learned that change- especially the kind that is forced upon you- is probably the most scary and painful thing we can experience.

The positive things is that I am already stronger because I have no choice. It's get stronger or die. I would rather have made the choice to face some of my fears on my own, but God made the choice for me. I am already learning to think only about today and let tomorrow take care of itself. Mostly because tomorrow is too scary to think about- and because I realized that all of those years of worrying and attempting to control the future were a waste of energy. And finally, I don't have to worry about catching anyone else's sadness, fear or unanswered questions.

Dear Daddy,
I know it was hard for you to leave today. It's so scary for all of us to face our lives again- to learn how to deal with the "new normal." None of us know how to get back to our lives because it's a new life entirely- one that we didn't plan or work for. What I cling to, though, is that we have each other. We appreciate every second that we spend together. We are stronger, and we love each other more. The worst Christmas ever was also the best Christmas ever. I think we'll probably have a lot of those days. Thank you for being so strong so that the rest of us can learn from you. I love you.