The C Word

Cancer.

It is the “C” word that has stolen so much from our family.

It has stolen my aunt – my Godmother who I had so much in common with. My mom’s little sister whose home I spent so many holidays, building pillow forts out of the couch cushions, playing hide and seek with my cousins, and later sneaking spoonfulls of Bourbon spiked whipped cream on Thanksgiving. Who would set out my own little bowl of black olives because I loved them so much. A trait that Madeline shares.

It has stolen Corey’s aunt. My first memory of her is from almost ten years ago. She invited us over for pizza on my first trip to New Jersey to meet Corey’s family. When I arrived, at least ten family members were waiting to meet me. What a surprise – and quite overwhelming. But she made me feel so welcome.

It has stolen countless pets along the way. I still remember sitting on my mom’s bed when I was six years old as she tried to explain to me that my cat, Patches, had breast cancer.

My big sister from my sorority. As an only child, I thought of her as my real big sister. She was one of the kindest and most thoughtful people I have ever met – the rare kind of person who would do anything for anyone no matter how busy she was or what was going on in her own life. Truly a light – if you were ever having a bad day just stop by and see Karrah because her energy and joy would completely change your perspective.

It has stolen Corey’s dad. He was the best. Everything you could ask for in a father-in-law. He was hilarious and just didn’t take life too seriously. He was smart and a hard worker. Someone who put family first – prioritizing God and his family above all else. I feel like they just don’t make men like that anymore. Except my husband – he is like that because his dad made him that way.

I have so many memories of him ingrained in my mind. I often think of one in particular when I look at my children – who he never got to meet. It was the last time we visited them in Naples and it was a gorgeous day. We had the dogs out and about and were on a walk at a greenway. A little girl ran up to the dogs and started talking to us about them. She was with her own grandparents. My father in law had been so ready for us to give him some grandchildren for about a year by then and he wasn’t quiet about it! He gave the little girl a dollar for her piggy bank when she was finished chatting and I remember thinking what a fun grandfather he would be and how he would surely indulge our kids in all kinds of fun and totally unnecessary toys and treats.

A year later I was pregnant but he was gone.

There are moments now when I think about that that just stop me in my tracks with that tight knot that feels just like someone punched you right in your chest. It takes your breath away.

And now, here we are again.

Just like I will forever remember standing in my driveway with a bag of my favorite takeout in one hand and my cell phone in the other on the first day of spring break when Corey told me that his dad had just been diagnosed with cancer, there is now another moment that will forever be imprinted in my mind and on my heart.

The moment that he called and told me his mom had cancer.

When he told me, my response was “she does not.” So matter-of-factly because quite honestly the idea of her having cancer after her husband had cancer twice, her best friend had cancer, her sister had cancer, and her dog had cancer just seemed absolutely ludicrous.

I followed that with “Did a doctor tell you that?”

And unfortunately yes the doctor did.

A little later once I had finished all the logistical things you do in these type crises, I made a midnight phone call to my own mother and just sobbed.

I was angry and heart broken at the same time and just felt robbed. Robbed of so many moments. Moments my husband was supposed to have with her. With both his parents.

Robbed of moments my children were supposed to have with their Nonnie. Of the Wednesday afternoon play dates that were so important to Madeline. Of her tea party partner and the grandmother who would play absolutely anything she dreamed up.

Of moments that Connor will never, ever have because he is so little. He will remember nothing – only memories he crafts from the stories we share with him.

There is some gratitude, too. Of all the moments my kids did have because they did not get that with my father-in-law. Gratitude that Madeline is old enough to remember and that she was able to really enjoy time with her Nonnie because she lived so close to us. Gratitude that I was blessed with a wonderful mother in law and of all the lessons she has taught me about marriage, gardening, choosing paint colors, and home decor. Little things that may not seem all that important but that were shared interests we enjoyed chatting and brainstorming about for years and years.

But, quite honestly, there is more sadness and anger and heartbreak. This “C” word – this disease – CANCER – it is a thief. My heart is so heavy with all it has stolen from us. There really are no words to describe a heart break this great. The magnitude of it takes my breath away multiple times a day. Yet, there are two sweet, precious children who are also part of our family. I find myself in such awe of Madeline. She is heartbroken and experiences a fresh heartbreak each time she realizes new ways her life is forever changed – tea parties she will no longer have, sleepovers she won’t get to go on, and hugs she will never receive again. Yet, she still wakes up every morning excited for the day ahead and full of such joy. Children really are amazing and their resiliency is so incredible.

So, in the face of the evil that is cancer, I choose to look at life the way my child does and I choose joy for myself, too.

“Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy, and keep choosing it every day.” – Henri Nouwen