1 year later…

So it will be one year tomorrow that I heard the dreaded word “cholangiocarcinoma” for the first time, and what a year it has been. I will never forget that day, as long as I live, or the emotions that ran through my mind and body. I remember those first few weeks, me with a 4 month old, being so upset that Dad wasn’t going to be around to watch my little girl grow up. Feeling cheated. Feeling angry. Feeling helpless. I didn’t think I’d ever stop crying. It was awful. It’s still awful, but it’s also different.

My Dad has the most incredible attitude – from day 1 he has told us that if this is God’s will, then we are not to question it – “it is what it is”. He accepted his fate so gracefully, and still does. He even got a card from his mail carrier at Christmas that said something about how he doesn’t just touch the lives of his family, but everyone he comes into contact with, and thanking him for giving her a little glipse into his life. It’s true – people go to cheer him up, and leave feeling uplifted. He’s amazing, he’s my hero. We thought he had a few months, and rather then crying that the end could be around the corner, we are celebrating making it to a year.

In the last week, my husband’s best friend and 2 very close friends of mine (sisters, one of which was supposed to get married on Saturday) lost their fathers – both to cancer, and both just a few VERY short months after diagnosis. It breaks my heart to see them in such pain, and hear them talk about how it wasn’t enough time, and say they didn’t get to say all they needed to say. I actually had a moment of guilt that Dad is still with us a year later, after thinking he only had a few months while others around him are dying so quickly. It’s a weird emotion, and it didn’t make much sense to me, but it was definitely there. At this point, I know that if Dad were to suddenly pass, he has heard everyhing he needed to hear from us, and I would know he left the world at peace with how he left it…. nothing left unsaid, and nothing left undone.

Now, aside from being sad that Dad won’t be there to watch his grandchilden grow up, I have an incredibly deep sense of gratitude for the amazing moments we’ve had over the last year. He got to sit in the sun through the summer (he thought he’d never get to do that again when diagnosed). He got to go on our first ever family trip to Newfoundland where he grew up and be with his family there. He got to be here for Katelyn’s first birthday. He got to meet his first grandson Alex (who may have come into the world early, but also came EXACTLY when he was meant to). He got to share another Christmas with his family, and ring in another New Year. Now, he gets to celebrate his one year “anniversary” and, God willing, will be here to celebrate Family Day on Feburary 21st (at which time we will go out to see his memorial bench together), and his 60th birthday on February 24th…. a milestone none of us thought would be possible.

I know this cancer is an ugly, horrible monster that takes people way too young and way too quickly, but my wish for all of us here is that in fighting alongside the ones we love, we can find some good in even the most horrible of circumstances. We can find peace, we can find hope, we can find a reason to celebrate even the smallest and seemingly dull or unimportant moments in life because the fact is, every moment we are here is a reason to be glad, and to be thankful. My Daddy taught me that.

I think of you all, always. You are in my thoughts, and you are in my prayers.