Well, I guess I lied--so much for April. It is about to become January 18, 2010. For a lot of people, today is a holiday, part of a long weekend. It is MLK Day this year. For us--for me, in particular--today is an awkward anniversary: It is the second anniversary of Andrew's Neuroblastoma diagnosis and the first of my dad's death. In short, it is a watershed day, emotionally charged and quite raw.
Today makes for a strange juxtaposition and jumbling of feelings. Certainly, I feel incredible joy and relief at Andrew's completion of treatment and his current clean and clear status (touch wood on both). At the same time, I have deep anger and resentment and a total lack of understanding over the idea--no, the fact--that he, that ANY child, could be stricken with cancer in the first place. I don't know where to place that. How does that get reconciled? And, finally, I live in a near-constant state of fear of Andrew's relapse and my fear plumbs many depths, not the least of which is what he would have to endure in relapse and how poor his chances become, but also the doubts of whether I, Cynthia and Lucia--our family--could withstand another grueling episode of treatment. Do I, do we, have the strength and the stamina to suffer through this again? This goes right to the core of my abilities as a parent and a father. Clearly, if faced with it, the answer is, yes; but, I pray we never truly have to find out.
My thoughts surrounding my dad are tangled up in all of this, too. Above all, I still feel deep sadness over my dad's death. I miss him terribly. He was a great friend and I shared a lot with him and now that outlet and that connection is missing for me. It is an irreplaceable loss. Curiously, though, I also recognize that I feel a certain amount of relief over my dad's passing, in that he did not suffer with his disease for long. It would be difficult to see him bear the crude brutalities of cancer treatment. Of course, it would be dishonest for me not to also confess that I have considerable anger and resentment over my dad's death in general. He was taken cruelly and abruptly from this life--cheated--and the world lost a great and kind man. It makes no sense. Again, where do I place that? How am I to reconcile those feelings? And last, but by no means least, I worry about my mom and how she is dealing with her loss and I fear what she must be going through....
And so, today is a victory and a celebration. And it is a time for grieving and sadness. And it presents an opportunity to vent and to reflect. We will do our best to swirl those things together in the appropriate amounts and make the most of our day. I don't expect that there will be any answers forthcoming today, but I suppose this is more about the journey and the process than it is about some final destination.
Strange day, indeed. Take good care.
Paul
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4 comments:
I am so very happy to hear of the NED finding. Congratulations. Your family has been in my thoughts and prayers. Here's to a wonderful 2010. (I can relate to losing your father, as Noelle and I lost our fathers far too long ago. I still miss him all the time. The good thing is we still talk to our kids about them a lot. It helps to keep his memory alive.)
Here's wishing you continued success,
Frank and Noelle, Rankin, Ryland and Gianna Repetti
Cynthia, Paul and family,
I am thinking of you, and your family. I am keeping you in my prayers. Paul, it is so hard to lose a parent.
I hope that 2010 is a good year for your family, and that you have health and happiness.
Love,
Julie M. Roman
Dear Paul and Cynthia: I can relate to your feelings about cancer....I lost both of my parents in my twenties to Cancer almost 30 years ago, and I miss them so, so much like it was yesterday...I to always talk to them and keep them alive in our memories and it helps...my love to Andrew and my prayers...Love Mrs. Gutierrez...
We bear deep, emotional scars from the wounds left on our psyches after watching our children go through Cancer treatment, let alone from suffering such terrible losses in the meantime.
Meanwhile, our senses are sharpened, our appreciation of the blessings of sharing each day with the loved ones who are still with us heightened in unexplainable ways.
Perhaps these truths are not to be reconciled, but they are exactly what gives us the balance we need to make it through the days without answers. I don't know. I can't claim to have figured anything out.
Hugs to you all! Continued good health for Andrew, and continued healing for all of you --
Amy
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