You know that feeling when you would meet somebody in class for the first time and suddenly you start seeing them everywhere?
Or when you buy some shoes and the next day you notice like 10 more people who have the same pair?
Or when you get a new car and randomly see the same make and model at every single stop light?
Well, losing someone to cancer is kind of like that.
You more than likely know someone who has been effected by cancer, but you don’t really recognize or understand it until it happens to you.
Since my mom’s passing one year ago, I’ve had conversations with dozens of people who have also lost someone to cancer. It’s not a group that you want to be a part of, nor that you want to add any new members, but it’s one that you’re happy exists. Because while any and all sympathy is appreciated, it’s tough to truly resonate with someone who hasn’t experienced loss themselves.
I’m thankful for the friends that have helped me through this year, and I empathize with those who are experiencing something similar. I’m thankful for my wife, who has been patient and understanding with me. And I’m thankful for my dad, because despite everything that he’s gone through, he remains strong.
A lot of times, it still frustrates me to think about what happened. It all was so sudden that I didn’t really have time to process or “deal with” it. To be honest, I probably still haven’t.
While I don’t know if there’s any “right” way to handle it, I do know that my mom would be proud of me. Much of her still lives on through the way that I treat people, the way that I love my kids, and the way that I go after what I want.
She was always my “number one fan”, and I know that she still is.