Cancer is Love
15 years ago, my wife passed away from Cancer. This blog post is about our lessons learned—it’s one emotional Frankenstein of a story!
My wife died of cancer 15 years ago when my kids were 6 and 4. I’m always surprised when I meet people that don’t know that. It’s probably because it happened long ago, I remarried, and my kids are older now, both in college.
Occasionally, someone compels me to share an essay I wrote called When You Suddenly Become Mom and Dad. It’s the story of a panicked parent, suddenly charged with the sole responsibility of raising two small kids, a job I never imagined having. It’s what I would have told myself 15 years ago.
We ground through it. My kids, I think, are awesome. I remarried, readjusted, and rebooted. Inspired by a new friend at the start of her journey, I decided to re-update and reshare it. My eight surviving takeaways include:
Cancer is love
How to talk to kids about death
What magical thinking is and how to avoid it
How to adapt to how kids think about death
Adopt a love mantra
Holidays are gonna suck until they don’t
Expect to reboot your social circle
Put the oxygen mask on yourself first
I always hesitate before sharing this one; I know firsthand how you become an advice magnet when something terrible happens. But I share it anyway. It’s an emotional Frankenstein of an essay, written during random flashes of insight over 15 years. I’ve removed sections, added new ones, and rewritten it all, hundreds of times.
But one truth-bomb remains. Our chemotherapy nurse dropped it on me at Dana Farber while my wife was sleeping, frail, and dying. I asked her how she stayed positive amidst such sadness. She told me, "cancer is love." Her point was that cancer, and perhaps all traumatic experience, also reveals the best of us. It took me a while to see it, but you keep seeing it every day once you do.
When my mom shares "advice" with me, she always writes "Keep or Toss" on top and leaves it at that. So, I hope this article doesn't apply to you, but if it does, keep, toss, or share our story.
