In tragedy people tend to lose their faith, their religion, and everything that once defined their happiness. It wasn’t like that for me.
My parents divorced when I was young. Shortly thereafter my mom started dating Don. I wasn’t allowed to meet Don until they had been dating for a substantial amount of time. His rules.
He was scared he would get attached. It happened anyway.
I was 18 when Don was diagnosed. I remember finding out, but didn’t think much of it. Even though it was cancer, I never once thought the disease could be life threatening.
Don went through some chemotherapy, some radiation, and finally had surgery to remove the cancer. After surgery it was determined he was cancer-free; but a few months later the cancer returned. We found out it was never fully removed the first time.
But the thing is, I still wasn’t worried. I thought, “OK, let’s do round two; we will make sure it is all gone and carry on.” And that’s exactly what happened. For the next three years, we lived happily.
Until one day, when Don called me at work.
“It’s back,” he said.
I was broken. I knew this time was different. I knew this was when he was going to have to fight for his life. And did that man ever fight. He put up the kind of fight I never knew was possible.
Don once told me the only reason he continued to battle the illness was because he couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to break my mom’s heart. He couldn’t stomach the fact that he would be the one to cause her such great pain. (Those two had a love anyone would be envious of. It was because of his love for my mother that I, a pessimist who had previously dismissed love on just about any level, turned into an optimist who couldn’t wait to find what they had.)
We lost Don in May 2012. My life was turned upside-down.
Before Don got sick the last time, I thought I knew where I was headed, and what was important. I went to church — but wasn’t really invested. I prayed — but only when in despair, never to give thanks. I worked hard and had a great upcoming career. I was going to school and continuing my education. I was searching for love and marriage.
I thought I was happy. That is, until Don passed away. It was through his death that I was awoken from my delusional state of happiness.
With his passing, I came to realize I was only doing those things so that I would be the best I could be while he was there. I was trying to accomplish as much as I could with the little time he had left. I was trying to be the perfect Christian, daughter, and friend, all while he could still be there to witness it. I was trying to be someone I thought he would be proud of.
Though I don’t fully understand why this happened to Don and our family, his death made me re-evaluate my life. Now when I pray, I give thanks. I pray for the strength to keep going, even when I don’t feel like it anymore.
And I’ve realized I don’t need to be married right away. And that no matter what, Don will be there on my wedding day. I know he was always proud of me. I have learned more about myself in the past year and half since Don has been gone than in 26 years of living.
It was through his death that I came face-to-face with true happiness. And amidst my grief, I found joy.
Photo by Will Folson (Flickr CC)
