September 5, 2016
Tomorrow is Logan’s first day of 4th grade. Coming back from the beach we stopped at Wal-Mart to stock up on school supplies like we do every year. But this year is different. The rush of emotions, the whirlwind of the past few days have left me and my parents exhausted as we have been grappling with the news that there are no more medical options left to help cure Logan’s cancer.
Logan and I found some beanbag chairs that were sitting in the big metal bins that line the aisles of Wal-Mart. He and I arranged them facing each other, feet up in the middle of the store, reclining, casually discussing the nerves he was having about his first day tomorrow and what to expect for this next year as a new 4th grader. For a moment, I almost forgot the reality that is my life, and it felt so normal.
Reflecting with my family this weekend about our 6 year battle with cancer, I was reminded that I was just 13 when Logan was first diagnosed. I was young and those years were extremely hard for me. They have been a crucial part of my formation as a women and a human being. I have been very quiet and private about my personal feelings in what our family has gone through, especially in high school. Not wanting anyone to talk about it in my small private school community because I was embarrassed at how depressing our situation was. I remember feeling (and still feel) like I couldn’t stand when people told me how sorry they were about “my brothers cancer,” because how does one even respond to that anyway? “Oh thanks for feeling badly for us (insert uncomfortable silence).” And then you just look awkwardly at each other while a heavy topic was just dropped like a bomb that you cannot ignore and you can’t really go into detail because the truth is too heavy for most people but you can’t really just bring up light conversation about the weather either. It has happened to me COUNTLESS times. I know people’s hearts are good and well meaning. But when they say those things to me it feels so uncomfortable, because in all honesty how could my response even begin to convey the hell I’ve witnessed my family go through and been through myself? There will never be enough or adequate words to describe the nightmare we have lived unless you’ve experienced it yourself.
I have always wondered what my roll is in all of this is. I am not the child with cancer, and I am not the parent of the child with cancer. I am the older sibling. Our lives often revolve around Logan a lot because of his illness and that is difficult for me because it’s mostly about him and rightfully so. But I often wonder if my pain is significant and if I even have a valid reason to feel like I’ve been through this too even though I do not physically have this disease. However, it is a deeply intimate part of my life (where few to none have ventured) that has been a great source of pain. Something I have never truly shared with anyone, even close friends, or partners. I remember many times people would write cards to my family for meals or encouragement and they would label “Dear Matt, Jo and Logan…” or in church “Lord, give Matt, Jo and Logan strength…” Often I felt conflicted: left out because my name wasn’t there, but also embarrassed at school if my family’s name was mentioned in prayer or for a fundraiser. I know deep in my heart that no one meant to leave me out or embarrass me and MANY people surrounded me, stood by me and invested in me (I am forever grateful to you, and you know who you are). But it still made me wonder if my roll in all of this was as important or even existent. Did people see how deeply effected I was by my brothers sickness? What could I take away from all this? What was there for me to learn?
This past year and half I was not very present in my family. I had often struggled with my roll in the family as cancer affects our daily lives. I think part of me thought I could solve that by trying to start my own life outside of that. I think it is healthy and natural to start your own life outside of the one you grew up, but not in the way that I was doing it. I wanted to run as far away from the reality that was my life as much as I could. I was not around much. I was leaning and relying too heavily on unreliable support and pretending to invest in things that I knew deep down were not and were never going to fulfill me the way I needed them too. I was searching for undeniable stability in extremely unstable places and deep down I knew that. But I was good at faking it, faking like I was starting my own life somewhere else and I had everything together and was full of happiness (right? WRONG). It's like trying to fix a hole in a sinking boat with some cloth or a rag; it wont last very long, sooner or later the cloth will absorb as much water as it can and the boat will begin to flood again. Certain circumstances took place and I was forced to re-organize myself. I had to take a hard look at myself, what I valued in life, where I wanted to go and who I wanted to be. Looking at my life thus far, I can see that everything that happens is meant to happen because every event is training for the bigger picture.
This past Thursday my mom told me the "were out of options, were giving this a year," consensus of the doctors. I remember looking at our blue bathroom tile floor and thinking, “this can not be my life, this isn’t my life, whose life is this?” It was such a shock and also not a shock at all if that makes sense. I cried for a bit, asked my parents what the next months were going to look like etc. But then, something in me clicked and the most amazing thing happened. I felt this huge wave of peace overwhelm me.
The news has been crippling for everyone to grapple with but on Friday I saw my mother so stricken with grief it was as if she had left herself, it was a side of her I did not recognize. She was gone, her body was present but she was not. My father, in the midst of his own heartbreak and confusion was trying to take care of her as well, but also racked with grief and pain of the reality of loosing his only son. I know in my heart that the peace I feel was and is God given because my heart was not (and is not) heavy. I had peace. It allowed me to take Logan for the day while my parents grieved. I am seeing the bigger picture now though. I have realized that the peace I feel is crucial for what awaits my family in the following months. I will never forget looking at my mother the next day and telling her of the peace I felt. I told her I did not want to have to feel sad. I told her that we had to carry on normally as a family and not let this dark cloud hang over our house and our lives and every activity following us. But I also told her that she could not leave us. I needed her, Logan needed her and my dad needed her. We all needed each other. Each and every one of us needs to be present (emotionally, physically etc.) as these next months follow.
Currently I do not feel sad, because I do not want to be sad. I am done being sad, like I have been for the past 6 years. A few hours after my mother told me, I decided I was not going to let grief rule my life. That is not to say I will not grieve when the time comes. I will be kind to myself and take care of myself as I have learned to do very well. However, I will NOT spend the rest of the time that Logan has here being sad about what is coming. I am not sure if that is right or wrong, but I decided that I will not be upset at the “cards” we’ve been dealt. I will be grateful. I am grateful. I am grateful for everything that has happened to me, to us on this journey and in life good or bad because it shapes me. I am thankful I am not stuck in a place where there is no growth or change. I feel that I can even say that I am thankful for the trials I have had in my life, and that they have NEVER hindered me from thriving. I have overcome each and every one, will over come many more. I am stronger and better because of it.
I often look at my mother (my biggest hero and inspiration), who has been through MANY hard things in her lifetime (she’s going to write a bestseller someday people, I know it) and am amazed at what a light she is to other people. It is amazing to watch people open up at the light she is. It is beautiful. I have always wanted to be the same kind of light, to touch people the way she does. I have prayed my whole life that I would be a source of light, abundant love and an inspiration to others. I am learning that it does not come easy, or all at once. It comes in the darkest days of your life, when you are standing in the face of disappointment, fear, failure and sadness, or hardship, anger, and look at all of it and you are faced with a choice: to let it rule your life or to let it mold you and make you stronger. I will not be over come by these things. I will never feel sorry for myself. I will not be unhappy. I will not let anything stop me from living a passionate, BIG and full life with many joyful moments. I will not be ungrateful for the blessings I have been given. I will not sit and complain about the crappy things I’ve been through or the troubles that await me. I just will not. I choose the opposite of all of it, and I will continue to do it every minuet of everyday. I choose love. I choose happiness. I choose joy. I choose to be present, exactly where I am, and truly loving every minuet of it; deciding to make the best out of everything I’ve been blessed with, no matter what the outcome of life is. I choose life.
That is my role. And that’s who I’ve decided to be.
Tomorrow is Logan’s first day of 4th grade. Coming back from the beach we stopped at Wal-Mart to stock up on school supplies like we do every year. But this year is different. The rush of emotions, the whirlwind of the past few days have left me and my parents exhausted as we have been grappling with the news that there are no more medical options left to help cure Logan’s cancer.
Logan and I found some beanbag chairs that were sitting in the big metal bins that line the aisles of Wal-Mart. He and I arranged them facing each other, feet up in the middle of the store, reclining, casually discussing the nerves he was having about his first day tomorrow and what to expect for this next year as a new 4th grader. For a moment, I almost forgot the reality that is my life, and it felt so normal.
Reflecting with my family this weekend about our 6 year battle with cancer, I was reminded that I was just 13 when Logan was first diagnosed. I was young and those years were extremely hard for me. They have been a crucial part of my formation as a women and a human being. I have been very quiet and private about my personal feelings in what our family has gone through, especially in high school. Not wanting anyone to talk about it in my small private school community because I was embarrassed at how depressing our situation was. I remember feeling (and still feel) like I couldn’t stand when people told me how sorry they were about “my brothers cancer,” because how does one even respond to that anyway? “Oh thanks for feeling badly for us (insert uncomfortable silence).” And then you just look awkwardly at each other while a heavy topic was just dropped like a bomb that you cannot ignore and you can’t really go into detail because the truth is too heavy for most people but you can’t really just bring up light conversation about the weather either. It has happened to me COUNTLESS times. I know people’s hearts are good and well meaning. But when they say those things to me it feels so uncomfortable, because in all honesty how could my response even begin to convey the hell I’ve witnessed my family go through and been through myself? There will never be enough or adequate words to describe the nightmare we have lived unless you’ve experienced it yourself.
I have always wondered what my roll is in all of this is. I am not the child with cancer, and I am not the parent of the child with cancer. I am the older sibling. Our lives often revolve around Logan a lot because of his illness and that is difficult for me because it’s mostly about him and rightfully so. But I often wonder if my pain is significant and if I even have a valid reason to feel like I’ve been through this too even though I do not physically have this disease. However, it is a deeply intimate part of my life (where few to none have ventured) that has been a great source of pain. Something I have never truly shared with anyone, even close friends, or partners. I remember many times people would write cards to my family for meals or encouragement and they would label “Dear Matt, Jo and Logan…” or in church “Lord, give Matt, Jo and Logan strength…” Often I felt conflicted: left out because my name wasn’t there, but also embarrassed at school if my family’s name was mentioned in prayer or for a fundraiser. I know deep in my heart that no one meant to leave me out or embarrass me and MANY people surrounded me, stood by me and invested in me (I am forever grateful to you, and you know who you are). But it still made me wonder if my roll in all of this was as important or even existent. Did people see how deeply effected I was by my brothers sickness? What could I take away from all this? What was there for me to learn?
This past year and half I was not very present in my family. I had often struggled with my roll in the family as cancer affects our daily lives. I think part of me thought I could solve that by trying to start my own life outside of that. I think it is healthy and natural to start your own life outside of the one you grew up, but not in the way that I was doing it. I wanted to run as far away from the reality that was my life as much as I could. I was not around much. I was leaning and relying too heavily on unreliable support and pretending to invest in things that I knew deep down were not and were never going to fulfill me the way I needed them too. I was searching for undeniable stability in extremely unstable places and deep down I knew that. But I was good at faking it, faking like I was starting my own life somewhere else and I had everything together and was full of happiness (right? WRONG). It's like trying to fix a hole in a sinking boat with some cloth or a rag; it wont last very long, sooner or later the cloth will absorb as much water as it can and the boat will begin to flood again. Certain circumstances took place and I was forced to re-organize myself. I had to take a hard look at myself, what I valued in life, where I wanted to go and who I wanted to be. Looking at my life thus far, I can see that everything that happens is meant to happen because every event is training for the bigger picture.
This past Thursday my mom told me the "were out of options, were giving this a year," consensus of the doctors. I remember looking at our blue bathroom tile floor and thinking, “this can not be my life, this isn’t my life, whose life is this?” It was such a shock and also not a shock at all if that makes sense. I cried for a bit, asked my parents what the next months were going to look like etc. But then, something in me clicked and the most amazing thing happened. I felt this huge wave of peace overwhelm me.
The news has been crippling for everyone to grapple with but on Friday I saw my mother so stricken with grief it was as if she had left herself, it was a side of her I did not recognize. She was gone, her body was present but she was not. My father, in the midst of his own heartbreak and confusion was trying to take care of her as well, but also racked with grief and pain of the reality of loosing his only son. I know in my heart that the peace I feel was and is God given because my heart was not (and is not) heavy. I had peace. It allowed me to take Logan for the day while my parents grieved. I am seeing the bigger picture now though. I have realized that the peace I feel is crucial for what awaits my family in the following months. I will never forget looking at my mother the next day and telling her of the peace I felt. I told her I did not want to have to feel sad. I told her that we had to carry on normally as a family and not let this dark cloud hang over our house and our lives and every activity following us. But I also told her that she could not leave us. I needed her, Logan needed her and my dad needed her. We all needed each other. Each and every one of us needs to be present (emotionally, physically etc.) as these next months follow.
Currently I do not feel sad, because I do not want to be sad. I am done being sad, like I have been for the past 6 years. A few hours after my mother told me, I decided I was not going to let grief rule my life. That is not to say I will not grieve when the time comes. I will be kind to myself and take care of myself as I have learned to do very well. However, I will NOT spend the rest of the time that Logan has here being sad about what is coming. I am not sure if that is right or wrong, but I decided that I will not be upset at the “cards” we’ve been dealt. I will be grateful. I am grateful. I am grateful for everything that has happened to me, to us on this journey and in life good or bad because it shapes me. I am thankful I am not stuck in a place where there is no growth or change. I feel that I can even say that I am thankful for the trials I have had in my life, and that they have NEVER hindered me from thriving. I have overcome each and every one, will over come many more. I am stronger and better because of it.
I often look at my mother (my biggest hero and inspiration), who has been through MANY hard things in her lifetime (she’s going to write a bestseller someday people, I know it) and am amazed at what a light she is to other people. It is amazing to watch people open up at the light she is. It is beautiful. I have always wanted to be the same kind of light, to touch people the way she does. I have prayed my whole life that I would be a source of light, abundant love and an inspiration to others. I am learning that it does not come easy, or all at once. It comes in the darkest days of your life, when you are standing in the face of disappointment, fear, failure and sadness, or hardship, anger, and look at all of it and you are faced with a choice: to let it rule your life or to let it mold you and make you stronger. I will not be over come by these things. I will never feel sorry for myself. I will not be unhappy. I will not let anything stop me from living a passionate, BIG and full life with many joyful moments. I will not be ungrateful for the blessings I have been given. I will not sit and complain about the crappy things I’ve been through or the troubles that await me. I just will not. I choose the opposite of all of it, and I will continue to do it every minuet of everyday. I choose love. I choose happiness. I choose joy. I choose to be present, exactly where I am, and truly loving every minuet of it; deciding to make the best out of everything I’ve been blessed with, no matter what the outcome of life is. I choose life.
That is my role. And that’s who I’ve decided to be.