I got in the shower this morning to get going with the day. As I put shaving cream on my hand, the smell (Gillette Foamy Regular – old school, kids) immediately made me think about my father.
I am now the age my father was when I was 6 years old. Looking in the non-fog shaving mirror, I scanned through my memory thinking of what an amazing feat it was to raise my brother and I as a single dad. I can’t imagine my life today with two small sons, a business to run, and having the success he lived with such joy. I can believe I’d be frozen with fear. He wasn’t.
Today is the 43rd anniversary of my mother passing away. I wanted to re-post my blog post from last year in her memory, and for everyone affected by cancer. I’m on your side.
******************************************
Sigh.
I’ll start with that.
42 years ago today my birth mother passed away. Of cancer. I never forget the date. Ever.
I refer to my birth mother because I was always aware of the fabulous women she sent to watch over me and mother me after she was gone. Truly, I was blessed to have the women around me who make me who I am today.
I just heard from a friend that his friend is going into surgery within hours for her cancer.
As the child of a cancer victim, and as a cancer ‘thriver’ myself (two years past my own journey), sometimes it takes a long, heavy sigh to accommodate these moments.
On Facebook there’s a campaign called “I wish Cancer would get Cancer and die”. I couldn’t agree more.
The cancer journey is truly like a bad movie. It’s unreal, surreal, long and incredibly scary. It’s not a funny Seth Rogen movie that has a funny, happy ending. It’s tough. I won’t sugar coat it.
I was lucky. I know it every day.
But a lot of people have much more difficult roads to travel with this insidious thing. I met them in the hospital, I watched their incredible courage.
My mother was one of those people. I was so young I don’t remember much about my birth mother except she fought hard. And was beautiful.
I like to joke I got one of those qualities from her. And it’s not my sexy good looks.
While October is “Breast Cancer Awareness” month, let’s think about all those who are fighting cancer. Period.
Let’s all think some good thoughts their way.
I’ll end this with my favorite picture I have of my parents. My mother is gorgeously stylish, and my dad looks like the stud he was. This was right before her battle began. This is how I think of her. Cancer can never change that.
Let’s all think of those fighting the good fight in those fabulous times before the fight. They are still those same people. They just have a little more on their plates.
I’m on their side. Every day. I’m up for that. It’s the very least I can do.
No fear. Forward.
