I lived a normal childhood. I grew up in a one-story house, in an ordinary town with two parents that loved me. Life was simple. I wasn’t responsible for anything. I wasn’t accountable for anyone, other than myself. I lived life carelessly. When I was young, I thought my parents were the most important people in the world. I would watch my mom do her makeup and fix her hair and dream of one day growing up and being just like her. Then I would look at my dad; my dad was my hero. His cheesy jokes, his horrible dance moves, the funny looking patch of gray hair on top of his black head of hair are only some of the things I loved about my dad. I was happy. I was blessed. I lived a normal childhood-- at least I did, until September 4, 2004. I was eight when my dad was diagnosed with stage three colon cancer. During that time, I experienced what it was like to know everything, without knowing anything at all. No one ever explained it in detail, they never said the word out out loud, but-- I knew. She thought I couldn’t hear her crying, he thought I wouldn’t notice when he stopped coming home, or understand the severity of the situation, but--I did. Honestly, I didn’t need all of the details or even to hear them say that six-letter word. All I wanted was the truth; and I found it in their eyes. I watched the one who was supposed to be the strongest person in my life, suddenly become a weaker version of himself. Time passed and I quit being happy, I no longer believed that I was blessed, and from that point on, nothing about my life felt normal. Everything simple became complicated, even my hope began to fade away, and it was then I started to see the world as a different place. The smell of the cold hospital, the way people looked at me, the optimistic doctors, the machines, the sympathy , and the unfamiliar look in my dads eyes became a part of my world. Those things did not only become normal, but the things that I started to expect. Everyone thinks that they are going to know what to do, that they will be prepared, and have a plan, but-- that is impossible. You think that you will be strong and know all the right words to say, or you might even believe that if all of those efforts fail, you will still have hope in your heart, but the truth is-- you won’t. When something unthinkable happens, that threatens the life of someone you love you won’t know what to do, or where to find strength, or have time for plans; It will just happen. It's like one minute you are a kid and you're happy and the world makes sense. Then life happens. Your dad gets cancer and you change. I was eight years old when I was forced to change. It was the first time I realized that life is not fair. There was nothing anyone could do or say to fix it. I couldn’t find the words to make it better or a prayer to numb the pain in my heart. This was the truth, the reality that I was forced to accept.
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Today, nine years later, my family and I feel blessed. In 2004, my dad faced a 40% chance of survival. On September 4, 2014 my dad will celebrate his tenth year cancer free; and for that, I am forever grateful.