Cancer has greatly affected my life. When I was younger, I watched my Grandpa Konz suffer through cancer that had spread to many parts of his body. I didn’t even get the chance to meet my Grandpa Brungardt because of lung cancer. Hospital visits every week were common, but they thankfully had become less frequent for a few years, that is, until November of 2008. That is when my Uncle Kenny was diagnosed with kidney cancer at the age of 53.

Thanksgiving started out like any other year, dinner with the family, my sister on my left, my mom on my right, going around stating all of the things we were thankful for. That night we shared many memories from throughout the years and had many laughs, until my mom received a call from my grandma. My grandma informed her that my Uncle Kenny finally went to the doctor for the pains he was feeling. The news came to be that Kenny had a large mass on one of his kidneys. It is hard to put into words the feeling I had experienced that day. I guess I could add that my whole body felt numb to say the least. Many questions ran through my head like: why my family, hadn’t we suffered enough, will he be OK? These questions seemed like a path down an endless road that I wouldn’t know the answer to, until the end was actually there, right before my eyes. My biggest fears were not being able to say goodbye or Kenny not knowing how much he truly meant to me. Although it was hard for my family to imagine Kenny going through what his father endured, we knew he was a fighter and we hoped and prayed that the lump could be removed with little pain so we could all move on. The doctor went further into checking out the spot. Meanwhile, he discovered a tumor the size of an oblong watermelon, along with spots on his liver and there was not much he could do. We were completely helpless.

Chemo quickly started after the diagnosis, day after day conversation revolved completely around him. It was hard to mention, but I felt like I needed to know exactly what was going on so I wasn’t blind sighted by it all. Constant thoughts went through my head wondering if this would be his last Christmas with us. I pushed the thought aside. My main focus was to make the most of my time left with him before he was unexpectedly taken away from me, and I did just that. Something as simple as hugging him longer or tighter when we were leaving made it seem as though I was also able to remember him longer. That Christmas was like all of the others, we celebrated the same traditions and everyone had a smile on their face, but I could tell there was something wrong and everyone was generally thinking the same thing: this could, and most likely, would be Kenny’s last Christmas with us. I tried my hardest not to go there, and when I did, I told myself it was bringing me down to think like that. I had to stay positive and make the best of what could be our last.

A new year, 2009, rolled around and our thoughts were optimistic for fantastic news, but again we were shot down. This is when we were informed that Kenny’s cancer had progressed to the fourth stage; this is about as bad as it gets. Every Sunday, my family faithfully traveled to Sioux Falls, South Dakota to the hospital where my uncle stayed. Most days he was very tired and sleeping, so we found ourselves occupying the entire waiting room with the abundance of people in our family. Many sat and talked, telling stories about Kenny, and just simply praying. With April quickly approaching, Kenny became more and more sick. He had fought hard, but slowly grew weaker and found it hard to continue his fight. This is when the family took a huge leap of faith and prayed until we thought we couldn’t pray anymore.One particular Sunday, actually the last Sunday I went to see Kenny, was exceptionally well. It seemed that for once there was no bad news, things had remained the same and we were OK with that. Right before we left to head back to Fort Dodge, we did our weekly goodbye routine. The whole family piled into Kenny’s now, home-like, hospital room to say goodbye until next week, then hugged and kissed him. I had to fight the urge to cry because I could not be weak in front of him, I had to stay strong. The line died down and I approached Kenny to hug and kiss him again, after I did, Kenny looked at me and said, “Jaci, you are so pretty, and thank you so much for the rosary, I love it and I love you very much.” That is when I lost it; I completely broke down and never, for the rest of my life, will I forget any detail of that moment. I remember exactly how the room was laid out with the bed in the back, a table, and the TV in the corner, and exactly what Kenny looked like: pale and weak on the outside, yet bright and strong on the inside. I can still picture it in my head to this day. In the weeks prior to that I made Kenny a rosary with black beads and a cross.The following week, my parents were asked to go on a cruise for my moms job. They talked to the doctor and Patty, my uncle’s wife, countless times and finally were convinced that Kenny would be fine until they got back, and there would be little to no change. So, they left and I was staying with my aunt and uncle for the week.

Things were the same, like the doctor said, until Tuesday night. I went to school, finished my homework, said my nighttime prayers and finally laid down for bed around 10:30 that night. I was almost asleep until I heard the home phone ring. My heart dropped and my stomach was queasy, no one called the home phone anymore. The next thing I heard explained it all, it was my aunt saying, “WHAT? NO!” I jumped out of bed and sprinted into their kitchen to find my aunt on the floor, barely holding it together while wiping tears from her eyes. All she could do was nod her head and hold me as it sank in. He was gone. All I could think was, this wasn’t supposed to happen, he was supposed to be fine until my mom got home, this can’t be real, but it was. When my uncle and cousins frantically rallied into the kitchen, Janet said that Kenny laid down to sleep and it happened, we couldn’t have wished for a better way for him to go, it was so peaceful. After about twenty minutes of constant crying, I could finally think again, Kenny was in a better place and not suffering anymore, this is what we wanted. As much as we wanted Kenny with us, it couldn’t happen so this was the next best thing. I pictured him in heaven with his angel wings along side my grandpa and great uncle Ron. At that moment, I smiled. My parents came home in time to be at the funeral and wake. It was tough to see him but he looked so much at peace. The final thing I saw before the casket closed and I gave him a last kiss was the rosary I made him, wrapped in his hands, and I too was at peace knowing everything would be all right.