Death

I have intentionally avoided the deep and dark topics with this blog. Instead, I have used it as a tool to keep friends and family, and any who cares to follow along, familiar with my day-to-day battle with cancer. But it only seems natural that when one discovers that one has stage four cancer that a discussion on the topic of death would logically be in order.

It took burying my son's goldfish this weekend to push me over the edge and attempt to write on this subject. We buried my son's fish of over 3 years in the backyard next to Boo, our beloved cat of over 15 years who passed away in October of last year. My son's tears upon feeling the loss of a loved one strangely and strongly compelled me to write this entry that I have probably avoided. And as of right now I don't know where it will take me.

I remember watching an IMAX film a couple of years ago called Life or something like that. It was about...life. I distinctly remember a line from that movie (here comes my token movie quote)

"From the moment we are born, our bodies are dying"

Death is all around us. Most of us have experienced the despair of losing a loved pet. Others have felt the sting of the passing of a close friend or family member. On that regard I have been mercifully spared. Sure, I have had grandparents pass away. But in reality, I was not close enough to them to feel the full depths of pain that come from losing a loved one. While I have felt the great loss of losing a beloved pet, I can only imagine the depth of emotion that must come from losing a spouse, or a child, or a sibling. Yet that very thing is happening every day all around us. People are losing loved ones all the time. Some die quickly in accidents like the mining accident that has been in the news recently, and for others it is a long drawn out process, like someone afflicted with cancer.

When you have cancer, you become much more aware of all the cancer stories that are going on around you. It is amazing how many people I come into contact with that have a first-hand experience with cancer, meaning either they themselves or somebody close to them has/had cancer. I am on a weekly email prayer chain distribution for a relatively small church and it is frightening how many times the word cancer appears on the list of those asking for prayers. Simply walking into a place like MD Anderson, where all they do is treat people with cancer, and to see how busy it is, you get a taste of how cancer has touched the lives of so many. And cancer doesn't discriminate. Sure there plenty of edlerly there, but there are also a lot of people such as myself and even younger. There are sad stories of lost battles and triumphant stories of overcoming great odds. I prefer the latter.

I am afraid to die. When I first heard that I had cancer and then again each time I got news from the doctor that it is worse than expected, the terror of "I don't want to die" kept ringing in my head. I realize that being a Christ follower and accepting that spending an eternity in heaven should be a source of comfort in times like these, but nontheless I am afraid. The thought of my children growing up without their father and my wife growing old without her husband has brought me to tears on several occasions. That is exactly why I put that picture of my kids above my monitor. A daily reminder to fight this thing like I have never fought for anything ever before. I want to be there when my son graduates from college. I want to walk my daughter down the aisle when she gets married. I want to grow old with my wife. Will I get that opportunity? Only God knows. But I am asking him for that very thing every day.

My dad has a story of a plant nursery in Houston that won't guarantee the plants they sell for a year like Home Depot or Lowe's will. Their answer when asked why is "how can you guarantee a plant when not even human life is guaranteed for a year." There are few guarantees in life. Ironically, death is one of those guarantees. Hopefully just not yet.