Happiness Through Sorrow

 March 30, 2022

I am going on a field trip with my daughter to the Biltmore House. These kids have not been on a field trip in years, so any parent who doesn't agree to go with their kid for the first time in forever is, well, at least guilty of feeling less than. So, I agreed. I did the sub plans and all the extra stuff it requires for teachers to not do their regular things. It's a a lot, ya'll. 

I drove a nice (somewhat sleepy) hour to Asheville to meet the kids, and met up with some parents I have known for so many years. Our kids go back to kindergarten, first grade, and have made it through to fifth. So many parents and memories and hard times...

We eat with our kids and then drive to the actual house (mansion), and I get a text. A TEXT. It is from my dad. It says, 

"There is no easy way to tell you this. I have Stage 4 Metastatic Lung Cancer."

WTF? LUNG CANCER ? My dad? Um...My dad goes to the gym four to five days a week. My dad doesn't eat sweets and has never touched a cigarette (well, that I know of). My dad who watches everything he touches and eats. My dad that goes to the gym and discusses his workouts with me? Lung cancer? 

Back up. We knew he had a tumor. A tiny millimeter tumor in his kidney and one in his back. The theory was that these were all coming from the one in the kidney. The treatments sounded so positive. 

Now this. What? Lung cancer? What? Stage 4? What? What does this mean?

I immediately called my dad. He reminded me. "We do not know what this is. They have to do a biopsy. There are many treatments."

He has been through this nightmare with my mom. She had stage 4 breast cancer for 7 years. 7 YEARS. He did it all with her.

So...when I got his text, I announced to my two friends standing with me while waiting on the students to arrive, "Oh my gosh. My dad has Stage 4 Lung Cancer." I mean, you have to tell someone, right? I still feel like, "WTH?"

Then, the tour started. I had to keep moving, right? The day continued. Was it bad? No. Was it sad? No. 

I shared again with a friend who has known my family for a long time the news of my dad's prognosis. 

Did the day get sad? No. Did the day go wrong? No.

In the end, I had a great day. It was a great, memorable day. It was beautiful, and Hadley had a great time. 

Did I find out my dad has a not-so-pleasant form of cancer? Yes.

In the days to follow, I told more friends and were so comforted by their support and love. After all, the quality of life totally depends on the people that surround us.  

And you know what?

I have had four great days since I found out my dad has had a serious form of cancer. It has been FOUR days since he told me. 

Here's the thing. Life is hard. I recently told Charlie life is shit. (Hey, I had just found out my ONE alive parent had cancer.)  BUT life is also good. Good things happen all the time. All day. The bad and sad things are PART of it all, but they aren't all of it. We continue with the good things.

I recently heard Brene Brown quote this: 

Let that sink in. Pain is part of the road we walk. Pain doesn't detour us. Pain doesn't stop us. 

Have I stopped? No. Have I had happy days? Every single one. Have I had sad moments? YES. I am living a nightmare. BUT the nightmare doesn't last every second. The seconds are filled with people I love and people that bring me joy. 

As my dad says, "I'm not dead yet." What he means by this, at least in my interpretation, is, "Please move on and enjoy your days. Enjoy our time together. Enjoy life. Please do not mourn while I'm still here." 

That's what life is. It's enjoying the moments of happiness, sandwiched between the moments of sorrow. They go hand in hand. They are all part of the road.

So, what I tell my kids is the truth. Life is shit. And life is great. You have to know how to deal with the shit to see the beauty in between. It all happens at once. It is interwoven. One doesn't stop the other. One doesn't even pause the other. The happen simultaneously. The loss and the gains. 

And you might want to start therapy. Now.