Tough Questions...

It's been 20 months and 6 days since my dad died. He was 48. I was 24. My kids were 2, 1 and 6 months...

I still have so many...issues? questions? emotions?...about his death and my life without him. My now 4 year old and 3 year old have questions...ask questions...(I have too many thoughts swirling through my head to make this seem an even semi-coherent post, but hang in there. I'm trying).


Tonight at the dinner table with my 3 children, 'R', as we will call him, says to me very matter-of-fact, "Cancer killed Papa, mom."
Yes, R. It did.
"Well, I am scared of cancer. If I get it, I will die...which is bad."
Yes, R. That would be bad. But you don't have to worry. There are many things we can do to prevent cancer. We can be mindful of the food we eat, the medicine we take, the environment we surround our self with...do you know some of the things we eat the most of are at the top of the list of the best anti-oxidants? "What are those, mom?"
Anti-oxidants are things that fight toxins. Blueberries are number one. Broccoli is on the list, too. And did you know you are making your brain and heart healthy right now by eating your dinner? Salmon is sooooo good for you!
"What else can we do, mom?", asked E.
Well, our cousin runs. She runs and runs and runs and do you know what people give her to keep running?
"What mom?!" R asks
Money. And do you know where that money goes? The LLS. And they use it to fund research so that one day when someone is diagnosed with cancer they can go to the doctor and get medicine to make them better.

Our conversation continued on ways we can keep ourselves healthy and ways we can help the cause...but all I really wanted was for the conversation to never have to happen in the first place. I wanted my dad there, eating with us. Telling the kids how great my maple salmon and home made fried rice are. I wanted to hear him laugh when E told me she tooted at school when the teacher was reading during story time. I wanted him to smile when my youngest son, L, said "I wuff you, mom" in the special way he does and I wanted to see him well up when R recited our table prayer all by himself. I just wanted him there. And moments like that, where all I want is for him to be around, happen. Every. Single. Day.  I miss him. I miss him all the time.

People like to tell you it gets better. That it hurts less. The pain becomes easier to live with...they all lied. So far, for me, it has yet to get better. I guess I talk about it less, express it outwardly less...but its just as present on the inside as it ever was. It has changed my entire life. I don't know how to exist in a world where my dad no longer is.

For the most part I try and answer the kids questions as best I can. It is quite hard though, at times, since I am really just treading water trying to keep myself from drowning in the 'stuff' I harbor myself. I know shit happens. It happens to everybody and things much worse than this happen all the time to people. I get that. I can't change that. I am just trying to live by the prayer that meant to much to my dad and that I have recited every day since the day of his diagnosis to myself...I just need those three little words these days...serenity. courage. wisdom.