Messages From Dad

I miss both of my parents every day. My dad died 25 years ago; my mom has been gone 8 years. Twenty-five years is a long time. I was able to make 17 more years of memories with my mom. Memories with my dad haven’t faded so much as they are farther back. More effort is required to revisit them.

I have hit the age where more people in my age group have lost a parent. We share our hurt. I also know people who have both parents still living and they don’t see or talk to them very often. I don’t wish them ill will. I’m thrilled they are still alive. It’s wonderful these friends and acquaintances don’t know the searing pain of losing a parent. They don’t live with grief that runs deep and long. But still, I feel it’s unfair that I’ve lost both. My parents were older. They developed health problems. They died. We all know life isn’t fair.

A while back, I was wishing for something from my dad. My mom pops up often in dreams and waking memories. I don’t get a lot of that from my dad. Time passed factors into it. I put it out there that I wanted to hear from him. In dreams, or signs, or messages, or something. Anything. I miss him a great deal. I don’t think it’s said enough how much adults still need parental love.

One of my routines before crawling into bed is to read for a few minutes. I settled one night into an oak rocker in my bedroom that I picked up at an estate sale. It’s solidly made and has a simple patterned upholstered seat and back. Soft lighting provided by a Tiffany like lamp with shades of blues and greens lit the corner of my bedroom. I rocked gently and read.

At one point, I turned my head to the left toward the table where the lamp sat.

And there he was.

.

.

.

Not as a ghost, hallucination, or in any human form. I saw his handwriting poking out from a small stack of treasures that has sat there between five to ten years.

It had been there every night. His handwriting jumped out this night when I needed a sign.

It was a 3 x 5 notecard that had completely browned over time. My father served in WWII. This could have fit in his wallet but I’m not sure it did because it wasn’t bent. If not in his wallet, it was likely in a desk drawer or the top drawer in the chest where a lot of papers and some jewelry were kept. I’m not sure where I discovered it. I felt it was important and I took it. Clearly, I also forgot about it, but here it was to remind me when I needed it. It was one of those moments mixed with smiles and a slow but steady flow of tears. He had copied a quote from Winston Churchill about wartime living on the notecard.

I pulled the notecard out with my thumb and index finger like one would in a magic trick where you picked any card from cards splayed in front of you like a fan. I read it slowly as if it were a riddle, for that was what it felt to me. The word defiance hit me stronger than the others. I don’t want to dwell in the battle imagery that many who live with cancer use and just as many find cringeworthy. But hey, there it was staring at me in the face. These words were about war, not cancer. Exceptions must be made. If anyone has applied them to cancer, it’s me.

Allow me to say I don’t feel I am in defeat. I feel beat up. I feel constantly up against some stupid cancer or noncancer thing. I feel like I can’t get through to the very people working to keep me alive. I feel exhausted and that I never can catch a break. I feel defiant though and unwilling to give an inch more to cancer.

As far as the other words are concerned, I’m always searching for resolution. Mainly, I search at my oncology appointments through time with my oncologist and all the tests and treatments I do. But I look for answers in so many places. I read articles. I follow leads on the internet. I make note of studies others are in that may be of some benefit to me. There are group chats. I talk to and message friends. Virtual conferences are attended such as the SABCS (San Antonio Breast Cancer Symposium) and LBBC (Living Beyond Breast Cancer). Occasionally, I’ll listen to a podcast. To be honest, it all overwhelms me. My days can’t be only about metastatic breast cancer.

Magnanimity and good will are always good guiding words. Generosity and compassion should never be overlooked. We need both in our world now more than ever.

I set the card back on the side table and shuffled through what else was in the small stack. There was a prayer book with a daily reflection I’d given my mom one year for her birthday. I found some of my dad’s business cards and his resumé. There is a grief journal I started after my mom died. The journal deserves a separate post of its own.

I also found the last birthday card I gave my dad along with more of those smiles and loving tears.

The middle section jumped out to me where it read he knew in his heart that I’d find a way. I realize I chose the card, but it was chosen based on who he was. I always knew my dad’s belief in me was present and constant whether whatever I did was big or small. I’m sure it’s why I chose this particular card. He knew I’d do well on tests. He thought it was great I played tennis. He supported all my band activities. He happily shuttled me back and forth from college to home on weekends. My dad knew I’d find a way. As evidenced on this card, even as a young adult the idea of finding a way was developing, perhaps just a seed of the oak tree pictured on the card. I would have to find my way a lot sooner without him.

A few weeks later he came to me again, this time in a dream. I was at my grandma’s farmhouse in the kitchen, milling around where the cookie jar was kept. Ah, that cookie jar. My grandma, mom, and dad were all in the dining room. Dad called for me to come into the living room. As I got closer to the adjoining doorway, everything went bright white and I couldn’t see. I knew my dad was going to hug me. I kept inching forward into the blinding light. Eventually, I shuffled into him and we hugged. I felt warm all over and felt a tight squeeze of his arms around me. I couldn’t see anything. Then I was jolted awake. I always wake up too soon. I am convinced it was a real hug from him. Make of that what you will.

I got my sign, my message, my something. I received several. Thanks, Dad.

You are there for me.

Always.

Cancer and Faith

Cancer makes faith and religion harder for me. I’ve always questioned and still believed. I haven’t wavered on what I consider the big things and feel each of these main points is clear enough to stand on their own. I am firm on these aspects of my faith:

• There is a God (or universal being, higher source, energy).

• God is love and God loves all of us.

• Religion is not God.

• Faith and religion are not the same thing.

• I am a spiritual being having a human experience in a body.

• Our purpose is to be happy and to help one another.

• Heaven is real.

How does cancer muddle faith and religion?

  • Many of these reasons overlap one another. Many people live by believing God has a plan, a plan for them, and that cancer must be part of His plan. Buying into suffering and cancer as God’s plan contradicts my belief that God is love. God doesn’t want me or anyone to suffer. He doesn’t want misery and unhappiness. Cancer isn’t good. It isn’t a blessing. It isn’t part of a plan or grand design. It steals, destroys, and kills. Cancer isn’t God or part of a plan.
  • People beat cancer because God is on their side. Ooooh, this boils my blood. This implies those who die from metastatic cancer are somehow Godless. They didn’t pray hard enough. Their faith or belief wasn’t strong enough. No, no, and no. I pray. I have faith. Would this waver when cancer recurs or returns as metastatic disease? What did they do wrong? Nothing.
  • People can pray away cancer. Nope. Here’s one that overlaps with God being on someone’s side. Prayer is powerful. Miracles happen. People pray and still pass. God didn’t need one more angel. When people say they pray for me, I have to wonder what specifically is in their prayer. Is it that I don’t suffer? Is it I have more time? Is it that effective treatments are matched to me so I have a complete response? Is it for a miracle? Some of these prayers can contradict one another. I don’t want anyone’s prayers unless they align with my prayers and goals for health and life. Maybe it’s just something some people say and they don’t follow through with the prayer part.
  • People with cancer must have done something wrong and have gravely sinned. Honestly, I don’t hear this one too often because of the company I keep, yet I know there are groups of people out there who believe such nonsense. They aren’t my people and I believe there is something fundamentally wrong with their belief system if this is something they believe.

How can God exist and cause such suffering and pain?

I wish I knew.

A good friend and I have an ongoing discussion on the existence of God and why bad things happen to people and in the world. She questions a lot more than I do and has become agnostic over the years through watching her father pass from a long slow decline after a stroke and other health issues, and seeing her mother hidden inside a body ravaged from Alzheimer’s disease. She knows what I’ve gone through losing my parents. She’s been there for me as I live with metastatic cancer. Events in the world eat at her belief like a parasite. There is too much suffering for her to believe God exists. She looks to me and I confess I have a tough time refuting her arguments. I don’t think I’ve helped her, and I struggle not to have my own beliefs erode.

What can I say? How can I reconcile God’s existence and why bad things happen?

The internet hasn’t helped me at all. Lots of Bible verses surface. If someone already questions belief in God, these are hardly helpful. I keep a journal of quotes from many sources that support my beliefs. Bible verses are included in these. I tend to use broader examples from everyday life and the world. Furthermore, not everyone is Christian, and there are many other good fits for someone looking for the right home for their beliefs. Attaching a label to your beliefs doesn’t do much for me anyway. I’m more of an action-based gal.

My belief is not up for debate. I know where I stand with God. I believe. My prayer life is good.

Cancer doesn’t even need to be the problem, the plague, or the evil applied to my reasoning. Replace cancer with COVID. Use the January 6th riots on the Capitol, the violence, and the attempted coup on the US government as your lens. Take terrorism, racism, poverty, homelessness, domestic abuse, destruction of the environment, lack of mental health resources, drug abuse, natural disasters, or something else when thinking about why bad things happen. Does saying God has a plan work here? How about God being on someone’s side (the wrong side) when these bad things happen? Did people get what they deserved due to some grave sin? Of course not. It doesn’t hold up.

Somehow saying God has a plan when someone is diagnosed with cancer or dies from cancer is supposed to comfort people. It’s the exception to the above scenarios. It’s unsettling, uncomforting, and not an exception.

I’m going to keep something incredibly complex as simple I can.

Bad things happen because

• of others’ actions (free will).

• of our own actions (free will).

• of natural disasters (nature).

• of imperfect science (imperfect bodies / science).

• of unknowns (unexplained).

The unexplained is where GOD comes in. Some things are not for us to know. Why do we think we must understand everything? We are only humans and God is divine. This is where it gets a little sticky because it’s the central question. GOD is an unexplainable entity. We use words like crimes, tragedies, disasters, and accidents to explain horrible events.

Good things happen because

• of others’ actions (free will).

• of our own actions (free will).

• of nature (nature).

• of science (research / science).

• of unknowns (unexplained).

The unexplained is where GOD comes in. Some things are not for us to know. Why do we think we must understand everything? We are only humans and God is divine. We use words like miracles, blessings, gifts, and destiny to explain wonderful events.

The reasons are the same. Our language and perceptions change. Our language is the construct. Faith isn’t based on facts or language. Belief is the real deal.

How do you explain love? How do you explain a soul? Why did we develop brains that allow us to feel compassion, sadness, and joy? How do you explain consistencies across time and cultures throughout history and present day that all have similarities in worship and a higher being? Yes, I have lots of questions and I believe.

We are here having a human experience – we are more than our bodies. That’s what it means to BELIEVE.

God comes down to belief.

Thank you for reading.