Carpe Diem

In October 2007 my son was diagnosed with what turned out to be a fatal brain tumor. After 16 months of long hospital stays, chemotherapy, radiation, stem cell transplants, remission and palliative chemotherapy, the tumor overtook his 4 1/2 year old body. He died at home in our family room.

For a very long time now, I've listened to the words that others issue regarding the comfort they find in God's plan. I translate the religious into the cosmic, God into the Universe, intention into randomness. I know they care and are struggling with what to say and I appreciate the efforts.

Lately though, it's dawning on me that there is no public paradigm that families like ours can attach to help us steer through the grief and loss. We've taken deliberate steps to avoid 'hope'. Hope carries with it an expectation of what will happen. We've avoided 'knowing' that he'll make it. We focused instead on the daily tasks we needed to perform to keep him alive, comfortable and happy for the duration. We steered clear of language like 'Cancer Fears Me' or 'battling' or 'fighting'. We turned instead to a metaphor of guiding the boat down the stream, avoiding the rocks where we could and preparing for those we couldn't. We looked directly into our situation and accepted it for what is was. We worked to accept the reality of what was happening instead of looking for it to be different.

And now he's gone. No action we could have taken would have ultimately changed that. We do not have expectations to adjust. We do not have regrets about not enjoying or making the most of each moment with him. Our daughters are dealing with this well. We're sad but not angry. We miss him desperately but do not await any sort of reunion in heaven. If we were focused on preventing the inevitable we would not have been able to attend to the most important time we had with him.

To be clear, we did not expect him to die either. We suspended looking too far and pinning any sort of expectations of what we wanted or thought should be. Did I expect him to be good at sports? at school? Did I expect him to marry? All of those had to be abandoned. If they happened, great. But being tied to those was folly in the face of what we had to endure. Instead we awoke each day and were grateful for it. Each night as we lay down with him to sleep, a sadness for the day spent attended our thoughts, but not regret. Only wanting more.

So if you read this and you wonder if God has a plan and ask why He may have picked you or your son or daughter. Consider for a moment that there is no intention in the Universe. Only random faults and mutations in genes. Some are wonderful and are the reason I can write and think these very words. Some are terrible and are why I now have no son. Consider that perhaps wishing and hoping is harmful, not helpful. Consider that keeping your eyes focused on what is occurring in front of them may be the most wonderful gift you can give yourself. Consider that being grateful for what you have is a far better mental attitude than worrying about what you don't. Consider seizing this day, this day only. Yesterday cannot be changed and there will be time to take care of tomorrow then.

Carpe Diem.