This Christmas holiday was very special as we got to spend an inordinate amount of time with just the four of us. It’s the only benefit Covid has provided us and I’ll take the plus side anytime.
Having a family dinner every night for two weeks was a true blessing, especially since it allowed us enough time to share what is going on in each of ours lives. And we shared a lot.
Each one of us has our own stuff we are dealing with. Each one of us has our ‘hard’ to manage. And together we helped each other find ways to cope with our adventures.
And that made me happy.
But what made me more happy, upon reflection tonight, was that we really got into deep conversations about my cancer.
Tracey and I have always felt it important to include the kids in the discussions, to keep them informed and to share the ups and the downs, well, most of them. Sometimes I have a habit of over sharing so I keep some things closer to my chest.
One night we spent a very long time laughing about all the health incidents, my funny hallucination moments, a gross catheter adventure, stinky rooms and so many other stories. We have found gallows humour as a tool to get through much of the grind and it works like a charm. It freaks out others but when it was just the four of us it was pure and open and important as part of the present and future grieving process.
We even talked about how many times we figured I was at deaths door and rejoiced that it hadn’t happened. We joked that I was a unicorn and continued to defy the odds.
I know many reading this will think that these conversations are wrong, morbid, and depressing. Many may feel that I should protect my kids from all matters or discussions of the cancer and death.
Alas Tracey and I have chosen a different path. A path where the four of us are on the journey together. We believe that open and ongoing communications prepare each of us for the possibility of death through this disease.
This openness is a gift.
Hopefully a gift that keeps on giving.