For Wilshire Baptist Church
I recently ran the gauntlet of three family anniversaries that fall within three weeks of each other: my father’s death, my marriage to LeAnn, and the death of my first wife Debra. The first was fresh — just one year. The others were more distant: 12 and 15 years, respectively. All have weight and meaning, especially now as I experience them through the prism of my own illness.
Let me be clear: I believe I have cancer on the run. Even so, I know something’s gonna get me someday. It could be another illness or a totally unexpected calamity. It could happen sooner or later. There’s been more than one time driving to and from chemo or radiation when another motorist has done something risky near me and I’ve thought, “Wouldn’t it be ironic to beat cancer but get taken out in a traffic accident?” Or while taking a therapeutic walk at our large city park where we’ve found shell casings on the ground, I’ve thought about getting hit in some kind of random crossfire. After all, these things happen in our world every day.
But you can’t really live that way — worrying about all the potential dangers out there. Well, actually you can, but you’re not really living, are you? You can sequester yourself inside your home and eliminate many of the potential risks. You’re alive in a biological sense in that you have a pulse and brain waves and you’re breathing, but you aren’t experiencing life, hard as it may be.
Which takes me back to the three anniversaries, listed out of order for the sake of context:
July 9, 2022. Dad lived the best he could as long as he could. Just nine years ago this week we took him to France for his 80th birthday where he enjoyed seeing the great landmarks of the City of Lights, Monet’s Garden at Giverny and especially the locales of the Normandy Invasion that stirred his imagination when he was a boy of 10. His physical capabilities and mental sharpness had diminished in recent years, but his faith, hope and love for his God, country and family were fully intact until the end. I want to end that way too.
July 31, 2008. Debra pushed herself through a cancer diagnosis, surgeries and treatments and kept getting up and going to work, church and family events all the way until her last week. Her example is the model for how I’ve tried to handle my own diagnosis and treatment — especially now that I know how she actually felt on days when she was out and about with a smile on her face. What looked like a rally to me was more of a stubborn act of retaliation against the disease and treatments.
July 10, 2011. LeAnn has been a much better caregiver for me than I was for Debra, and she has set the bar high on how I want to respond to others on this journey when I get a chance. She’s been tuned in and on board for every consultation and almost every treatment. She’s been attentive to my physical needs as well as my mental and emotional needs; she’s given me space to rest or run hard as I’ve needed or wanted to. God had a good plan when our lives were bound together on that hot summer evening at Wilshire.
Anniversaries, even the hard ones, shouldn’t be glossed over or pushed aside. They should be embraced for their life lessons and glimpses of God’s love and mercy. And this is no small thing: Remembering our loved ones on these anniversaries helps keep them close in our hearts.