Part One

I can see him getting excited to hold Chiza once he comes home. I see him at the airport with a big smile, waiting to get his arms around him. He tells him that he’ll have it easy for a while…before the aggravation begins, and he yells, “Get that neck down.” I can see him cheering Aiden, and later Naomi and Chiza on during swim lessons, perhaps spoiling them with Pizza King after the first courageous jump into water. I can see him holding Naomi and treating her like a princess after one of her million a day falls ( he knows she is fake crying…he just wants to baby her). I can see him and me going to Lowes again and again looking for good deals… on things we usually will never need. I see all the family cookouts to come, with a large fire and lots of food. I see all our kids first days of schools, and how he would react, and be excited for them. I see graduations, marriages, kids, holiday get-togethers, and endless amounts of time simply hanging out talking.

I imagine these things. I can picture how they would happen and I so wish for these things. But these things will never happen. At least not with Bud in them.

Cancer sucks. I know many people do not like that word. To be honest, I don’t either, however, I feel it fitting here. There’s no better way to put it. Cancer sucks.

I looked up statistics of cancer, and they are shocking. In America an estimated 1.6 million people in 2014 will be diagnosed with cancer. Almost 600,000 people will die this year from cancer in America. The American cancer society estimates that 50% of every child born today will be diagnosed with cancer at some point in their life. It is currently the second most common reason for death in America; nearly 1 out of 4 Americas will die from Cancer.

Bud is one of these statistics. Many of you reading this probably can relate. With those kinds of numbers it’s not if you will be impacted by cancer, but when.

I miss him. Not only was he my father in law, but he was my dear friend. Never in my life have I felt more heartbroken and devastated. Oddly enough, as you will read in the next parts, I have also never felt more love, joy, peace, grace, justice, and assurance.

It’s been six months, and yet these emotions are still strong and present. This blog will be a difficult blog to piece together. There is so much I want to write out. As Clifford Allyn Aberbathy III says in the underappreciated classic Fig Pudding, “I only know one way to start telling about a year like this. Take a deep breath, begin at the beginning, and push right on through until the end.”IMG_3292