It’s a year today since my Dad was diagnosed with stage four (and incurable) cancer, with associated paraneoplastic phenomena. I’ve kept this off social media until now, only alluding to the illness of a close family member. But it has taken its toll this year.
At the time Dad was diagnosed, I didn’t realise it was International Women’s Day. But now that seems to bring added poignancy to the date. In the year that has followed his diagnosis, our family has been through really tough times.
As a daughter, I’ve seen someone I used to regard as a superhero turn frail, the man with whom I ran my first 26.2 miles engaged in another more taxing marathon. He’s still only 69 and that seems spectacularly cruel at such a young age. I’ve seen the person who walked me down the aisle struggle to walk to the kitchen – even if he still insists on making me a coffee any time I visit. I’ve sat next my father, who accompanied me to family court, when I was forced to fight for my own daughter, me holding his hand and reassuring him this time. I’ve seen the individual who encouraged me to chase my dreams, and to fly, have his dreams and flights cruelly stolen from him.
I have seen my Mum become his carer, my Mum face anxiety, learn new terms and treatments and practices she never knew, my Mum a former teacher, now a student of uncertainty. I’ve seen her dreams curtailed too, and I’ve been astounded by the way she has continued to support her family even as she has lacked the support that she needs from services meant to help her.
In this year, my parents have both shown humanity and love and fear and anxiety and vulnerability and strength like never before.
As a mother,I’ve been trying to parent my children too, my daughter aware of her grandfather’s illness, with all the pain that causes in her GCSE year, my son -aged seven- only aware Papa is poorly. Both of them, and my husband, picking up on the anticipatory grief I feel, and my desire to be there as much as I can for them all. As me, continuing the work I love, supporting my family, finding a way to navigate my pain. This week away writing a book on journalism and mental health has helped me with the space I needed.
Our family is in for a rocky ride, but this anniversary day of Dad’s diagnosis, here’s my tribute to a love that keeps us strong, to my parents who have believed in me no matter what, even when I’ve caused them pain and heart ache, who have allowed me to embrace my flaws and vulnerabilities, and have done the same, who brought into the world, allowed me to grow as a girl and become the person I am. There are tough times ahead but I love you and together we are stronger.
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