The Light at the End of the Tunnel
The Light at the end of the Tunnel
Time is a funny thing. One second you’re wishing to get through the day, and the next you are praying for just one more moment. My mom had been sick for years; she had more health problems than anyone I have ever met. When she was down at the hospital in Chicago over Spring Break undergoing a major surgery, my brother and I had high hopes that she would make it through successfully. When we were finally able to visit her on Easter, my parents had some big news for us. As we ventured in I had a sense that something was wrong. My stomach began to twist and turn, but I was able to hold a poker face. As we sat down in the recliners, staring out the window, my dad began to speak. Five minutes went by, then ten, then twenty; and all I can remember was watching my brother as his eyes flooded with tears. My life has never been the same since I heard those three little words, “I have cancer.”
Eventually my father finished telling us the news. The room grew colder as time passed. My mom kept trying to keep up conversation and changed the subject whenever possible. I will never forget the words that came out of her mouth that day, “I know you have both seen the way that cancer effects people, how it burdens families, and how lives change. I’m going to make you a promise right now, I will give 110% to beat this and my optimisim will stay strong. I know I am often very pessimistic, but I will fight for you, your father, and myself. I cannot guarantee that I will survive, but all I can do is fight harder than I’ve ever done before and trust that God will help us through this.” That night my brother and I boarded the train and sat in utter shock over the news. At about 1:30 that morning when we walked through the front door, he broke down almost to a point that I didn’t know what to say or do.
We sat on the couch, and as he vented through his tears and emotions all I could say was, “Everything will be ok.” “How!”,he
Time is a funny thing. One second you’re wishing to get through the day, and the next you are praying for just one more moment. My mom had been sick for years; she had more health problems than anyone I have ever met. When she was down at the hospital in Chicago over Spring Break undergoing a major surgery, my brother and I had high hopes that she would make it through successfully. When we were finally able to visit her on Easter, my parents had some big news for us. As we ventured in I had a sense that something was wrong. My stomach began to twist and turn, but I was able to hold a poker face. As we sat down in the recliners, staring out the window, my dad began to speak. Five minutes went by, then ten, then twenty; and all I can remember was watching my brother as his eyes flooded with tears. My life has never been the same since I heard those three little words, “I have cancer.”
Eventually my father finished telling us the news. The room grew colder as time passed. My mom kept trying to keep up conversation and changed the subject whenever possible. I will never forget the words that came out of her mouth that day, “I know you have both seen the way that cancer effects people, how it burdens families, and how lives change. I’m going to make you a promise right now, I will give 110% to beat this and my optimisim will stay strong. I know I am often very pessimistic, but I will fight for you, your father, and myself. I cannot guarantee that I will survive, but all I can do is fight harder than I’ve ever done before and trust that God will help us through this.” That night my brother and I boarded the train and sat in utter shock over the news. At about 1:30 that morning when we walked through the front door, he broke down almost to a point that I didn’t know what to say or do.
We sat on the couch, and as he vented through his tears and emotions all I could say was, “Everything will be ok.” “How!”,he