There are some days in your life you never forget. Your first day at school perhaps. Or college or university. The day you went travelling. Or waved off a loved one. The day you bought your house. Your own wedding. The weddings of your siblings, close friends, perhaps your own parents. The day you fulfilled a dream. The days you had your babies. The days your important people had their babies. The day someone died. The day someone survived. Perhaps the day you survived.
In the past year I’ve had a few days I will never forget. Special days. Some good. Some bad. Three of these different days contain one person’s life.
The day my door was knocked on.
Early evening. In came my friend. I will never forget her face. Before she’d even spoken. Shock. Wide eyed. Scared. I knew it was a day her life would change before she spoke. Then she did, her father diagnosed with a brain tumour. Her face showed her heart. Fear. For the unknown. And fear for what was to come, the knowledge of what was to come. When someone you love is showing pure pain on their face it is something you never forget.
The day the gate was opened
And into my garden stumbled my friend. Summer sun. With a babble. A rush. Good news and bad news she said. 12-18 months. Inoperable. Chemo. Radiotherapy. But a marriage to be planned. Something I’d nagged at for years. Bittersweet. And the honour of being part of the wedding party. A humbling feeling. The same face. Of a daughter, loosing her Daddy.
A special wedding. Of friends.
And now we need to make another day. The day that shows you can survive. The day that all odds can be beaten. The day that shows positivity pays off.
Her Dad is walking. Nearly 12 months on.
We want other Dads to be in this position too. Or, if they can, be cured.
Give generously. It could happen to you.
Photo by Summer Lily studio