Dear Cancer

Dear Cancer

You stole my father on the twelfth of July 2005. Just three weeks after his first grandchild was born. Since then, he’s got two more beautiful girls.

And now, nearly five years later, you’re stealing my mother.

I don’t think you’ve quite met my family yet. You can steal our blood, our inhalations, our health, our wealth. But, you forgot, you cannot steal our spirit. You cannot steal our faith. You cannot steal the real beings we are.

You see, Cancer, you’re not the first thing that’s tried to break us. Trust me. Have you read my mother’s book? You’re not the first entity that’s tried to eat away at the fibre that holds us together. You’re not the first to threaten our lives. You’re most definitely not the first to try and scare us.

You see, my dad. My beloved, affectionately known as Dadadad. They tried to get him once, twice, a few times. He challenged them and he said “thanks for the extra hour”. Heh. Funny thing is, even when you came to get him, he got that extra hour, when he got to sit next to me whilst I was in labour, and again when he peered over my shoulder to look into the eyes of his first grandchild.

You see, my mom. Wow. They tried to steal everything from her. She worked, very hard, to help people who had their lives, their homes, their families stolen from them. And she won. She won through, every time. When you came calling for her the first time,  four years ago, she said “Take it. I don’t need my breast anymore. I have my children already”. You were a little too late for her to even be concerned about your arrival. So, now, you’ve come again. And still, you can’t take her spirit.

You see, my sister. Heh. Life throws it’s labels and tribulations in her way. Numerous times, over and over again. But, I defy you, Cancer, to find anyone with a strength larger than she.

You see, my brother. Heh. Life throws it’s lack of sleep and boxes into which we must all fit to be deemed okay. He scrunches up life’s boxes and he makes his own shape.

You see, me. Heh. When I cannot speak, I write. And when I cannot write, I believe. You cannot stop my faith. You cannot stop me honouring and loving every single day. You cannot stop me writing and I will be okay.

You see, my daughter and her cousins. They’re little, you know. But that does not absolve them of life and it’s always unfair ways.

They’ve been through a lot already. But, this morning, as we’re on the way to school, what are they doing? They’re singing. They’re loving and they’re laughing.

So, dear Cancer. You can do your best, do your worst, whatever. But you cannot break the faith that runs in the blood of everyone who bears a significant resemblance to me. Life’s already tested it, numerous times, and lost. So, if it’s Death you’re bringing, you still won’t steal our strength.