Today marks the one year anniversary of one of the darkest days in my life. One year ago today, I crumpled into my Dad's chest, tears streaming down my face as he lay in a hospital bed, the doctor had just told us that there was nothing left to try. He stroked my hair, thanking me for being so strong through all of this. I wasn't the strong one, it was him. He lay there, his head pounding, a tumor pushing his right eye out of the socket, and still he had words of comfort for me. I still clearly remember that day, sitting outside the cancer clinic as firetrucks screamed by and the air ambulance was landing, on the phone with Wes, trying to make sense of what we were just told, and asking him how soon he could get a flight here.
Today, we were able to spend time at Aunt Nellie's and Uncle Gerry's house in Carleton Place. They have this great treehouse, that Claire especially loved to play in. I was thankful to be able to spend today here, as it was a particularly tough day, with all the memories floating back. We were able to reminisce from that time, one year ago, and I felt comfort being in the company of my Dad's sister, a female version of him. When I look into her eyes, I see the same love and grace that I saw in my Dad's eyes. And that makes me feel good.
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