Miracles
On October 11, 2011, my beloved father was hospitalized with complications from Stage 4 pancreatic cancer in what would become the beginning of the end.
Exactly 7 weeks later he would take his last breath.
My father’s death was deeply traumatic and painful for me.
I had given birth to his first grandson in December 2010, and we were all settling into a dynamic we thought would last years before he was diagnosed in September 2011.
His diagnosis, decline and death were cruel.
In the years that have elapsed since losing my father, I have had to find the gifts amidst the grief.
I could easily become consumed with sadness and rage at my father’s premature, painful and unfair death.
To do so, however, would be to lose sight of all of the light and joy that remain in my life — and in the world.
I thought of this yesterday at my son’s first High School Interview.
My husband and I were also interviewed.
When asked what our favorite quality of our son’s is, both my husband and me, without having known what question we would be asked, spoke about our son’s compassion.
My husband said he loves our son’s heart and I said I am amazed at how empathic our son has always been.
We both said this has been a quality of his since the beginning — that he seems to be wired this way.
Later on, Facebook reminded me that on October 10, 2011, I had posted about my then not yet 1-year-old spontaneously sharing with others.
There was the kindness, empathy and compassion my husband and I spoke of 13 years later.
It felt miraculous to me.
It is a miracle that my husband I met — having grown up in different parts of the country with very different lived experiences — and that together we created our son, an individual with so much love in his heart.
After the Interview yesterday, I called my 78-year-old mother to fill her in on the details.
My father has been gone for almost 13 years, but my beloved mother is still here and to witness her relationship with my son is one of my greatest sources of awe and gratitude.
That, too, felt miraculous to me.
Seeing my almost 14-year-old son in his first suit, holding his own in an interview, filled me with wonder and emotion.
He already knows who he is and navigates the world with confidence, grace and an open mind.
Having created him, and raising him, will never cease to amaze me.
It feels miraculous.
We are living in such challenging, painful and infuriating times.
Alongside what we may be grappling with personally, we are witnesses every day to violence, hatred and indifference.
It is chilling.
And easy to feel that the world is a dark, callous and unjust place.
But, I refuse to accept that.
I am not callous — and neither is my family.
We care deeply about the choices we make and how we impact others.
We choose to be the change we wish to see in the world.
We choose to acknowledge the miraculous nature of life.
Every day with my family since losing my father — and other loved ones — has felt like a miracle.
There is so much about life and the world that is miraculous.
Relish the miracles — they are present amidst the pain.
