Cancer changes the dynamics of how families relate to each other. Adult children are confused, scared, lonely, and they feel guilty and sometimes they even blame themselves. They feel angry at the world and angry at the parent. They miss the quality time they had with their parent when everything was normal. They're afraid they'll never have those times again. They cannot even talk about the cancer with their parent because it may be too awkward and sad for them. It doesn't matter what age the "children" are. My son is 30, and he's very depressed and anxious. Sometimes he is tenderhearted when he expresses his fears. Other times, the entire ordeal overwhelms him so much, it's like a boa constrictor is strangling the life out of him. He loses his temper for no justifiable reason. The more we try to defuse the emotional bomb, the closer we come to blowing ourselves up. Unkind words echo in the room long after apologies have been accepted. When we're left alone, we must wonder to ourselves is this anger because of yet another crisis we must cope with, or is it coming from the deep abyss of unresolved issues, those old wounds too unspeakable for the other to hear?
We have survived decades of wreckage, miraculously salvaged by the kindness of the Lord who roams around the junkyards of our hearts, picking up the scraps, and masterfully piecing them together, making some sense out of our pathetic lives.
Last night we had one of the most difficult and emotionally painful arguments, the kind that even the happiest of families engage in. It evolved into a heartbreaking revelation about our lives. After a couple of hours, we were both too exhausted to continue. For a few awkward moments, I lingered by his computer, and then he came over and started to show me something interesting. Within a few minutes, we were talking, and before I went upstairs, we were laughing.
Thank you, Lord, for reminding us. "Be angry, and yet do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger." (Ephesians 4:26)
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