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My Family
 Jason
Mortality. It's a topic most people probably think of in passing. The combination of longevity within my family and no premature loss of close friends made mortality a topic tucked inside the newspaper, reported on news broadcasts, or simply a word in passing conversation. It previously flitted through my mind occasionally during church while contemplating if I was truly following the good word and where my life was ultimately leading. The mortality fact slapped me in the head upon learning of my mother's breast cancer.
The foundation carefully laid during childhood of parents as an indestructible resource to turn for comfort, advice, care, and security suddenly twisted in the wind of questions that ensued. The crash course in mastectomies, positive lymph nodes, and chemotherapy is something for which no one can truly prepare. No matter how caring and explanatory the medical profession can be informing a patient, it can never satiate the unending stream of questions that pop into your head at the dinner table, driving in the car, and lying in bed at night. They are questions the family is not initially able to answer. You do not know if the questions you wish to ask will be helpful in bringing the disease to light or highlight the unspoken fears you know are now battling the hope in everyone's hearts. The illusion of control in one's life disappears. Individually, however, I finally fully accepted that the only things I truly had to offer were the most important: love and prayer. I let my mother dictate through her words and emotions what type of support she needed. Whether it was holding her hand, telling her about my studies, or simply listening, I tried to respond to whatever cues she and my family provided. Our family bonds strengthened as we lent each other support while forced to acknowledge our own and each other's mortality. It is ironic how a serious illness often times highlights what is truly important and special in one's life.
As more time passes since the diagnosis, treatment, and defeat of the disease inside my mother's body, I have gained more information, through snippets of conversation, on how the cancer affected my parents and sisters. Learning through my parents and sisters their fear of loss during that painful chapter has deepened my love, respect, and wonder of them as individuals. As the imminence of the disease fades, we have been blessed with the opportunity to explore and share how this brush with mortality changed each of us.
 Whenever seven days pass where I have not spoken to my parents or sisters, a void within develops in recognition of the complacency at letting my relationships with them fall out of date. The outside world's urgencies slowly demand more time, the mortality issue is pushed further back in the closet, and the danger of worrying over "pre-cancer" issues reasserts itself. Ironically, it is through the questions of others referencing my mother's health and her biannual requests for prayer the night prior to check-ups which oftentimes remind me of my own mortality and to truly enjoy the gifts who are my parents, sisters, and own wife and sons.
- Jason
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