"I'm Sorry"

It's the first thing anyone says when I tell them my dad passed away. And I totally understand. It's the first thing I say when people tell me something devastating about their lives. But even if you really mean it, if you're truly sorry for their loss, just remember that it doesn't actually make anything better.

When I tell people about my dad, they suddenly treat me differently (even if it's only for a few moments). That was probably the thing I was most nervous about coming to college. I didn't want to be talking to someone new, have my dad be brought up somehow, and have that conversation screech to a halt as they began to pity me.

I appreciate your sympathy, and I'm not asking you to not say "I'm sorry", but know that it's okay if you ask questions. I don't mind talking about my dad. In fact, it helps. So don't be afraid to ask.

"Found Memories"

I recently watched the Argentinian film “Found Memories”. This movie documents the lives of many people in the village of Jotuomba, but focuses on Antonio and Madalena—elderly bread-makers—and Rita, a young photographer. Rita helps them document their daily routine: make bread, go to church, pray, eat dinner, play games. Along the way, they develop relationships and recognize special memories.

At first, I had some trouble connecting to this movie. I didn’t really feel like there was a lesson I could learn from it. After some thought, I realized that there are many lessons that I can draw from “Found Memories”.

Sometimes at college, it seems like our lives are changing so fast. One week, you’re passing a class; the next, you bombed a midterm. One week, you’re surrounded by strangers; the next, you have new friends. After a while, though, life can seem kind of monotonous. Day after day, we go to the same classes, interact with many of the same people, eat the same Rice-a-Roni. It can be easy to fall into a routine and forgot all of the experiences we’re having.

While my mom and I were driving to Brigham Young University so that I could start my freshman year, she reminded and advised me to take as many pictures as possible. I’ve never been a photographer by any means, but I did attempt to post a picture to Facebook every day that I was 16 (I failed). Despite this, I have heeded my mother’s advice and have begun to document my life here at this university.

Documenting my life through pictures allows me to hang on to the memories I’m making and keep them from fading. In the future, I will be able to look back at these photographs and remember what it’s like to be young, just as “Found Memories” explains.

Hair Loss

Today in one of my classes, I noticed a friend looked different and asked him if he got a haircut. He replied, "No, I have cancer." I understand that in our society, making comments like this is no big deal and that it would be very hard for me to change the way people speak. However, his words brought back memories of my dad's increasingly thinning hair. I believe that one way to decrease the use of such phrases is to educate yourself on the effects of cancer.

Many people sincerely believe that cancer itself causes hair to fall out. Chemotherapy is the actual cause of hair loss, and it does not occur for everyone. The chemotherapy drugs attack cancer cells, but they also attack other rapidly growing cells, including those in hair roots.

To combat the negative effects hair loss has on self-esteem, many different companies and organizations offer hats and wigs to cancer patients who have experienced it. I remember my dad coming home from treatment with new hats to cover his bald patches and to keep him warm.

Locks of Love is a popular organization that collects human hair donations to make wigs for cancer patients. I have donated 11 inches of my hair to this cause twice.

This website provides more information on chemotherapy, hair loss, and solutions for cancer patients.

Before you joke about losing your hair due to cancer, know how hair loss occurs and think of the effects you may have on those around you.

I Hope You Dance

So this isn't about my dad and it's not about cancer. This is to show what other kinds of crises families may face.

When I was 11, my aunt committed suicide. Just a few years earlier, she sent me a book to accompany a CD of the Lee Ann Womack song, "I Hope You Dance". After her death, I used this song and this book to help remind me of her and to motivate myself. Listen to the song and ponder the words. It's a life-changer.

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted,
GOD forbid love ever leave you empty handed,
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance....I hope you dance.

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin',
Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth makin',
Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,
When you come close to sellin' out reconsider,
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance....I hope you dance.
I hope you dance....I hope you dance.
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone.)

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

Dance....I hope you dance.
I hope you dance....I hope you dance.
I hope you dance....I hope you dance..
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along
Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone)

What Happens When I Die?

I found this great video explaining what I believe happens after we die. It explains this belief well and helps me to keep the perspective that death is not the end. I think as many people as possible should watch this video. We all lose people and we all need this reminder sometimes.

Camp Kesem

During my first week on campus, I attended a service fair highlighting the opportunities to serve on and around campus. One that caught my eye was Camp Kesem, "a college student run summer camp for kids with a parent who has (or has had) cancer". It is one week long and is a growing national movement.

I know something like Camp Kesem isn't an option for everyone, but I believe that the children who have the privilege to attend will have life-changing experiences. I hope to someday be able to serve at the camp. I believe that sharing my experience with children will not only assist them, but will help me to grow as well.

My Story

I feel like I can't rightfully continue this project until I've shared with you all my story. So here it is.

(Lots of Mormon words in here. I've tried to put links to help those of you who don't know what everything means, but talk to me if you have any questions!)

These are my parents at their wedding. Total cuties, right?

Like you already know (whether from my previous post or from life), my dad was diagnosed with stage four colorectal cancer in the summer of 2009, right before I started my freshman year of high school. For those of you who don't know very much about medicine, cancer found at stage four has been caught very late. From the diagnosis, we knew the prognosis: my dad was going to die.

The next two and half years led to frequent trips to the hospital. I often found myself driving from school to dance practice to Providence Saint Peter Hospital and riding the elevator up to the cancer floor. I knew the nurses by name, but had difficulty remember which doctor did what.

And now for the part that most of you don't know: on December 18, 2011, my dad died. I didn't know people didn't know about this part of my life until graduation, but it made sense. I had never been public about it. I never posted any Facebook statuses saying "Miss you, Dad." And so now I'm coming clean.

Speaking of "clean", my dad's battle and passing allowed me to use the Atonement more than I ever had before. Jesus Christ did not suffer only for our sins, but also for any negative feelings or hardships or temptations we've ever had.

My dad and I always had trouble getting along; we both had very headstrong personalities. My last two and a half years with him found me constantly asking my Heavenly Father for help in repairing our relationship. I know this helped to develop a connection between both my physical father and my spirit Father and me.

On the night of his death, I was too tired to go out to the living room to be with him in his final moments. For a long time, I had trouble forgiving myself for this. This turned out to be another opportunity to use the Atonement to forgive myself.

My dad also wasn't a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the time of his death. My mom, brother, and I are now preparing to enter the temple to do his work.

As you can probably tell from this very long post, my way of coping with the loss of my father was through the gospel of Jesus Christ. Through my project, I want to examine how others have dealt with the hardships they have faced within their families and help more people have hope.

Some super cute pictures of my family: