Sinking Deep

When you get told that someone you love so dearly is sick, it can be a tough pill to swallow. So ever since Dad was diagnosed with cancer on 26 May 2022, I’ve been feeling disoriented and left in a daze.

The past few days have been filled with moments of desolation and stifled grief. I find myself overwhelmed with questions, fearful and uncertain of what is ahead. There’s been a lump in my throat that’s not abating. Predominantly, I oscillate between denial and unadulterated devastation that this could happen to Dad.

“It feels like I’m drowning,” I muse. “Everyone’s lives go on while I’m struggling to stay afloat.”

They say it takes a while for the reality of a diagnosis to sink in—if one were to ever get used to the feeling, anyway. There is life before the diagnosis and life after. I’m still reeling from the realization that nothing will ever be the same. Unfortunately, I was never prepared to live a kind of life that meant having a parent be diagnosed with cancer. It’s only been a few days but I already feel suffocated by social media, and seeing how normal people’s lives are: stumbling across stories of nights out, parties, loved ones reuniting, and more. Days have been spent convincing myself to live life normally—work, go to school, interact with others. But I already feel a shift in my life, as if it’s now on a different trajectory. It’s a strange, disconnected feeling and one that feels entirely unique from whatever feeling or emotion I’ve had before.

“My dad has cancer… how dare you live your life?” I ruminate with great demand, “Shouldn’t you be as heartbroken as I am?”

But who am I to assume that the world would stop for Dad just because mine has? I am overwhelmed by irrational anger. It feels alienating and hurtful that everyone could continue to be wrapped up in their own worlds when mine is crumbling. I’ve been asking the question “How do I get over the discomfort of witnessing the normalcy of other people’s lives while it feels like my whole life has been turned upside down?” Admittedly, I don’t have the answer to this question just yet.

I don’t know the intention of this blog other than perhaps, to seek catharsis and to put words and breathe life into the heaviness that has sunk in.

I know the road ahead will be long and tumultuous as Dad begins treatment in a few months’ time. More than grief, I feel extremely blessed that I’m home to be with my parents and to help take care of Dad. I hold on to the thought that there is so much goodness—in others and in God.

I find hope in that.

Please pray for Dad and my family.