Gratitude in the Shadow of Cancer
Life has a way of slowing you down when you least expect it.
This week, my dad received a diagnosis of aggressive prostate cancer—a nine on the Gleason scale.
At 82 years of age, the focus now is on management rather than treatment.
Tomorrow, he comes home from the hospital, and as I sit here reflecting, I find myself circling back to one thing: gratitude.
Not the shiny, Instagram-worthy kind of gratitude, but the real, raw kind—the kind that makes you stop in the middle of life’s chaos and see the threads of connection and meaning, even when they’re tangled.
A Complicated Relationship, A Chance to Reconnect
To say my relationship with my dad has been challenging is an understatement (see previous blog post). It’s been complicated, messy, and, at times, distant. Yet, here I am, unexpectedly back in Melbourne after years of nomadic living, finding myself stepping into the role of his support person.
This wasn’t part of the plan. I hadn’t lived here in over 12 years, I was simply visiting in between Europe adventures, but the universe had other ideas. And now, in this moment of uncertainty, I’m grateful to be here for him.
There’s a quiet beauty in spending this time together, even if it’s under difficult circumstances. It’s not about fixing what was broken or pretending things were different; it’s about being present and showing up.
In these past weeks, I’ve had the opportunity to see my dad in a different light. Our relationship has been complicated over the years, but now we’ve had moments to connect and even learn about each other in new ways.
Being surrounded by the history of our family—photos, paintings, letters—it’s like I’ve stepped into a time capsule. I’ve been poring over old photos of relatives I’ve never met, uncovering pieces of their lives. One letter stood out—a German letter on Ostende Palace Hotel letterhead, where my great-grandfather was stationed during WWI and ultimately lost his life.
These relics of the past are grounding me in the present. Life feels fragile, fleeting, and, in the same breath, immensely full.
Sibling Bonds in Vienna (interesting year!)
Earlier this year, I spent about two months in total living with my brother and his family on the outskirts of Vienna. For most of our lives, we’ve only had brief moments together—a few weeks here and there—so this time was a big deal.
It was an opportunity to truly get to know one another as siblings for the first time, not just in fleeting moments but in the day-to-day rhythms of life. We attempted cooking meals together, shared laughs, got drunk, navigated disagreements, and learned what it meant to simply be siblings.
At times, we got on each other’s nerves, and I found myself thinking, How beautiful it is to have the chance to annoy each other. That sounds strange, but it’s true. For years, we didn’t have the kind of relationship where that was even possible.
By the end of those two months, we had built a deeper connection, one that made me truly understand the value of shared history and the bonds we get to choose to nurture. It reminded me how much richness exists in the messy, beautiful layers of family.
Cancer and the Lessons of Mortality
But back here with Dad, his pragmatic wisdom echoes in my head:
"We all have an expiry date—it’s just hidden at the back of your neck so you don’t see it."
It’s blunt, but it’s true. And oddly enough, it brings a strange kind of peace. If we didn’t know life had an end, would we cherish it as much? Would we take the time to notice the small, fleeting joys?
His diagnosis has forced me to think about my own life, my choices, and the balance between being here for him and continuing my own journey. It’s a lot to process, and honestly, some days feel heavier than others.
And yet, gratitude keeps showing up.
Gratitude as a Lifeline
Gratitude doesn’t erase pain or make everything magically okay, but it gives us a way to hold onto what’s still good... and draw in more 'good'.
I’m grateful for the chance to spend this time with Dad, even if it’s not always easy. I’m grateful for the stories these old photos and letters are telling me. I’m grateful for the time I shared with my brother in Vienna, building a relationship that felt like a gift long overdue.
So with the presence of all of that... I wanted to share with you a few ways I’ve been leaning into gratitude that might also resonate with you:
Keep a journal: Each night, jot down 3-10 things you’re grateful for. They don’t have to be profound—the pillow you rest your head on, the smell of coffee, or the kindness of a stranger are all valid.
Take a moment to pause: When things feel overwhelming, pause and name one thing you’re thankful for in that moment. Or literally smell the roses!
Reflect on the ordinary: Gratitude isn’t always about big, life-changing events. Often, it’s found in the small, ordinary moments we tend to overlook whilst we jump to the next thing on the To-Do list.
Embracing All of It
Life is messy, complicated, and unpredictable. It’s also breathtaking, tender, and full of wonder. I’m learning to embrace all of it—the hard, the beautiful, and the spaces in between.
Dad’s diagnosis has reminded me of how fragile life is, but also how beautiful it can be when we embrace it fully. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m grateful for this time—for the chance to support him, to reconnect, to reflect.
I honestly believe life’s expiry date makes it all the more meaningful. If we didn’t have an end, would we really savor the moments we’re given?
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
If you’re looking to deepen your own gratitude practice, I encourage you to start small.
A journal. A moment of reflection. A simple pause to say, “thank you.”
And if you need a little inspiration, here’s a video on gratitude (just 4 minutes). I always go back to these videos and play them at our retreats.
Life is messy, beautiful, heartbreaking, and miraculous. And for all of it, I am grateful.
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