I can’t say I know what it is like to have a chronic
disease. A Fault in our Stars gave me a glimpse of being your diagnosis, living
with it as part of you every day, instead of just having the disease. You aren’t
John with the flu, but Cancer Patient John. The disease came first, while you
as a person came second. People fight for cancer. I know I do. But I’ve never
stopped to think about who the person was behind the diagnosis. The struggle
that has to come with that every day has to be staggering; it’s hard to even
wrap my head around at this point.
I’ve been extremely lucky. I remember being at an event where the speaker asked people who know what cancer is to stand up. All 800+ people stood up. When asked to continue standing if they knew someone who had cancer, maybe 5 people sat down. He then asked for us to continue standing if we had known someone who had passed away from cancer. I was able to sit down… but I was the exception.
What this book really captured to me, though, was the finality of death. This is where I’m not so lucky. I’ve been to more funerals than births. Brothers, grandparents, family members, childhood friends, more. And you find yourself wishing you could reminisce with them afterwards, to tell them how you feel, what you feel. But you can’t. They aren’t there. You want to have just one more laugh, just one more story, just one more look. But you can’t.
You want to just let them know how you felt about them, but you can’t.
It’s one of the things I do as a normal part of my life, to always let people know how awesome they are and what they mean to me. Not just best friends, but people who have impacted my life in a positive way. Someone recently told me that I always saw the best in people and that is exactly what I try to do; it meant a lot to me to hear that. People deserve to get the flowers while they can still smell them. That’s my challenge to those of you still reading: let people know how much they mean to you or how phenomenal they are. You won’t always have that opportunity.
So. If you’re looking for a book that will make you rethink illness, understand death, appreciate love, and impact the way you live your life, I would recommend reading A Fault in our Stars. Truly a phenomenal book.
I’ve been extremely lucky. I remember being at an event where the speaker asked people who know what cancer is to stand up. All 800+ people stood up. When asked to continue standing if they knew someone who had cancer, maybe 5 people sat down. He then asked for us to continue standing if we had known someone who had passed away from cancer. I was able to sit down… but I was the exception.
What this book really captured to me, though, was the finality of death. This is where I’m not so lucky. I’ve been to more funerals than births. Brothers, grandparents, family members, childhood friends, more. And you find yourself wishing you could reminisce with them afterwards, to tell them how you feel, what you feel. But you can’t. They aren’t there. You want to have just one more laugh, just one more story, just one more look. But you can’t.
You want to just let them know how you felt about them, but you can’t.
It’s one of the things I do as a normal part of my life, to always let people know how awesome they are and what they mean to me. Not just best friends, but people who have impacted my life in a positive way. Someone recently told me that I always saw the best in people and that is exactly what I try to do; it meant a lot to me to hear that. People deserve to get the flowers while they can still smell them. That’s my challenge to those of you still reading: let people know how much they mean to you or how phenomenal they are. You won’t always have that opportunity.
So. If you’re looking for a book that will make you rethink illness, understand death, appreciate love, and impact the way you live your life, I would recommend reading A Fault in our Stars. Truly a phenomenal book.
