I believe in purpose. Even the most difficult situations have a reason for existence. When I was 22, I got a phone call from my Mom telling me that my Dad had been diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer. My only thought was why him? My Dad lived a healthy life, so of all the people in the world, how did HE get colon cancer? The prognosis was initially poor. One oncologist gave him two months to live, another gave him three months, and another gave him a maximum of six months to live. He was taken in immediately for surgery and within a week had started his first round of chemotherapy. One month went by, then two, then three…and soon we began to feel that maybe he could beat this thing. After one year of treatment, more than one million tumors had been disintegrated into just one tiny malignant tumor. Our prayers had finally been answered and we felt that life would soon return to normal. The doctors requested that my Dad come in every three months for a CT scan to check the growth of the one remaining tumor. Twelve months went by and then I got another phone call. His CT scan had displayed millions of tiny tumors that had somehow multiplied and metastasized in three months. It was then that I heard the dreaded words of “There is nothing else we can do.” Less than four weeks later, my Dad passed away. I spent days and nights asking God why him? What was the purpose of taking away such a good man? I wrote my Dad letters so that I could tell him everything that was going on in my head. It helped me get through the times when I didn’t feel like I had any hope left. Somehow I felt as if I was having a conversation with him, except that I wasn’t getting any replies. The last letter I wrote to him I told him how much I loved him and how I wished that we had more of an opportunity to grow together as a father and daughter. I told him how much I needed someone in my life to take care of me and that I was afraid of being alone. After my Dad’s funeral, I came in touch with a friend who I had lost contact with several years before. She had found my number and called to send her condolences. Looking back, if my Dad had not passed away, I probably would not have rekindled this friendship – and if I hadn’t rekindled that friendship, I would not have met my husband three months later, as she was the one who introduced the two of us. As difficult as losing my father was for me, I have to believe that there was a purpose. While I had lost one great person in my life, I ended up gaining two more as a result.
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