Speech Attempt #2

Not too long ago, our little boy rang the bell to signal the end of his treatment for leukemia. Not too long after that, we had a really big party in our yard to celebrate and say thank you to all of the friends and family members who helped us throughout the treatment process. We ordered a ton of Portillos (potentially too much Portillos – I think the beef au jus was leaking out of my pores at one point) and cupcakes and did our best to say thank you and talk to every person who came.

We brought everyone together to give a little speech partway through the party, but my mind went completely blank after I started talking. I had even made some notes of what I wanted to say, but all previously recorded thoughts disappeared as soon as I stood on the edge of the fire pit, looking at the hundred or so people standing around our backyard. I’m not afraid of speaking publicly; I’m just not all that good at it. So here’s what I really wanted to say to every person who helped us in the last 2 and a half years:

“We wanted to be intentional about this party because yes, it is a time to celebrate Little Man and his achievement in finishing his cancer treatment, but we especially want to say thank you to all of you for getting behind us through the whole ordeal. You all are the greatest community of friends and family that we could’ve ever asked for. You brought us meals and groceries. You sent the boys toys and cards. You let me angrily rant on the phone about the unfairness of the universe and how we’re all just little nothings in this mess of cosmic chaos. More than one person heard that particular rant, actually. And you came and talked to us about normal things for a while so we could have an hour of escape here and there. Thank you for listening and making hospital go-bags and never letting us forget that you were there and we weren’t alone.

“A huge thank you goes to all of our parents, our boys’ grandparents, because we literally would’ve fallen apart without their constant support. We also send the biggest thank you possible to the doctors who saved our boy and talked to us like real people, answering our stressed and/or panicked questions, texts and emails with patience and calm confidence.

[Now this part would’ve been super cheesy, and I would’ve had a hard time saying it out loud, but I mean it all. Feelings are easier when they’re written down.] “Please take a look at the other people who are here at this party today. You now are linked to one another through your own willingness to be good and kind to our family when we were in need. You are part of a community of healers, listeners, and nurturers. If we could all see ourselves like that and try to bring more people into our communities, maybe we could have an even bigger impact in this world. You all have given me hope, not only in the goodness of people in the face of difficult circumstances, but also in the ability for people to use their own strengths to strengthen a community as a whole.”

Going through cancer treatment for our little boy has changed me on a fundamental level. While I’ll never say it was worth it or wish this on anyone else, I’ll take the good that can come from bad experiences. I learned that we have a community that proved itself over and over, and being loved and cared for by a group of people from all eras and corners of one’s life changes a person too.