Making a Difference for the People We Love

 When I was younger, I’d wonder if my life truly mattered, but then I’d stop worrying and think, “I still have time. Maybe I’ll do something to make my family proud next year. Then my life will matter.” Although my husband and kids have been proud over various accomplishments, it never seemed to be enough for me. My brother is a mechanical engineer who’s even worked at Harvard. My sister is a chemist. My parents are both equally impressive, and I… Well, I’m not. The greatest thing I’ve done is simply raise my kids and try being kind to the people around me. That doesn’t look amazing on a resume though, and searching for significance, it seemed subpar—especially after doctors told me I’d die from cancer.

Now the cancer is getting even worse in my spine, and (to fight it) we’ll start a new treatment regime on July 25. This specific regime put me into liver failure before, and it would be easy to feel scared and think death is looming closer. What if I go into liver failure again, but this time I die? These are real possibilities, and they can happen far too quickly. Just because I try to see the good, that doesn’t mean there aren’t hard days. Sometimes CHOOSING joy takes work.

“Mike?” I asked my husband. “You’ve done so many incredible things in your life. Are there ever times when even you wonder if your life has mattered?”

He appeared surprised. “I haven’t done so many incredible things.” He chuckled and smiled at me with so much love. “Only you and the kids think that.” Then my humble man paused, deep in thought. “I bet almost everyone questions if they’ve mattered—at least at one time or another—but I think a better thing to ask is if you’ve made a difference for the people around you.” He stopped what he’d been doing and wrapped his arms around me. “You matter to me. You matter to the kids. Elisa, you matter so much more than you might realize.”

“Mike, you’re the most wonderful man.” And I stayed in his arms for the longest time just hoping he knows how much I appreciate everything about him.

The next day, I cried pretty hard and told myself I’m somehow strong enough for all this crap. G-d doesn’t give us what we can’t handle, so G-d must think I’m a bad*ass. I was in the middle of this ugly-cry fest when my phone rang, and it was one of the two people I what to make really proud: my dad!

“Elisa,” he said, “I got a book at a lending library. I’ve been reading it every day, little by little. It’s pretty hilarious—about medical humor.” He described a couple of stories in the anthology and broke out laughing at one point. “Anyway, I turned the page today, and there you were! A story by ‘EC Stilson.’ I didn’t know you were published in a book like this.”

My dad lives in Arizona, and both of us could hardly believe this turn of events. “I was so shocked. I had to call your mom into the room. It shows what a small world we live in. There you are in Idaho, and I found a book you’re in all the way in Arizona.” 

“And the publishing company is owned by a man from Japan!” We laughed because it really was from around the world.

Then my stoic dad, who rarely talks about his emotions, actually told me how proud he is of my writing AND how I’ve handled cancer. He got a little choked up at that point, saying how grateful he is for the memories we have together and that he always feels so loved when I’m around. That final part meant more than anything else he could’ve said.

My outlook seems so different now that we had this conversation that I’ve needed since I was a little girl: My dad is actually proud… But more than that, I make him feel valued and loved. I make my dad feel like a better person when I’m around. That is a pretty astounding compliment. Mike was right, asking if we’ve made a difference for the people around us is a good question—something I want to start asking myself each day. That makes me feel like I have mattered because I matter to the people I love the most.

(Pic above: Me and my dad)

Who knew an anthology I got published in over a decade ago would help facilitate a talk I’ve needed my whole life. It really put things in perspective and helped me remember why I’ve been fighting so hard to stay alive in the first place. It is strange how our lives end up and how experiences come around one way or another. 

Doctors never expected me to live this long, but I’m so grateful to still be here. I can’t imagine missing out on all of these incredible moments, like this life-changing conversation I had with my dad. Somehow I think maybe he needed it too.