Ken Richter recently had to inform his two young sons that he had been diagnosed with stage-3 cancer. This is what happened.
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Telling my boys I have cancer was the most difficult thing I have ever done.
My twelve year old, Kazner, sat upright, shaking his head as if he could unhear what I’d said. His gaze locked onto me, looking for some sign that I might take it all back. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears. My older boy, Boon, simply put his face into his hands and sobbed.
I tried to explain everything about the cancer, but my voice was broken and I couldn’t breathe. There was no holding back on my tears. I said “I’m going to get sick, really sick, but that won’t mean I’m losing. That won’t mean I can’t fight my way back.”
Their mom sat on a chair, an arms distance away, crying openly. We’ve been divorced more than a decade, but we are friends and we do our best to be unified in parenting the boys. I was at her house, a century-old church that we’d renovated together. We all sat together, at my request, circled up using a small couch and two chairs.
Kazner was trying so hard not to cry and to listen to me explain what was happening. My fifteen year old kept his face in his hands, and tears dropped through his fingers to the floor. Seeing this, watching them trying to be strong… because… why? Because men in this country can’t break down and cry?
Why are we like this? How did this come to be? Did I somehow promote this through my actions?
There is nothing wrong with crying, and there is nothing weak in crying.
My boys are beautiful young men with real emotions and real tears.
We’ve cried, and we will cry again as we face the danger of what I’m going up against.
Their tears strengthen me. Your tears strengthen me.
I opened my arms to Kaz and he embraced me immediately. As he sobbed openly in my arms, my sweet Boon wrapped his arms around both of us and we held each other and cried and cried. I extended my hand to their mom’s hand, to comfort and include her, and the minutes seemed to last an eternity. The pain, fear, sorrow, and love of that moment will be with me forever.
About a week later, Kazner hugged me and said “You’re not going to die, Dad.”
He believes in me, in my will, and in my friends who pray, chant, meditate, send daily reikis and good vibes… and he believes in God.
I don’t attend church and have not been affiliated with any church for at least twenty years. At some point in my late twenties, I gave up on organized religion and declared that I was agnostic.
Both of my boys go to occasional church functions with friends who are Baptist, Mormon, Assembly of God, whatever, we don’t discriminate. It’s a small town and these are the options for getting out of the house and being with friends.
I’ve never dissuaded or directed their religious views. Religion is a personal choice, and I don’t believe there is a wrong or right in the matter. I promote kindness, understanding, communication, and love. I don’t care how you get there, just live by that, and you’re going to be living in peace.
Kazner talked to me about the Assembly of God church he’d been going to with a newfound friend. He said he asked them to pray for me, and they’ve prayed for me three times now.
Kazner is not a kid who shares his feelings or emotions… ever. He bottles everything up tight and puts a cork all the way in. I listened intently, and then I thanked him and told him how good this made me feel. I watched a happy expression lift on his face and I knew he was proud.
That evening, in bed, I shed tears thinking about how these prayers give Kaz hope. Thinking about how he courageously made himself vulnerable and opened up to a loving community of church-goers so that he could have an avenue to help me.
Twelve year old boys don’t have a lot of options. This twelve year old took the initiative. Kaz is afraid I am going to die, and so he’s getting on his bike and riding a mile across town to take the only action he can think of to help me heal.
My fear of dying is largely focused around not being here to continue guiding and shaping my boys into young men. I’m not one to consider the afterlife; I think about here and now. I think about the future and what it will mean to these boys if I’m not here for them. It may be that the following months will show that I’ve already put the foundation in place. That these boys are ready to step up and care for me, and make the choices that keep them healthy and empathetic. More than anything, I want them to be kind, gentle, thoughtful, respectful, playful… I want them to be good men.
I just read this again. I can’t believe you are gone. Love you so much. Miss you so much.
I have no doubt your sons will grow up to be good men. I want to be a better person just by seeing how you live and the strength and positivity you exude.
“I think about the future and what it will mean to them if I am not here for them…”
This is so heartbreaking…before my surgeries, the same thoughts went through my head…
Leia,
This must be relatable for many people. People are strong and courageous and amazing. I’m sorry for anyone who has to face this for any reason. Thanks for commenting,
Ken
Hi Ken,
I’m your 2nd? cousin. I have two of your cd’s. Love them. Your information that you gave your sons and how you did it was beautiful. I have my own prayer list and have added you onto it. I do wish you healing prayers and that you fight and win this battle. A girl friend of mine just won. I pray that you win as well.
Peace.
Lori
Hi Lori,
Thanks so much. I really appreciate your support. I know you by name, but seems my mom’s side of the family cousins never got properly introduced. 🙁
I plan to be around a while, so perhaps this can be changed in future 🙂
-ken
Ken, Just read your post above. Losing a child or not being there to protect and nurture them are my greatest fears. I’ve had nightmares and real life moments of panic with both scenarios. What a hard place you all are at right now. But as I have said before I know you are doing all you can to pull yourself and your family through this intact. I admire you and hope for you all. There is something you wrote in your blog that I wish everyone believed/promoted throughout the world. Crying, sadly or happily, is not a weakness, not… Read more »
Thank you Joseph. I wish I was better at showing emotion to my boys. It’s a work in progress. This cancer has really opened us all up more than ever. I know so many men and women who hold in their emotion, and that pain finds a way out. The most healthy natural way to release your emotion is not to fight it… let it out. Learn to express your feelings, all of them. It’s OK to cry, be angry, frustrated… the trick is to find a healthy and honest approach to letting these emotions out so they don’t find… Read more »