I routinely think about Scott Anderson, Carol Howell, Sean Sperry, and Benjamin Szoko. In these last four years, I’ve lost four dear friends. I wasn’t able to attend any of their funerals, fighting my own battle with lymphoma, lymphedema, and immunocompromised health myself.
People speak of “survivor’s guilt.” While Scott and I were still alive, as once cancer combatant to another, we both spoke about it. We both pressed on, but we know the heartache of losing loved ones and dear friends, wondering why we are here and they are not.
Scott was a decade older than me. Sean was four years older than me. Both were far too young to lose their battles to cancer. Carol was a surprise to us, and a heartbreak.
I have no answers. I certainly understand the anger, frustration, and loss. I get why people lash out against survivors or lash out against God for allowing some people to live and others to die. Morality and goodness don’t determine who is spared and who is claimed by cancer.
I hope to honor their memories as best I can. I hope to carry their memories and my loyalty