Telling the Grandchildren

There are moments in life that divide everything into before and after. And a few months ago the day I found out I had Prostate Cancer was one of those moments. I remember sitting in the doctor’s office, trying to listen to every word, but feeling like the world had suddenly gone quiet. I heard the diagnosis, but at the same time, everything inside me went still. I wasn’t afraid of the word cancer itself — I was afraid of what it might mean for the people I love.

I knew telling my daughters would be difficult. They are strong women, resilient and sharp, but they’re still my babies. No matter how grown they are, I’m still their father. And fathers never want to be the source of worry, fear, or pain. When I spoke the words out loud to them for the first time, I could hear the shock in their silence. I watched them swallow tears they didn’t want me to see. They tried to be brave for me. And I tried to be brave for them.

But what I wasn’t prepared for was telling my older grandchildren.   

There’s something about grandchildren — they still see the world with a softness as new young adults. They believe in possibility. They trust that I will be here tomorrow. When I sat with them and explained what was happening, I watched their faces change, trying to process something that felt bigger than them. I watched them sit up straighter, hold their breath, blink faster than usual. They wanted to be strong for me. They didn’t want to cry — not in front of their grandpa