What Real Gratitude Feels Like


Warning: this is NOT a funny post. It’s about a real life event unfolding as we speak and I felt the need to write about it.

Today, I felt genuine gratitude. I need to explain, otherwise you guys will think I’m a complete ass hole. I am always grateful. Grateful when someone let’s me pull in front of them. I’m grateful when someone holds the door for me. And I’m grateful to have a roof over my childrens’ heads. Stuff like that, I am, for lack of a better word, normal grateful.

This feeling of deep, hard-core gratefulness came due to an unfortunate circumstance and God I wish this wasn’t happening.


“Mom, Cece won’t be in school for the rest of the week. Her brother has cancer,” C, my 9-year-old said.

“Oh no, that’s terrible!” I responded. “I’m so sorry to hear this. I do hope he gets better.” I said, genuinely sad for this little girl and her big brother.


“Mom, you know Will Nguyen, right?” My 12-year-old asked as we put away the weekly groceries.

“Oh yeah. He was in your class a few years ago. You still friends with him?”‘


“Well that’s good. I remember him. He’s a good kid.”

“Well, he isn’t going to be in school for the rest of the year. He’s been diagnosed with leukemia.”

“What?” I asked shocked. When you hear a record come to a screeching halt, that is what I heard in my head. I looked at him in disbelief.

“You gotta be freaking kidding me!” I announced. “My God, I am so sorry about this. That poor kid.


Parkers Text

I received this text at work. P had just gotten home from school and sent it to me. I guess this is when it hit me. A little boy in my son’s class has been diagnosed with leukemia. How did I get so lucky not to have my son diagnosed? I mean, fate could have stood at the front of the class and pointed at all the boys, while chanting “eenie, meanie, miny, mo…..” and it could have been my son. The pain his parents must be feeling tonight, must be unimaginable. I would probably loose my shit, mentally.

I’ll be honest, I’ve become numb when I see St. Jude’s  or Shriner’s hospital commercials. I feel almost nothing when I see them and that’s terrible. I feel like an ass hole because it took something like this to realize how God damn lucky I am.

For the first time, all my complaining and whining about stuff is just that- stuff. How can I even worry about a late trash bill or not having 15 presents for each child instead of 12 under the Christmas tree, when I know my son’s friend is sleeping in a hospital bed at Children’s hospital.

I’ll leave you with this- for the first time in I can’t remember how long, I prayed to God on my drive home this evening. I thanked him for my children’s health. I told him I am extremely grateful for my son’s and to take care of William. This blows.









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