In October 2019, when we learned that Mackenzie’s cancer had come back and would ultimately take her, I began to consistently pray for mercy. If you look up the word “mercy” in any given dictionary, there will be multiple definitions given, but most boil down to the idea of giving compassion and benevolence to someone. For those 548 days between hearing her cancer was back and the early morning she found peace, I laid with her every single day and prayed for healing, and that if healing was going to not come here on Earth, for mercy to be given and for Mackenzie to not suffer during her last days and months with us. Two days before she died, I made a few last recordings of Mackenzie talking to me. In her last video, she had this sweet, serene smile on her face, and I ask her what she is smiling about, and she proceeded to tell me she was “…just so thankful.” I continue to replay this video and hang onto these words that our prayers were answered.

On April 8th, 2021, it was clear that Mackenzie was getting ready to go on from here. Late in the afternoon, she began to have agonal breathing, stopping breathing for a couple of minutes with black secretions pouring out her nose and mouth. Pat and I thought each time she was leaving us and would quietly continue to whisper how much we loved her and were grateful to be her parents, and then she would take a big gasp and the rhythmic breathing would begin again. We would gently clean her up and love on her more, and this cycle went repeating itself over and over for about 12 hours. After each episode, I would quietly pray for mercy to be given and for Mackenzie to be comfortable in the knowledge that Pat and I would be okay, so that she could find her own peace and healing. Healing that I so desperately wish we could have given her here on Earth, but couldn’t.

In a few more weeks, though it doesn’t seem possible, it will be one year since Kenz took her final two breaths, and yes, I am still praying for mercy. I pray for mercy for our childhood cancer survivors and that they may only know good health in their future. I pray for mercy for our childhood cancer fighters and that they may be granted full healing and the opportunity to grow into adulthood. But I also pray for mercy for myself and those parents who are grieving the loss of their fighter. Yesterday I sat and talked with another bereaved mom, who shared about her guilt in things she felt she had done “wrong” while her fighter was here on Earth, and I admitted I have those same replays in my own head everyday. When you lose your child, you no longer have the opportunity to right wrongs or say “sorry” about those mistakes we inevitably make as parents; you must learn to live with any and all regrets, on top of also feeling like you failed your child in keeping them safe and healthy…one of your most important jobs as a parent.

I shared with this mom that my grief counselor has begun to really focus on this guilt with me, and lately I have come to realize that in my healing and learning to live with grief, I must also learn to show myself mercy. To show myself compassion and love. It is a common assumption that over time, grief “gets better” or you “move on” from the pain, but that is simply not the case. Grief lasts as long as love lasts, and I will love my child forever. While some of the crying all day long has eased, I will admit I do cry every single day. And while I can think about her actively dying and not immediately start to hyperventilate anymore, I will never be able to forget those last two gentle intakes and the peace in the room as she floated above us, free from pain. When these moments happen, instead of pushing them away, I am learning to have mercy with myself. I am giving myself compassion and understanding that these moments of grief are not ever going to leave and now make up a part of who I am.