The Power of Grace
My College Essay by Grace Moreau
Growing up in a household with 3 older sisters was far from glamorous even though they all thought they were the Kardashians. Most days my alarm clock was Ally and Rachel fighting about who would get the bathroom first, and my snooze button was Sam chiming in about some missing piece of clothing, which nobody ever admitted to taking because Samantha can be pretty scary.
Despite all the craziness, it certainly had its perks. As the youngest child I often had the spotlight. And there was always someone watching out for me so I never had to worry about anything bad happening. From my point of view, we had the picture perfect family, until my spotlight vanished, and suddenly everything went black.
The fourth sibling, the surprise nobody was expecting, the sibling who takes away all of your parents' time, attention, and even turns your father into a person you don’t recognize, was born before I turned one. The sibling? Cancer. Stage 4 breast cancer to be exact.
So I became one of those kids who had to grow up way too fast. There was no choice. My “home” was Tufts Hospital in Boston, where I would go with my dad to his appointments and keep a brave face so he wouldn't feel worse than he already did.
Talk about sibling rivalry, I had to share everything with cancer ...not only did cancer take away time and attention, it took away my Dad’s strength. I never realized how important it was to have your Dad give you a piggyback ride, or lift you up on his shoulders, or carry you up to bed when you fall asleep on the couch, until my Dad couldn’t.
Most kids go outside to ride their bikes, play hide and seek, or go to the park with their parents, not me. I was picking up my dad when he fell in the kitchen, helping him with his medication, and emptying out his urine buckets when he was too weak to go to the bathroom.
He didn’t die until I was 11, but I lost him way before that, when the cancer decided to move to his brain. Then he wasn’t my Dad anymore. He started to forget everything and his personality changed. He got very hostile and would yell at us a lot. My mom would always tell us “ It's not Dad, it’s the cancer talking.” I was tired of talking to the cancer. I just wanted to talk to my Dad.
The weird thing is as much as cancer took away it also gave me some things too. It’s true, cancer makes your body weaker but it can also make your soul stronger. You figure out how to turn the pain into something better. You fight harder for the important things in life, like your family, your beliefs, and yourself, and then one day you wake up and realize strength and courage and resilience are a new part of you. Don’t get me wrong, I still have no love for my fourth sibling but I do have to admit I like who I am today. So whoever I become I guess I have my fourth sibling to thank for that.