The Cross

I just realized after talking to one of my girlfriends that it's father's day.  

I've had my nose to the grindstone so to speak that I almost forgot.  This week is also the anniversary of the final mile in Boston, Indiana's birthday, and 3 years since the death of my son, Murphy.  

Crossing over the Columbia into Oregon yesterday was more than just a milestone. What Stover, the well intentioned and seemingly genuinely interested reporter left out of his article was this:

This walk is all about the crossing and not just borders.  

It's the cross I wear around my neck between the ashes of Malcolm and Murphy that doesn't represent a religious symbol but a commitment.  

The symbolic representation of a cross can be found in every culture as a partnership and a promise. And, at times, a lean-to when you need it. 

It's bridging the gap in understanding that cancer is a cross species epidemic. It affects all of us. Cancer. Touches. Everyone. isn't just a tagline or some cutesy saying I came up with.

I was stopped recently and asked, 'What type of cancer are you walking for?'.  Isn't it interesting that question?  That this disease so subdivides us?  

Dog cancer.  Pet cancer.  Canine cancer.  Human cancer.  Melanoma, lymphoma, breast cancer, liver cancer, prostate cancer....

The most important takeaway point from Stover's interview was this - the microscope does NOT discriminate.  

I didn't really know what this second walk was really about until now.  I had an inkling and an instinct.  But now I know.  And on this father's day, I give thanks to my father for imparting to me a thirst for knowledge and understanding.  And my mother who helped me cross that with faith and belief.  

No matter how many bridges I cross I miss my sons.  Malcolm and Murphy.