The August Promise

The August Promise

The August Promise


Welcome to Khy Khy's third blog post.  This one is very important to me, and I am excited to share my plans with you.  But first, a little backstory.


August 22nd will mark 10 years since I lost my father to pancreatic cancer.   It progressed quickly.  He was diagnosed in June 2013 and was given 3 months to 5 years to live, but sadly passed away only 2 months later.  It was a surreal time but not unfamiliar, as I had lost my mother to brain and lung cancer only a couple years prior, in 2011.


Those two years were an absolute blur.  Looking back now I feel like I was just a zombie trying to navigate this new life of the loss of one parent, and then the other so soon after, when the original loss was still so raw.  I remember feeling all the emotions, trying to understand how to grieve, and being so young (23 and 25 years old at the time of losses) and scared that I had a whole life left to navigate through on my own. I remember so many people saying (with the absolute best intentions) to “Take as long as you need to grieve” …but the truth of the matter is, grief never leaves.  It is a lifelong journey that sticks with you, and we are simply learning to cope and adapt to our new normal. 


I met my husband only 2 weeks before dad was diagnosed, and I tried so hard to push him away knowing I was not going to be myself for awhile.  He stayed by me through it all and he was able to meet my father twice before he passed away.  At his funeral my stepsister handed me a surprise.  It was from my father.  He was a vocalist and had secretly recorded a song for me to play on my wedding day so “he could be there.”  As fate would have it, I ended up marrying the man who stuck by me and the last man my father had met, and on our wedding day we listened to that song for the first time together with all our friends and family.


It has now been 10 and 12 years since the losses, and people look at me and think I have done so well all things considering. Truthfully though, I may look calm and cool at the surface, but under the water I am still kicking like hell trying to keep afloat.  The saving grace is that each day I am become a better swimmer.  My grief is life long, as is anyone’s who has experienced any type of loss.


This may seem like a wild story—but what is even wilder is that I am not alone.  Cancer has touched almost everyone in one way or another.  It does not discriminate.  It does not care. 

I believe in medicine.  I believe in doctors and medical professionals. I believe in second opinions. I believe you should get tested, and I believe you should fight.  

I also believe that one day we can all put cancer behind us.


We have decided that for the month of August we will be donating a portion of our total sales to the Canadian Cancer Society in honour of not only my parents, but to all who have lost the battle, those who are currently battling, those who will be battling, and those who have kicked cancer’s ass. 

And to those who are experiencing the horrors of a loved one’s cancer diagnosis, you are not alone.  You have never been alone, and you will never be alone.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel, so long as you believe it.


Love and light,



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