The Question I Chose to Ask

I never spent much time asking “why.”

Not why me.
Not why now.
Not what God or life was trying to teach me.

I don’t believe cancer arrives with an explanation attached.

And I didn’t want to turn pain into a story just to make it easier to hold.

Looking backward didn’t help me move forward.

What mattered was the one place where I still had choice.

So instead of asking why this happened, I asked what I could do with it.

Cancer didn’t demand meaning.

I did.

There’s a difference between searching for a reason and claiming responsibility for what comes next.

One keeps you circling the past.

The other gives you agency.

Purpose would never justify what happened.

But it could help me decide how it would live on in my life.

Cancer didn’t define that for me.

I did.

That choice didn’t erase the hard parts.

But it gave me something solid to stand on.

And sometimes, that’s the only ground you need.