FreeAsAButterfly, I'm so touched by your story. Last night marked three weeks since I lost my Dad to lung cancer. He was only 69 - too young to die. Isn't it always? Our story is probably not unlike that of so many families and friends of a loved-one with cancer. Dad was first diagnosed on 16 June last year. By mid-December he'd come through Chemo and Radio with flying colours and was told the original cancer site was now 100% clear - it was the greatest Christmas our family has ever had! What we didn't know is that metastisis had already started. The cells were too small to be seen at that stage, so there's no way anyone would've been able to tell him then, but by mid-February it had already started playing havoc with Dad's hips. On 6 March, his Oncologist told us there were new spots evident on Dad's liver and in his chest bones. My Dad died just 16 days later. Even the staff at the Palliative Care hospice were surprised at how quickly Dad's condition deteriorated; he was always a man who knew his own mind - part of me wonders if he didn't make it happen that way, so everything happened just how he wanted it to. Twelve days after Dad died, my Mum, brother and I "celebrated" my 35th birthday. Dad and I had joked for ages that it would be the first time in my life that I, his first-born son, would be more than half his age. On the day, it made me so sad to think that we never actually got to share that reality. So why have I told you all of this? Partly to share my story, as a fellow survivor of a loved-one being prematurely snatched away by this evil disease, so recently; but also to support Louisa's suggestion about talking. I've found talking to be so helpful, both throughout Dad's illness, through his (short-lived) recovery and since his death. I'm so lucky that I've been surrounded by so many people who care and are prepared to listen, over and over again in some cases. I've come to realise that those who are not touched by cancer, to some extent, at some point during their life really are in the minority. Friends and colleagues who've been through similar situations have been a huge source of support. And forums like this one are equally important. Sometimes the most detatched and objective ears can be the most helpful and, certainly, the easiest to talk to. More than anything, FreeAsAButterfly, my wish for you is that your online nickname is absolutely representative of where your Mum's at now. Because in the end, as the ones left behind, we need to feel that way about our loved ones; we need to feel, in our hearts and in our minds, that they are free from the pain, the torment, the sadness, fear and indignity - free as butterflies. My warmest wishes to you, FreeAsAButterfly. ... View more