Last week I started a series about what I’m thankful for.  This week I want to share why I’m thankful for the power of smiles and laughter.  I’d like to invite you in and tell you a story about my Aunt Rhonda.  My Aunt Rhonda couldn’t have kids, so she always treated me and her other nephews and nieces like her own children.  I was her first nephew, so I was particularly spoiled.  Some of my favorite memories involve her and my uncle.  When I was a teenager they moved away to Baltimore and as you can imagine I really missed them.

My aunt and uncle returned about a year ago, moving in with my grandma, and I was excited to see my Aunt Rhonda again and watch as my girls got to know her and form their own special memories.  Sounds perfect right?  The only thing is that after she had lived here a few months there was something a little off about my aunt.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.  She was exhausted all the time and losing a lot of weight, but she was working a lot of hours.  Then it hit us.  A few months ago my aunt was diagnosed with cancer.  I saw her right after she was diagnosed, and I could barely recognize her.  Fast forward to treatment and the chemo and the radiation were taking their toll on her.  She couldn’t make it up the stairs.  She was bed ridden on a sofa in the living room they had turned into a couch.  This became her prison.  She wasn’t herself.  It was heart breaking to watch her go through this.

They say laughter is the best medicine.  I would repeat this to myself as I packed my daughters in the minivan.  I’d wonder if Rhonda would have the strength to see them.  I’d wonder if the girls would add too much stress.  The moment the girls entered the house magic would happen.  Their laughter and smiles would bring back the aunt I had known.  The bed that had once been my aunt’s prison was now their special island with pirate passwords, sails, and treasure.  They were snuggling and coloring, talking about cartoons, superheroes, cats and princesses.  My grandma, exhausted from taking care of my aunt, would laugh and grin, dancing and jumping around the room with the girls.  For that brief moment, everyone in the house was healed and well.

Recently my aunt saw her oncologist and learned that she is in remission.  She’s not out of the woods yet, but this is great news I’m thankful for.  My aunt called shortly after she found out and left me a voicemail.  It’s says, “I just want you to know that those girls were the best therapy I ever had.”  I hope you share a smile and a laugh with someone today.

Have a jolly good day,

Andrew Embry