"Your child has cancer." The cancer coping journey begins. An empty space is born in my heart. I respond by acting; I play the role of someone who is capable of coping with cancer. This journey was booked without my knowledge or consent. I ache to lay down my life for her. This is not an option so I do the next best thing - I stand by her.

1. Focus on the here and now: She had just finished a painful procedure. I was still reeling from the shock of the pain she endured but she intently studied, pondered, then chose a toy from the treasure chest of toys in the procedure room. While she plays with the doll, her sincere laughter makes me appreciate the present moment. I choose to focus on the present moment instead of dwelling on the painful procedure that happened a few minutes ago.

2. Do not judge a cancer coping reaction as right or wrong: I listen to Marie as she teaches me how she copes with cancer "I never heard of it." she states in response to hearing the diagnosis of leukemia. Her classmate has leukemia. She participated in a bake sale to help raise funds for the family. "Please pass the crayons." She states with a wide grin. Being an artist, her way to deal with adversity is to draw.

I resolve to be honest with her, yet nurture hope, always, forever and ever. Honesty is the light illuminating from the lighthouse in distance. The boat rocks and sways as Marie goes through the different phases of coping. The boat stays on course - I continue to present honest information and let Marie decide what to do with it. "I had enough...I want to go home." Crouched behind the locked bathroom door, Marie breaks down. I hug her tight and tell her what she must hear. Her face radiates trust. She unlocks the bathroom door and walks briskly toward the Doctor.

3. Find something good about every day: At the end of each day, Marie and I play the 'What was good about today?' game. "Paul & his jokes!" smiled Marie. "What's green and runs backward?" "I don't know." Paul answers with a wet exaggerated snort. Marie laughed so hard I had to break a smile. With puffy eyes, I warily watched our hospital aide, Paul, entertain my daughter with his marginal sense of humor at 3:00 in the morning. I focused on the present moment whenever possible, I told Marie the truth, and we found something good about every day.