“Daddy has cancer.” For 3 months these words were balled up in my throat making it impossible to breathe, to speak. For 3 months every time I looked at my children's faces I could feel them rising up like vomit that I had to force back down. The tears welled up in my eyes as I imagined the impending “talk” we couldn’t avoid. They knew something was wrong. Of course they knew. He had been through 2 surgeries and we had been gone countless days visiting specialists out of town. They’re smarter than I give them credit. The undercurrent in our house was tense and uncomfortable with the unspoken words. But saying it out loud was more than I could handle. We planned