"It's A Wonderful Life" is my favorite movie of all time. I know it's become a cliché in recent years, but I've subjected my family to this annual holiday tradition for more than 25 years.

Gold Gift BoxOne of my favorite scenes is at the end of the move when George Bailey's wife sends word around town that George needs help. George, an unassuming man who does not realize the impact he has made on others, has given up his will to live. From every nook and cranny of his town and his life, friends and acquaintances appear to provide much-needed help.

Watching that movie, I always thought, "Wouldn't it be great if people knew what other people thought of them, and knew the impact they made in the lives of others?"

Cancer has given my family that gift.

Almost daily, we receive support from friends and family, and often in very unexpected ways. There is a core group of people who have stepped up in amazing ways.

My husband's sister has led the charge. She has put her own life on hold so many times this past year and is the one go-to person for whatever we need.

We created a Facebook group to provide information to friends and family about our son's cancer journey. Many of our friends have told us that they monitor "Alex's Army" closely for updates. I know that I look to those "likes" and comments for support.

Alex's group home has never skipped a beat. He has continued to live in their wonderful care throughout his illness. We all strive to keep his routine as "normal" as possible. Luckily, his group home is only 20 minutes from our family home. We take him to his treatments and visit him often. We get daily updates from staff. Alex remaining in his group home has also allowed my husband and me to continue some semblance of normalcy throughout this journey as well. Alex had made a successful transition from our family home to his group home before he became ill, and my husband and I were discovering how to be empty nesters.

In addition to the support we have received from what I would call the more "expected" corners of our life, there has been an outpouring from unexpected sources as well. Notes, cards, gift cards, calls, e-mails and Facebook friend requests have poured in from acquaintances, relatives, friends and others we have lost touch with over the years. People from work, church or our community who we knew well enough to nod to or say hi to at functions, but were not close to, have reached out as well.

Like George Bailey, I feel humbled that our family is the topic of so many dinner table conversations, prayers and tears. A friend recently shared that her young daughter asked her why she was crying, and my friend told her daughter she was sad for her friend whose son had cancer. This is a friend from my childhood who I have not seen in person for many years.

Another friend from my high school days has sewn super-hero pajama shirts for Alex to wear in the hospital.

A few days ago I received a note from a woman who I've gone on scrapbook weekends with; our circles of friends overlap — "you may not remember me," the note began. Funny how I always think I'm the person others won't remember. She shared about her son, who is doing well after a stem cell transplant — the same procedure we are now preparing for.

Cancer has given us the gift that George Bailey received. We get to see that our family has touched the lives of others. As a mom, it warms my heart to know that Alex has touched many lives in his 25 years.

We are buoyed by the support. And we are grateful. It has helped us on our journey so far, and it will help us in the months to come as Alex faces his stem cell transplant.

I think there is also a lesson to be learned. Take the risk to tell others that you're thinking of them. Reach out to someone in need. Even if all you have to offer are your words, that makes a difference.

I hope I can extend to others the gift that has been given to me.


Share Your Thoughts

Has your cancer diagnosis shown you how you have touched other lives? Have you told people how their words or actions have affected you? Share your comments below.

Thumbnail
About the Author

Carrie Forster is the mother of Alex Forster, a 26-year-old man with autism who was diagnosed with Stage II (bulky) Hodgkin's lymphoma in February 2015. Adding to the complexity of Alex's cancer treatment is the fact that Alex has autism and is nonverbal. His parents have had to learn to be Alex's advocate and voice, especially now during Alex's illness. Alex lives in an adult family home in Appleton, not far from his parents. Alex's family also includes his dad, John, his sister, Jessica, and her husband, Rusty.

Melissa Narans

You are such a beautiful example of how to give and reach out to others. I am so amazed by your willingness to give of yourself on this journey. My thoughts and heart are with you.