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Dad recovered from cancer. I didn't.

My story is short. I originally wrote this as a Six Word Memoir back in 2009.
"There's always one defining moment in someone's life that changes everything. I was 16 when Dad was diagnosed (with prostate cancer). Seeing him cry, seeing my hero, my rock, the one man in the world who always made everything OK...seeing him cry destroyed me. All my selfish dreams for school and career just dissolved. I feel into a deep depression that still affects me seven years later. Instead of wanting a career and my own money and to be free...all I want now is a family."
It's been 10 years since Dad's bout with the big C. He's doing great. Healthier and happier than ever. I, on the other hand, had an emotional bomb dropped on me.
I am recently married. Less than one year. My husband is a soldier and while serving on this latest tour (number 4, by the way) he has hit a breaking point. He calls it his mid-life crisis. We are 27. He needs to go find himself and re-learn love, and has asked me would I let him go if I had to...I want to strangle him. Sometimes I catch myself thinking I could have handled his heroic death in the line of duty better than this heartbreak.
My life has changed again. He won't be home for another 5 months and I have mentally ended our marriage for now. I took off the rings. I put the photo album away. I am for all intensive purposes free. No, I will not be taking any liberties with the opposite sex. I am simply living as just myself. Surrounded by his things and our memories, this is a daunting task. But I am sensing some sort of recovery. Instead of feeling destroyed, I feel rebuilt. If my father can beat cancer, I sure as hell can beat a broken heart.

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