The Healing Journey

August 7, 2024

More than two years after her son John died at 36 of brain cancer, Patty Dillon reflects on how she sees things in a different light now.

My beautiful son, John, died on February 20, 2022, from incurable brain cancer.

His journey began on Marco Island. He and his wife arrived there on the morning of March 24, 2019 for their “baby moon.”  Their first child was expected in July. After experiencing a severe seizure and the discovery of a large brain mass, he was flown to New Jersey for immediate surgery. By June, he already had two surgeries and was feeling well. We all prayed for a miracle. He was able to attend their baby shower.

I was present when my grandson was born on July 18, 2019. My son was ecstatic. A third John Dillon had been born. The little family moved from Manhattan to Long Island, closer to both families. Three months later, Covid hit, and I took John to all his treatments and rehab therapies. During the summer of 2021, we were blessed to be able to vacation in Cape May and Montauk as a family. The oncologist recommended that we make memories. The last family gathering John participated in was Thanksgiving 2021.

It’s all a blur now, but he was admitted to Memorial Sloan Kettering for a pulmonary embolus. Things were looking better when he was transferred to Long Island for rehab, but then he was placed in isolation over Covid. I can still see him calling me on Christmas Day and saying, “Mommy, I’m all alone.” He returned home in January and insisted on planning a trip to Woodloch Pines in Pennsylvania. He wanted a photo of his little family in front of the fireplace.

After arriving home in early February, he was never able to leave his hospital bed. He slipped away on February 20, 2022 at the age of 36. I’ve spent the past two years sobbing daily. I had a video of him taken two days before he passed. His little son was snuggled next to him in bed.

It’s been a long 29 months. On Holy Saturday I was looking at the video and sobbing. I then started to scroll back through the years. I came upon a video I took at the baby shower. I played it over and over. John was laughing, joking and speaking to my then 18-month old granddaughter.

At that moment, I had an epiphany. How fortunate I was to have the gift of time spent with him. We had conversations and laughter. We shared our love of the Beatles. We watched movies together. His illness was a gift. He had been out of the home since starting college in 2003. He came home for a year before law school. My husband died when John was finishing his second year of law school. John took over full responsibility of my affairs. He never wanted me to worry. Sometimes I didn’t see him for two months as he was very busy with his career and life. He made sure to call or text me daily.

Being able to spend all of those 35 months with him was something that never would have occurred had he not been ill. That was the silver lining of his devastating illness. He sends me signs all the time. My heart will always be broken, and he is missed beyond imagination. But, thank you Lord Jesus, for saving his life on the beach. Today is his birthday.

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