This is a post I have been dreading to write since the day my dad was diagnosed six and a half years ago. My dad's strength during his battle with cancer was inspiring and I am so proud of how hard he fought. When he was diagnosed the doctor gave him six months to live. My dad didn't like that answer so he found a new oncologist. He tried numerous clinical trials and he continued to beat the odds. He did not let the cancer define him. He continued to be his funny, sarcastic, stubborn, hardworking, and loving self.

He fought so hard to stay here for his family and to be around for his grandchildren. 

No one ever prepares you for the moment you have to say goodbye to a loved one. And how could they? I don't think anyone has the answers. As I was driving on the freeway to say goodbye to my dad, I was trying to gather my thoughts, but I was just sitting in silence, in disbelief. 

Over the past six and a half years we have had many scares during his battle with cancer. There were many hospital stays, long nights, a few times where I'd leave work on a Friday and fly to my parent's house to spend the weekend with my dad, then fly back home to SF on Sunday to be back for work on Monday and then do it again the following weekend. There were weekends when my husband and I made the long drive just to be able to see my dad for a quick trip. Then there was the time my mom and I drove 12 hours with my newborn son because I told my husband, "I don't think my dad is going to make it this time and I need him to meet his first grandchild." After many scares, too many to count, this time seemed to be different, possibly the worst. And it was. 

Driving on the freeway I laughed to myself as I realized I was driving in the slow lane. My dad would have hated that. When he's gone, who is going to tell me "You still have two miles, get around this car. He's driving way too slow." (I left out the curse words he probably would have used in case my kids read this when they are older). 

At a traffic light in Newport Beach I see a guy carrying a surfboard and I think to myself, he doesn't have to say goodbye to his dad today. Lucky him. I wipe the tear from my cheek and continue on. 

I arrive at Hoag and quickly park my car in the parking garage. So quick in fact, that my sweet brother in law had to help me find my car when we left because I couldn't remember where I parked. 

As I walk into the hospital I see that I have to wait in a long security check in. I start crying, trying to hold it in, but I can't help but wonder how much time my dad has left. While I wait in line I repeat over and over in my head, "Get it together, Jamie!" I can't let my dad see me like this. 

When it's my turn to check in, the lady asks who I am seeing and I lose it. I could barely get out my dad's name. This sweet lady knew I was barely holding it together so she walked me to the elevators to make sure I quickly found my dad's room. 

There I was, standing in front of the door, looking at my dad's room number. So many thoughts racing through my head. I'm not prepared for this. How is this happening? There's so much I want to say. But how much do I actually tell him? I'm worried I'll make him sad if I bring up how much I'll miss our daily FaceTimes. What if I can't stop this uncontrollable crying? He hates to see me sad. I don't want to make this already horribly sad situation worse. 

I go to open the door and I see a small sticker with his name on it. How is this real? It hits me. This is happening. 

I love my dad. And I told him this many times yesterday. We shared our favorite moments together, we joked, and he told me he loved me. He shared his wishes and hopes with me and I'll do my best to honor them. My dad, mom, brothers and I laughed and cried for the next few hours. 

I pray I told him I loved him enough times. Is it ever enough though? I could have said more. I wish I said more. I hope he knows how much I love him. I wish we had more time together. Damn, why didn't I tell him that? There's so much more I wanted to say. 

As I left Hoag hospital, shocked at our new normal, I'm reminded that I have to pay for parking. Really? I walked in having two parents and I'm walking out with only one now. You think Hoag could at least comp my parking. 

I hug my mom and my brothers. None of us really knowing what to say. My mom is the strongest person I know. But one can only handle so much. I'll forever admire my mom's strength. The reason my dad stayed alive as long as he did was because of her. She's my hero. I promised my dad we would take care of my mom. Mom, I've got you! We will figure this out and get through this together. You've got grandbabies who love you so much. 

I drive home in silence. I have to get home to feed my newborn, hug my toddler, and kiss my husband. I squeeze them all a little longer and tighter than usual. 

How do you explain where Grandpa is to a three year old. I still don't know the answer. No one prepares you for this either. 

I was so proud to introduce my dad to his first grandchild. It was 2019 and prior to this, we didn't think my dad would make it to meet him. Thanks to God, they met and we all had tears and a hundred pictures to document. 

My dad would continue to have ups and downs in his cancer journey. But when he was feeling better we planned a trip to Hawaii… he was so excited to take his grandchildren to Hawaii. Then March 2020 happened, the world shut down and our trip was cancelled. He unfortunately never got well enough to travel again and now we will never have that vacation. Hawaii was his happy place and I so wanted to be able to make that trip happen. We will go again sometime, but it will never be the same without my dad there. 

Grief is hard. And I'm only 15 hours into it. My first whole day without my dad is Father's Day 2022. Ugh, talk about timing. 

I have two boys who will grow up without their Grandpa. I'm heartbroken. In my heart, I knew that my dad was going to be an even better Grandpa. I'm sad they won't know him in person anymore. I'll do my best to share the funny stories and keep some of his traditions alive. My kids will get a kick out of his stories from working at the log ride at Knotts Berry Farm when he was younger. I'm still shocked at some of the pranks my dad pulled there. I'm such a rule follower, I could have never done some of those things. I'll leave those stories out of this in case they are still looking for the culprits 😊

I'll forever remember my dad's love of the Red Sox, Hawaii, ice tea, the way he lit up around my mom, how his goal in life was to always make my mom laugh, the way he would always sign his cards, our father/daughter breakfasts at the local breakfast taco place, the many hours spent at Jesmond Dene, playing basketball in the driveway, the sunsets at A-bay, how he knew my husband was the one for me, and how proud he was to be a Grandpa. I love you dad! Go Red Sox

—Jamie Cardenas

---

When Sherm and Susan moved in next door to me, I was happy as the home needed owners who would love and care for it. I was thrilled as I watched the changes to their back yard as Sherm was always busy pruning and cutting away. I, too, was an avid gardener and would climb up onto my crib wall to work on the things that were planted on it. It was during one of these work session that I happened to meet Sherm who was also up on his bordering crib wall, busy cutting down overgrown bushes. We started chatting and became fast friends, sharing our love of our "hills" that stood like evergreen guards to our houses.

It didn't seem like a very long time had past when I got my cancer diagnosis. Sherm and Susan were wonderfully caring and helpful during my recovery. It was about 6 months after my operation when one day I noticed Sherm out cutting so I said hello. He then told me his news- he had just been diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. He was a vision of health. So started our next shared experience- cancer.

Through the years, I had watched Sherm struggle and fight his brave fight to stay alive for Susan and his children. Sometimes I would hear him outside pruning away after he had endured some horrible procedure. We talked about how cancer had changed our lives. He told me of his struggles to accept this "new normal" of being sick. I told him how difficult it was for me to be rendered disabled after my operation. I am happy to report that my cancer has never returned. So I sometimes felt guilty that Sherm had to suffer. But he never gave up. His strength inspired me.

Sherm struggled one day to bring something to our house. After he made it to our front door, he came inside and collapsed on the couch. He told me how difficult it was. I told him that his legacy would be about how his struggles with all his treatments would enable so many people to extend their lives after diagnosis. He would leave, baseball hat securely on his head, and begin a new journey to live for his family.

Sherm was one of strongest men I have ever met. His love for Susan and his children was amazing. He always bragged about Susan! She was such a star in his eyes! He will be missed for his strength and character. He was an awesome neighbor and I am proud to have been his friend.

—Mary Strongin

---

Photo courtesy Susan Park Johnson

Sherman W. Johnson

… teacher, coach, father, husband, grandfather and friend

If you grew up in Pauma Valley, Calif. and went to Pauma Elementary School in the 1980s and '90s, blessed were you to have had Mr. Johnson as your eighth grade teacher. He taught more than just subjects in math, English, history, etc. He also trained these students with the skills required to become productive members of society as law-abiding citizens.

To him, each student was talented and gifted. He saw their potential as successful people in life, and in that way he was different than most teachers. For starters, he could remember the most-minute detail about each student. Additional examples: He could remember each of their names, key conversations – word for word – and he could tell you what grades and what years they graduated, he kept every grade book (to be sure he was always right about those grades), he kept class photos like historical documents, photos of field trips, photos of them participating in sports, photos of the talent show, the eighth grade plays, and championship softballs signed by his students. He was distinct in that way, different than most other teachers. That's why you remember him most, right?

But why did it all matter to him? Why did he exert that effort?

Because he loved his students.

Mr. Johnson will be missed by so many people, especially by those to whose lives he made positive impacts. From the hundreds (if not thousands) of students he taught. From the academic community that he challenged and fought in a tug of war so that those administrations would become a better version of themselves – demanding that they become a reflection of the students he taught. From his friends, whose relationships were strengthened and forged with loyalty over the years. And then of course I cannot begin to calculate the positive impact he made on his wife, Susan Park Johnson; Michael Johnson; Matt; and Jamie; along with his entire family.

As we celebrate and remember Mr. Johnson, a teacher, coach, father, husband, grandfather and friend, let us pray for his eternal peace … that his light shines on us every day. In Jesus's name, Amen.

---