When James Meyers was diagnosed with stage IV lymphoma in the middle of the pandemic, doctors gave him months — maybe. No one was prepared. Not his wife, not his grown children, and not the four grandchildren who called him “Pop.”
“He went from cooking family dinners to barely lifting his head,” his daughter Emily recalled. “Every week, we expected the worst.”
Through pain. Through fatigue. Through prayers whispered and unspoken.
“One day he just said, ‘I want to live. I want to see the kids laugh again.’”
Against all odds, he started to recover. Slowly. Quietly. A scan brought tears of cautious joy. The cancer had responded. He was given more time.
So the Meyers decided to make the most of it.
They planned a full week in Orlando, Florida. Not just a vacation — a celebration of life.
Theme park tickets were booked. They rented a car to drive to Cocoa Beach and Clearwater. Every day was something James thought he’d never experience again: holding his grandson’s hand on a roller coaster, eating funnel cake in the sun, watching fireworks through watery eyes.
“Pop looked at me during the parade at Magic Kingdom and said, ‘I never imagined I’d see this again.’”
One night, James stood in the kitchen of their rental home, surrounded by his family, carving turkey.
“I got to make the toast,” he said.
“It was the same prayer I said every year. But this time, it meant everything.”
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