There’s an old expression about things happening in threes. Often, this is tied to negative things such as noteworthy deaths. For example, just about a month ago, Jimmy Buffett, Smashmouth’s Steve Harwell, and 1970s “Dream Weaver” crooner Gary Wright all died within the span of a week. 

In early May, my own hat trick of trauma began with a message about the health of my 82-year-old mother.

It began with a text from my sister-in-law. She had taken my mom to get the results from a series of tests and bloodwork after her doctor had earlier thought she might have had cirrhosis of the liver. Needless to say, what the doctor found wasn’t what we had expected:

“Stage 3 ovarian cancer,” read the text.

With this report, the “good” news was that cirrhosis was off the table. Unfortunately, there is no “good” cancer. All of our attention immediately shifted to when mom would begin chemo (within a week), and the potential for her to have surgery—something she balked at due to her age and fear of dying on the operating table.

Adding to the weight of this news was the fact that I couldn’t immediately see my mom. She lives in Tacoma, Washington; I live in Oakland, California. That’s 700 miles. I couldn’t just get in my my truck and drive over to her house, so I got on line and made flight reservations to visit her the following week.

The news about my mom hit on a Friday. Needless to say, getting information like that was not the way anyone wants to start the weekend. Monday had to be better.

Only it wasn’t.

My truck had been making some kind of grinding noise for a while, so I took it in to my longtime mechanic to see what was up. And what that turned out to be was my truck’s differential, which is something I still don’t understand even after paying to get it fixed. On top of that, there were some sensors that also needed to be replaced. All of that came to the tune of $3,000. No one ever likes having to shell out unexpected cash on their vehicle. But, sometimes it can’t be helped. 

That was two strikes in a matter of days. And I was about to get caught looking at strike number three. 

I got up for work on a Wednesday morning and noticed something on my computer’s calendar that wasn’t there the day before. It was a 6:45 a.m. meeting with just me, one my company’s managers and a representative from our human relations department. I could do the math.

And within 15 minutes, I was getting laid off. The company decided it needed to cut costs, so me, my boss, and a handful of others got the pink slip.

So, in less than a week:

—I found out my mother, who lives two days away by car, has cancer.

—I got hit with $3K in truck repairs, an amount that would have hard enough to deal with, but suddenly became a bigger financial weight because…

—I lost my job, and with that, the wherewithal to be able to pay for things like flights to visit my sick mom, unexpected auto issues and everything else in life without worrying too much about my family’s day-to-day financial situation.

It’s easy to say the world is against you when something goes wrong. When we do this, we are usually overreacting and just bemoaning the immediacy of our situation. After a little time, we often get past the bad news and find a way forward.

But, this time felt different for me. 

My wife and I have two daughters, and all the costs that come associated with teenagers. It may be crass, but money does matter in life. The worst thing about a lack of income is worrying about that lack of income. I recently turned 55, and hunting for a new job at my age wasn’t in the near-term plans. Not with my wife and I both looking toward retiring in about five years. I felt like a failure as a husband, father and provider.

And my mom’s cancer diagnosis hit me hard. No matter how old you are, there is always something permanent about your parents being around. Logically, I know my mom has more days behind her than ahead of her. But logic doesn’t matter when it’s your mom, and the thought of her mortality makes you aware of your own mortality.

All of that was enough to get me thinking if taking a dive off the Golden Gate Bridge might be the right move to make. All the stress, fear and despondency would be gone. I wouldn’t have to face any worries ever again.

But, I also knew who would: My wife and my daughters. As much as I may feel like a failure to them, the ultimate failure would be to give up and permanently leave them. I can’t do that. 

So, as I continue to plug away looking for a new a job, I have used my free time to take on greater Mr. Mom role in our home. All the classic jobs of getting the kids up and off to school, doing their never-ending laundry (because teenagers are genetically incapable of washing their own clothes), running daily errands and making dinner fill up my day. Is it a challenge? Yes. Does it provide a sense of purpose? In its unexpected way, it does. (But I would still like the girls to at least not leave their wet towels on the floor for me to pick up).

The situation with my mom has also improved. Her oncologist continues to be pleased with how her chemo treatments have worked. He even gave her a week off once as a kind of reward for all of her “numbers” going in the right direction. She’s not out of the woods, yet, and the surgery option remains on the table. But, if you saw her, you would think she was just your typical little old lady. We are allowing ourselves to believe that there may be a positive outcome to all of this awfulness.

Not everything is perfect by any means. Since the original work on my truck back in May, I’ve had to pay for some wheel bearings to be replaced, a new radiator to be put in, and for the rear brakes to be fixed. But, the truck is still running.

And I admit that I mark my calendar for when my bi-monthly unemployment payment hits my bank account. It’s not much, but it is something good. Right now, something good is good enough.