https://www.theatlantic.com/family/...nt-tell-our-children-about-her-cancer/582709/
In my shoes, I would want to know if my loved ones had a terminal illness. But I understand and respect why they did not disclose the terminal cancer to their children. Your thoughts would become consumed with mortality and counting the days down. There's no way to live life normally once you know. You've crossed the rubicon.
Jon Mehlman said:The choice was unusual, but loving: We wanted them to live without the shadow of their mother's mortality hanging over them.
We decided not to tell the kids. Marla knew that once our three daughters understood that their mother had been given 1,000 days to live, they'd start counting.
They would not be able to enjoy school, friends, their teams, or birthday parties. They'd be watching too closely—how she looked, moved, acted, ate, or didn't. Marla wanted her daughters to stay children: unburdened, confident that tomorrow would look like yesterday.
In my shoes, I would want to know if my loved ones had a terminal illness. But I understand and respect why they did not disclose the terminal cancer to their children. Your thoughts would become consumed with mortality and counting the days down. There's no way to live life normally once you know. You've crossed the rubicon.