That Dragon Cancer is a game you really need to know about.
From the developer's
"That Dragon, Cancer is an adventure game that acts as a living painting; a poem; an interactive retelling of Ryan and Amy Green’s experience raising their son Joel, a 4-year-old currently fighting his third year of terminal cancer. Players relive memories, share heartache, and discover the overwhelming hope that can be found in the face of death."
The creator's of the game have asked us, their fans, friends, and support to express the time we faced our dragon. As it turns out, I'm doing that this year. I lost someone. A big someone. Someone who was important to me in more ways than I think I can express. There was anger, pain, loss and even joy.
"Bottle it up, pour it into a cup. Make something beautiful. Make Art. We’ll serve it at PAX on your behalf. This year we’re raising money. This time with Extra Life. They love games, you love games. They love kids, they raise money for children’s hospitals."
I am so excited to contribute, even if nothing comes of it. Tapping in to this is a big part of my healing and here's the chance i have to tell a little story. This story is only important to me, and that's okay.
The ways of my people pass away with my elders. When one of our own passes on, we sing for them for days, we pray for them, and we burn every trace of their existence. I walk both worlds, old and new all of them swimming inside of me, confusing and beautiful. My grandmother, our pillar, our strength, our wisdom alive and burning in her.
Then she got sick. She knew it was coming. she knew it was the last time she'd see us, but she didn't budge. she didn't break. not even when her was drowning in her own breath. She was rock.
"when it felt like she was no where, suddenly she was everywhere"
I however, was not. One week after they took her body away, we burned candles for 3 nights, we said our goodbyes. It's the duty of the women closest to her to put her things in the fire while the singers sang and the dancers pounded the earth with their feet. I had to let her go in the fire. When I looked up, through my tears I saw the smoke and the embers become part of the sky and she was suddenly everywhere.
I really don't expect anyone to understand what they are seeing. it's okay. I just hope it's liked enough to be printed and maybe enough to give a few dollars to children's hospitals.