Today marks 1,400 days since I began Jenesis. This article is post 1,402.

What does it take to write every day for 1,400 days? Time. Dedication. Perseverance. An understanding family. An ability to convert thoughts into words, sentences and visuals.

Most importantly, writing every day has required a certain level of health—both physical and mental. At no point in the past 1,400 days have I been so ill that I couldn't write and publish something. Not on surgery days (I've had 4 of those). Not on chemotherapy days (I've had 6 of those). Not on radiation treatment days (I've had 25 of those). And not on all the days that I was recovering from surgery, chemo and radiation, not to mention new medications and the occasional bad news.

In those 1,400 days, I've documented my experience with ovarian cancer, perianal skin cancer and prophylactic mastectomy. I've discussed inherited genetic mutations, physical and mental health, and the challenges of caregiving. I've shared my perspectives on career, learning a language, and organizing your life. I've discussed the tender parts of being human: relationships, love, humour, music, poetry, art, writing, storytelling, and aging gracefully. And I've told stories: some that had occurred on the day I wrote them; others that had occurred years before.

In some ways, Jenesis has become my place to think out loud, not just about my life but also about what I'm learning and what I believe will be valuable to other people.

One of the things I've learned since July 2020 is how much loved ones appreciate the footprints left by those who have departed from this Earth. Before her untimely death at the age of 35, the late Nicky Newman (whose husband maintains their Instagram account @nicknacklou in her memory) wrote, "So the next time someone says ‘get in’ the photo, GET IN IT!" She added: "one day someone will be grateful you took the photo & that you are in it." I'm certain that every one of Nicky's family and friends are grateful for her photos as well as her videos, writings and artwork.

Coincidentally, the subject of photos came up yesterday from a different source. A friend sent me a link to a blog post by Cassandra Marsillo called Nonno & I: A photo to know if you want to know me. As per her Substack account, "Cassandra is an oral historian, artist, and teacher based in Tiohtiá:ke (Montréal), telling and listening to stories about immigration, identity, collective memory, food, and folklore." In her post about a photo of her and her grandfather, Cassandra notes:

I’ve always understood remembering to be a bridging of what is real, what is imagined, and what is learned. People’s stories help craft our own narratives; objects and photos serve as concrete artefacts and evidence; and our imaginations help fill in the details lost to time. If we are our experiences, and our experiences lie in our memories, then parts of us, our stories, are also made up of the imaginings and ghosts that have left their traces.

Writing every day for the past 22 months has enabled me to leave less to memory and imagination and more to the ongoing documentation of my life. And as I've reflected on my past before cancer, I've been able to access more memories—some real, others no doubt a mix of reality and imagination—than I would have been able to recall without the discipline of a daily writing practice.

Where does that lead me, after 1,402 posts? Believing that the result is worth the effort. Some day, someone will be glad that I took the photo, that I wrote my experience, that I gathered the stories (my own and those of others).

The footprints we leave will be cherished by those whose love for us endures long after we're gone.