By Victoria Lee, Artist and Caregiver
When your child is diagnosed with cancer—especially at the tender age of two—your world shifts in a way that defies description. My son, Ben, is the heart of our family. With a smile that lights up any room and a spirit that radiates joy, he has become a true symbol of resilience. By the time he was thirteen, Ben had already endured three brain surgeries, two tumors, and an aneurysm. Despite it all, he continued to be the life of every gathering—his laughter echoing louder than the pain.
After five and a half years cancer-free, our hearts sank in August 2020 when we learned Ben’s cancer had returned. Two nodules had appeared near the original tumor site from 2014. It was a devastating blow, one we had prayed would never come. But we began again, walking into the storm with hope in one hand and fear in the other.
Today, we are four and a half years cancer-free again, but the anxiety never fully leaves. That lingering question—Will it come back?—never stops echoing in a parent’s mind. And yet, we carry on. We live. We love. We grow.
For me, art is not just a hobby—it’s a lifeline. It is my therapy, my sanctuary, and my way of processing the unimaginable. This acrylic painting was created during a paint-and-sip class I teach on Friday nights. I didn’t set out to paint anything profound. I just wanted something simple, something accessible to beginners. But as the canvas came to life, so did a story I didn’t know I needed to tell.
In the painting, I am in the center, my adult daughter to the right, and Ben—our warrior—on the left. This artwork reflects not just our bond, but our shared strength as caregivers and survivors. It’s a visual representation of how we hold one another through the darkest of times and find light in even the smallest victories.
“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger,” said Nietzsche. That has become our truth.
I am grateful for the opportunity to share this piece through Art of Surviving, and to honor my family’s journey. To every caregiver, survivor, and fighter out there: find your outlet. Create, write, run, sing—whatever helps you breathe again. You are not alone.
With gratitude,
Ben’s Momma
