Why Mercy Leaf Exists

Two phone calls that changed everything

In 2010, I received some of the happiest news of my life. I was expecting my first child, a little girl. Excited, I called my parents to share the news, but something felt wrong. The conversation was short and their voices sounded distracted and distant.

After we hung up, I couldn’t shake that feeling. I called back and asked what was going on. That was when I learned my dad had cancer. It had already spread to his brain, lungs, liver and kidneys.

In a single day, I learned I was going to become a dad and I learned I was going to lose mine.

The man behind the diagnosis

My dad was a mechanic who owned his own shop with his business partner. He was honest, humble and hardworking, the kind of man people trusted with their vehicles and his word. He wasn’t someone who sought recognition. He was simply a good man, and he was my dad.

When he received his diagnosis, he chose to fight. He pursued aggressive chemotherapy in hopes of buying more time. Like many families facing cancer, we held onto hope and prayed for more days together.

The months that followed were heartbreaking. As he faced the cancer and treatment, he lost his appetite, struggled to keep food down and began losing weight rapidly. Within months, he had lost nearly half his body weight. Watching the strong man I had known my entire life become so frail was hard to take in.

A little comfort mattered

One of the few things that seemed to help him was cannabis. He tried to obtain THC medication through legal pharmaceutical channels, but the cost was far beyond what he could afford. An elderly customer of his would occasionally bring him a small bag of joints.

Before meals, he would smoke a little so he could eat. For a brief time, his appetite returned and food became possible again. Those moments of relief mattered to him and to the people who loved him.

No one claimed cannabis would cure his cancer. What I remember is the comfort it seemed to give him, the dignity of being able to eat and the importance of a little less suffering during a devastating season.

He got to meet her

Later that year, my daughter was born. I wasn’t sure my dad would ever get the chance to meet her, but by God’s grace, he did. He held his granddaughter in his arms and met the little girl whose existence had been announced on the same day we learned about his cancer.

Looking back, those moments were a gift. A few months later, in February 2011, he passed away.

What stayed with me

For years after my dad’s passing, I carried his story with me. Life brought its own difficult seasons, including PTSD, divorce and the work of rebuilding. I remarried, was blessed with two more daughters and found faith in Jesus Christ. Those experiences changed how I understood suffering, compassion and purpose.

I also kept learning about cannabis. What began with memories of my dad grew into study, personal experience and cultivation. His story left me with a question that never really went away: how many other people are trying to make sense of all this while someone they love is hurting?