First three words: “I have cancer.” Next three words: “Are you okay?” Last three words: “I am strong.” This sequence of three words permanently changed me. These words became the stepping-stones of my rapid path to adulthood.

It was a normal Monday afternoon. I sped down my block determined to arrive home before my brother could swindle the last slice of left-over Sunday lasagna. I pulled into the driveway and noticed all the cars parked; it was unusually early for my entire family to be home. I rushed into the house ready to satisfy my hunger, only to find my family gathered in the living room. Instead of continuing my race to the refrigerator, I stood still. Something was wrong.

I decided to join my parents and siblings on the couch. I asked my father how his day was, complimented my mother on her Tori Burch heels, and shared some laughs with my siblings. Everything seemed typical. Then, my father uttered those first three words:

“I have cancer.”

I fled to my room, slammed the door behind me, and wept. It was difficult to think positively when in my mind those three words could only mean the worst was yet to come. When my brother knocked on my door, he uttered the next three heaviest words I’d have to hear that day:

“Are you okay?”

I was aware of what my answer needed to be. Even though it was a challenge, I knew that demonstrating emotional and mental strength would be crucial. Even though I am the youngest member of the family, I knew I could no longer carry the role of the child dependent on others for strength. For my family’s sake, I had to prove my maturity—not only was I a woman emotionally prepared to cope with her father’s diagnosis, but also mentally ready to understand the importance of putting other people’s needs above my own.

Now every time I rush into my house after coming home from school or a volleyball practice, my routine is no longer centered on satisfying my own needs. Instead, I set aside time in my schedule for my father’s medical appointments, trips to the driving range when he feels at his best, and for the latest good-natured quarrel concerning which movie sets the appropriate mood for Friday’s movie night. Sports and schoolwork are still part of my life, however, my father’s cancer opened my eyes to what is also important: family.

My father needs me to not only take care of myself, but also support our family when he may not be able to. Difficult situations like this arise in every person’s life and learning how to cope with them is part of growing up. I’ve learned that trying to deal with life’ challenges in a mature and selfless way is one of the first milestones of adulthood.

I embarked on my journey to adulthood with my own three-word reply to my brother’s question: “I am strong.”

I proved to him and to the rest of my family that my maturity could serve as an emotional succor during this distressing time. I showed them I was selfless enough to put their needs above my own when it was most essential.

Now, instead of speeding down my street in hopes of acquiring the last piece of lasagna, I rush home to spend time with my family. And if they, too, appreciate the delicious flavor lasagna conjures up on one’s taste buds, I will share that last piece of typical left-over Sunday lasagna with them all.