The overall existence of a person equates to much more than money could ever buy, but if someone told me for a certain amount of money I could get my Dad back, I’d jump at the chance. Furthermore, I’d jump at the chance just to relive precious memories I have of my father.

After being diagnosed for the third time with brain cancer in 2015, my father no longer worked for a future with his family; instead, he focused on working towards a future of keeping us stable in his absence.

We lived our lives knowing Dad was on “borrowed time”. Can I get a discount for wanting to forget rather than relive a memory? Is that how it could work? Regardless, I’d give every pay cheque I would ever receive in the future.

And I know that still won’t be enough.

Before I realised it, we reached a point where we would be seeing Dad do things for the last time. So do last times get a higher rate of pay? To determine the price of a human life, are these memories worth more?

The end of May brought forth the last time I would see my father walk by himself. By July, he had lost his appetite for even his favourite food, steak and veg. If I could go back to seeing Dad’s true self and not the cancer-controlled person he had become, I’d max out all the credit cards from every bank willing to lend me money.

And I know that still wouldn’t be enough.

So instead, my realist self shines through: I will never get the future I had hoped for with my Dad. No matter what I could give, or pay, or bargain for, I won’t walk down the aisle with my father at my side. I won’t see my father hold his grandchildren, and I won’t see him grow old alongside my mother. But I know at a point in the future other families won’t miss out on these treasured moments.

The reality is no amount of money has the power to bring my Dad back. But each donation has the power to get one step closer to finding a cure so other families don’t have to go through what my family has had to endure.

And I know, one day, that will be enough.