Grieving in the Fight

In a previous article, Battling Cancer With A Loved One, I mentioned my sweet friend who was battling breast cancer and how absolutely helpless I felt.

Grieving the loss of my dear friend

On November 20th, my precious friend, mom, wife, active community member, attorney and so many other titles that she graciously wore received her ultimate healing. Our friendship wasn’t created over cancer, but it sure did help to have a friend to fight alongside me. She was diagnosed just a mere four days after my diagnosis in October of 2017. I felt great relief in that I wouldn’t have to do this alone.

I was certain that she was going to breeze through, and I would likely not. I was kind of jealous of breast cancer if you will because of more research, more cutting-edge medication, greater survival rates, the huge awareness events, the local football teams pinking out their uniforms and their stadiums, and so on. And here I am fighting one of the most fatal cancers and doing well. I am living as normally as possible without pain. This doesn’t seem fair, does it?

How can we be there for each other?

Two received their healing within two days of each other from this family. I sat from afar and wondered how much more could one family take. I was really helpless. I am walking in the middle of my own cancer journey and did not know what to say. The simple words “I’m sorry” didn’t seem good enough. I wanted to make it better. Make it right. Make such a heavy time lighter. I couldn’t.

I tried to focus on my friend and her brother-in-law not suffering anymore, no more pain, no more needles, no more oxygen tanks, no more nausea, and all that goes with that, but that also meant no longer with us. I selfishly wanted my friend to still be here. Her sweet husband kept us updated daily on her progress and decline. It was a literal rollercoaster. I tried to be positive for him, but many days I fell apart and hid my brokenness.

Losing a friend and piece of myself...

There’s real raw grief of the loss of my loved one and the shock wave of her being gone. I can’t text her and ask questions or fuss about being tired to her or ask how she’s feeling. She always celebrated good appointments with me even when hers' were not so good. I know that cancer is a thief of so much. It’s especially difficult to attempt to understand why some are spared, and some are not.

I asked her one day early in our journey if she was afraid of leaving this world too soon and her response was that she had not thought about it and it never entered her mind. She wasn’t afraid. Fear was not part of her journey.

Not only am I grieving the loss of my dear friend, but I am at the same time trying not to think about my own mortality and comparing our stories. I am trying hard not to rob my good days worrying about my last days. Someone told me that we are all terminal regardless of cancer. I must confess that some days are better than others. I suppose that is part of the journey.

The cycle of grief and gratefulness is taxing

In addition to grieving loss, there’s also a guilt component. I know that our stories are very different, but it’s almost like I feel bad that I am still here and doing well. At the end of the day, I can only take care of myself. This grief of a loved one is something that I have heard many mention but never experienced. I try to tell myself that I am still the same person and that cancer is just something that has happened to me. How do I encourage someone grieving their loved one when I am doing so well, and my family still has me?

The cycle of utter grief and gratefulness is taxing. I am so very grateful to be doing well on the journey, but is that bragging? Am I being insensitive to those that are not? I don’t want to be sad and talk about that either. Where is the balance? Is there a balance? I don’t ever want to appear ungrateful because I know the shift will eventually come. Conversations will have to be helpful and difficult decisions made.

Keep fighting for tomorrow

I definitely don’t have the answers, but I do know that my precious friend would tell me to keep going and to keep fighting and to not be sad for her. I believe in heaven and we have a promise of seeing our loved ones again one day.