FUCK CANCER.
No.
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK CANCER.
I say that from the very bottom of my soul with every ounce of strength I have left.
The biggest middle finger I can possibly throw belongs to cancer.
I’ve had it twice myself.
Thyroid cancer.
Uterine cancer.
Thankfully, I’m still here.
But so many of my people aren’t.
Cancer has stolen way too many of them.
Lately I’ve realized something…
I’m at a point in my life where I desperately need to have a conversation with my grandma.
There are so many things I need to ask her.
So many stories I never thought to hear.
So many recipes I should’ve written down.
So much advice I didn’t know I’d one day need.
I can’t.
She’s been gone for almost thirteen years now.
Then, just a few months ago, we lost my Aunt Char.
Now you have to understand…
She was my person.
She had been since the first time she held me as a baby.
When I was little, I wanted to be wherever she was. As I grew up, our relationship changed, but one thing never did…
She was always there.
She was the one I’d message when I needed advice.
When I wanted to bitch about family.
When motherhood was kicking my ass.
When I found a new recipe I just had to share.
When something hilarious happened.
When life felt too damn heavy.
And the beautiful part was…she’d message me too. Just as often. Sometimes she needed to vent about family. Sometimes she’d send me a recipe she thought I’d love. Sometimes she’d tell me something funny that had happened. Sometimes she’d ask my opinion or just check in because she wanted to talk. We were each other’s safe place, and I don’t think either of us ever had to wonder if the other one would answer.
Our personalities were so much alike. We saw the world through a lot of the same lens. Politics, food, family, life…we could talk about absolutely anything.
The other day, something happened.
Without even thinking, I opened Messenger and started typing her a novel.
Paragraph after paragraph.
Exactly like I’d done hundreds of times before.
I laughed while I typed.
I complained.
I asked for her opinion.
My finger hovered over Send…
…and then it hit me.
She isn’t going to answer.
Ever again.
I just sat there staring at the screen while the realization crashed over me all over again.
Grief is a real son of a bitch like that.
It doesn’t always show up on anniversaries or holidays.
Sometimes it sneaks up on you on an ordinary Tuesday while you’re doing something you’ve done a thousand times.
One second you’re living your life…
The next you’re crying over a message that will never be read.
I hate losing people who matter.
I don’t care if it’s cancer.
A heart attack.
A car accident.
Old age.
None of it feels fair when it’s your person.
People love to say, “Time heals all wounds.”
I don’t think that’s true.
I think time teaches you how to survive the wound.
The sharp edges eventually dull a little.
You stop crying every single day.
You learn to laugh again.
But there are people-shaped holes in your heart that never completely close.
You just learn how to carry them with you.
So today…
Cancer gets another giant, unapologetic middle finger from me.
Because it didn’t just take lives.
It stole conversations that should’ve happened.
It stole holidays.
It stole recipes.
It stole phone calls.
It stole advice.
It stole hugs.
It stole future memories that families will never get to make.
And that’s the part that breaks me.
To everyone who is missing someone today…
I see you.
I know that ache that comes out of nowhere and steals the air from your lungs.
I’d give just about anything…
For one more hug.
One more laugh.
One more “I love you.”
One more conversation.
Fuck cancer. Forever and always.
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