When my father received a stage IV esophageal cancer diagnosis in 2012, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I spent countless hours on the phone with him and his doctors, desperately trying to grasp what the months ahead would hold. I sobbed, indulged in way too much ice cream, and took my frustration out on my husband, all while feeling utterly terrified. My laundry piled up, dust gathered on my coffee tables, and I could barely remind myself to wash my hair. Every day brought fresh waves of information: chemotherapy plans, medication protocols, and potential complications.
My world was turned upside down, and I’d lie awake at night, a frightened daughter grappling with the thought of losing her dad. It was a roller coaster of emotions—helplessness and anger on good days, vengefulness and bitterness on bad days. Cancer shattered any sense of normalcy I had as a mother, wife, and daughter.
I was a wreck, and I relied heavily on my friends for support and understanding. They stepped up in ways I could never have imagined. I had friends who jogged alongside me when I needed to vent at my “I Hate Cancer” pace, and others who would listen while I paced the grocery store aisles, overwhelmed by medical jargon. My husband, my rock, embraced me through my tears and quietly accepted the fact that dinner was often just boxed macaroni and cheese. I lashed out at those who loved me, and yet they stood by me, unwavering.
When my father passed away in October 2012, my friends showed me incredible kindness during my darkest hours. On the day of the funeral, a friend sent a catered breakfast from six states away, knowing we wouldn’t remember to eat in our grief. In those moments, I resolved to pay it forward and become the friend I needed during my own time of crisis.
Fast forward four years, and since my dad’s passing, I’ve lost count of the friends who have faced similar heartache. I’ve stood by them at funerals, brought meals that don’t involve pasta (seriously, stop with the lasagnas!), and sent thoughtful gifts that honor their loved ones instead of sending wilting flowers. In this way, I’ve become a more supportive friend during tough times, which is the one silver lining of losing my father.
However, what hasn’t become any easier is that gut-wrenching moment when a friend informs me their parent has received a devastating cancer diagnosis. I see the same anguish in their eyes that I felt when my dad’s doctor delivered the heartbreaking news. I know what’s coming, and it’s not good. I want to shield her from the inevitable sorrow of witnessing her mother take her last breath. I wish I could advise her to purchase that unflattering funeral dress now, so she won’t have to wander through Target the night before the service, feeling lost. I want to tell her to memorize her mother’s hands, because it’s unnerving how quickly those memories fade.
I want her to be prepared for moments of irrationality—like picturing her mother cold in the ground or seeing her in the grocery store so vividly that it makes her stomach turn. I want her to know that in the months following her mother’s death, she might drink too much and feel like punching anyone who says “time heals all wounds.” I wish I could tell her that sitting in church will never be the same again, as memories of the casket flood back, and that they always seem to play “Amazing Grace” on the days when she misses her most. I yearn to share that laughter will feel like a chore during those initial months and that funeral homes charge for everything—even the little prayer cards.
But I won’t share these truths yet. She’ll discover them on her own, in her own time and way. For now, I’ll listen to her pain, lift her spirits on her tough days, and pour her a glass of wine when she needs a break from it all. I’ll remind her that I’m living proof that she can survive the loss of a parent, and that joy will eventually find its way back to her.
Ultimately, I’ll be there to hold her hand when she enters the “I’ve Lost A Parent Club,” a club she doesn’t even know exists yet.
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Summary:
The journey of supporting friends through the loss of a parent is filled with emotional challenges and realizations. While the writer reflects on her own experience of losing her father to cancer, she vows to be there for her friends who face similar heartaches, offering understanding and support while allowing them to discover their own way through grief.