I had no idea she'd die so soon. We'd only been friends for a little over a year, but during that year, we'd shared so much. We shared the same diagnosis, the same stage of cancer, the same grade tumor. Our lives were parallel. It just didn't make sense.
Both she and I had chosen to forego traditional treatment routes. We'd opted for natural treatments. We'd shared each and every possibility in hopes of finding things that worked for one another. At times, it felt like it was a game. "Have you tried this?" Or, "No I haven't tried that, but have you tried this?" And in those moments, we developed a comradery like no other. We were sisters, even though we didn't share any familial ties.
"Why not me?" I asked myself. Why was I allowed to live and she had not been?
Trying to make sense of the situation was ridiculous. Cancer has no rhyme or reason. It takes whom it will, when it will.
But the feelings of guilt and remorse overwhelmed me. I was extremely sad that she had passed away but at the same time, I was so very grateful to be living. It was a double edged sword, one I didn't want to wield.
After talking with another breast cancer friend, I realized what I was experiencing was called Survivor's guilt. My feelings were valid and I needed to give myself permission to not only feel what I was feeling, but to come to terms with my grief.
Trying to find words of comfort to offer my friend's daughter, I found myself speechless, but at that moment, there was no real need for words. Her daughter took comfort in just knowing my thoughts and prayers were with her.
Since my diagnosis in 2014, I've lost more friends than I care to name. Each and every time, I've wondered why I survived and they did not. In each instance, I've struggled to make sense of it all and I've been unable to do so.
One thing I know for a fact, cancer will continue to take the lives of people I love and every time it does, I'll wonder why it wasn't me. The only thing I cling to is hope. Hope for a better tomorrow. Hope for a world without cancer. And, hope that one day, I won't feel survivor's guilt any more.
Both she and I had chosen to forego traditional treatment routes. We'd opted for natural treatments. We'd shared each and every possibility in hopes of finding things that worked for one another. At times, it felt like it was a game. "Have you tried this?" Or, "No I haven't tried that, but have you tried this?" And in those moments, we developed a comradery like no other. We were sisters, even though we didn't share any familial ties.
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| My sweet friend, Lori and her daughter |
"Why not me?" I asked myself. Why was I allowed to live and she had not been?
Trying to make sense of the situation was ridiculous. Cancer has no rhyme or reason. It takes whom it will, when it will.
But the feelings of guilt and remorse overwhelmed me. I was extremely sad that she had passed away but at the same time, I was so very grateful to be living. It was a double edged sword, one I didn't want to wield.
After talking with another breast cancer friend, I realized what I was experiencing was called Survivor's guilt. My feelings were valid and I needed to give myself permission to not only feel what I was feeling, but to come to terms with my grief.
Trying to find words of comfort to offer my friend's daughter, I found myself speechless, but at that moment, there was no real need for words. Her daughter took comfort in just knowing my thoughts and prayers were with her.
Since my diagnosis in 2014, I've lost more friends than I care to name. Each and every time, I've wondered why I survived and they did not. In each instance, I've struggled to make sense of it all and I've been unable to do so.
One thing I know for a fact, cancer will continue to take the lives of people I love and every time it does, I'll wonder why it wasn't me. The only thing I cling to is hope. Hope for a better tomorrow. Hope for a world without cancer. And, hope that one day, I won't feel survivor's guilt any more.
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