My calendar is pretty full this weekend. Between activities with Gilda’s Club Kansas City, Kansas City Hospice & Palliative Care, and preparations for Research Week with PIVOT at the University of Kansas Cancer Center, I’ve been thinking about the different ways we show up for one another.

These organizations have different missions, but there’s a common thread. They’re all about people helping people, whether that’s providing support during illness, offering comfort in grief, or using personal experiences to improve care for others.

And here’s what I’ve learned along the way: You don’t need to belong to an organization, have special training, or make a grand gesture to make a difference in someone’s life.

Sometimes the smallest things stay with us the longest.

 

A Gift I Didn’t Know I Needed

At my mum’s celebration of life, someone I didn’t know particularly well showed up. I hadn’t expected to see her, and I certainly hadn’t expected her to bring me a gift.

It was a children’s book about grief called Will We Always Hold Hands?

At first, a children’s book might seem like an unusual gift for an adult who has lost her mother. But it touched something in me that I hadn’t quite been able to put into words.

Losing a parent can bring you right back to childhood, no matter how old you are. When my mum died, I remember feeling that I was nobody’s child anymore.

Of course, I was an adult with a lifetime of experiences behind me. But there was something about losing my mum that made the world feel different. That connection to the person who had known me from the very beginning was gone.

That little book acknowledged something I was feeling, even though I hadn’t expressed it to anyone.

I don’t know whether the woman who gave it to me realized how much it would mean. But years later, I still remember her kindness.

She showed up. She brought something thoughtful. And she made a difference.

 

Remembering Matters, Even Years Later

It’s been more than seven years since John died.

In the early days, people often reached out on his birthday or the anniversary of his death. As the years have passed, those messages have become less frequent. That’s understandable. Life moves forward, and everyone’s calendars are filled with their own important dates.

But those dates haven’t become any less meaningful to me.

I always remember them. And when someone else remembers too, it brings me a little moment of joy.

A simple text saying, “Thinking of you and John today,” can mean so much.

It tells me that someone else remembers him. That his life mattered to them, too.

We sometimes hesitate to mention someone who has died because we’re afraid of making the person who loved them sad. But for many of us, hearing their name is a gift. It reminds us that they haven’t been forgotten.

You don’t need the perfect words. Sometimes remembering is enough.

 

Everyone Has Something to Offer

One of the things I appreciate most about my work with PIVOT is the diversity of experiences people bring to the table.

Some have experienced cancer themselves. Others have been caregivers. Their diagnoses, treatments, family situations, and experiences with the healthcare system may be very different.

And that’s precisely why their voices matter.

When people share their experiences, they help researchers consider perspectives they might otherwise miss. Those different voices can make research more meaningful for people who will face cancer in the future.

It’s a reminder that we don’t all have to contribute in the same way to make a difference.

The same is true in our everyday lives.

Maybe you’re the person who knows exactly what to say when someone is struggling. Maybe you’re better at practical things, like picking up groceries, walking the dog, or taking someone to an appointment.

Maybe you’re a good listener. Or perhaps you’re the person who remembers birthdays, anniversaries, and other dates that matter.

There’s no single right way to show up.

The important thing is that we do.

 

Connection Goes Both Ways

After losing John, I struggled to make sense of something that seemed so senseless.

Over time, I found opportunities to share my experiences, time, and talents with organizations that had made a difference in my own life.

I didn’t begin volunteering with the expectation that it would help me heal. But those experiences have given me something I didn’t fully anticipate: a strong sense of purpose, community, and meaning.

I’ve met extraordinary people, learned from experiences very different from my own, and found ways to turn some of what I’ve lived through into something that might help someone else.

That doesn’t make the losses any less painful. And it certainly doesn’t mean everyone needs to volunteer or find a greater purpose in their grief.

But I’ve learned that connection can work both ways.

Sometimes, when we show up for others, we discover that we’re receiving something meaningful, too.

 

One Small Thing

It’s easy to think that making a difference requires a big commitment. Volunteering regularly. Joining a board. Organizing an event. Taking on a project.

Those are wonderful ways to contribute, but they’re far from the only ones.

What if, this week, we each did just one small thing?

• Send a message to someone who has been on your mind.
• Put an important anniversary on your calendar so you can reach out next year, too.
• Offer specific help to a caregiver who may be too overwhelmed to ask.
• Invite someone who has experienced a loss to share a memory of the person they miss.
• Listen to someone whose experience is different from yours, without feeling the need to offer advice.

 

None of these things requires special training. Most don’t cost anything. And you may never know just how much your gesture means.

The woman who brought me that little book probably had no idea I’d still be thinking about it years later.

But I am.

So here’s my invitation for this week: Think of one person who might appreciate knowing they’re not alone. Then do one small thing to let them know.

You don’t have to change someone’s world.

Sometimes, simply showing up can make their world a little brighter.