As National Cancer Survivors Day approaches, I’ve been thinking about survivorship.
Most people hear the word “survivor” and think of someone who has completed treatment and is living beyond a cancer diagnosis. And rightly so. Surviving cancer is something worth celebrating.
But after walking alongside my husband John through his cancer journey, and later becoming involved in patient advocacy, grief support, and end-of-life care, I’ve come to believe that survivorship takes many forms.
Cancer changes everyone it touches.
Recently, I’ve found myself reflecting on the people who showed up for me after John died. Looking back seven years later, I can see things differently than I could then.
When we are facing one of life’s most difficult seasons, we often assume our closest friends will know exactly how to help. The reality is more complicated. The people who love us want to help, but they don’t always know how. They may not understand the depth of the loss, how long grief lasts, or how much support is needed after everyone else has returned to their normal routines.
What surprised me was that some of the people who seemed to understand best were those who had experienced profound loss themselves. They didn’t necessarily have perfect words. In fact, they often said very little. But they understood what grief felt like because they had walked through it. They knew that healing wasn’t measured in weeks or months. They knew that some losses become part of us.
When I think back to John’s diagnosis, I am grateful for the support he received from friends and family. John was an easy-going, fun-loving person who had a gift for maintaining friendships throughout his life. People cared deeply about him, and they showed up.
They visited. They called. They checked in. They sat with us through uncertainty.
Did everyone always know the right thing to say? No.
But I’ve learned that showing up matters far more than saying the perfect thing.
During treatment, we would occasionally hear a bell ring in the cancer center. It signaled that someone had completed treatment. Every time it happened, we were happy for that person and their family. They had reached a milestone worth celebrating.
As time went on, though, those moments became more complicated for us.
We were beginning to understand that John’s cancer story might look different. Even if treatment was successful, he might require ongoing care for the rest of his life. And eventually, we learned that his path would not lead to the outcome we had hoped for.
Those experiences taught me something important: cancer journeys are not all the same.
Some people survive cancer.
Some survive years of treatment and uncertainty.
Some survive caregiving.
Some survive the loss of the person they love most.
And many survive because other people walk beside them.
In the years since John’s death, I’ve often thought about the people who helped me survive. Family members who understood. Friends who continued checking in long after the funeral. Support groups filled with people who truly “got it.” Communities like PIVOT, Gilda’s Club, and hospice grief programs that helped me find purpose, connection, and hope again.
None of those people took away the grief.
But they helped carry it.
They reminded me that I wasn’t alone.
This National Cancer Survivors Day, I’ll be celebrating cancer survivors and the strength it takes to navigate life after a diagnosis. I’ll also be thinking about caregivers, family members, and those grieving someone they love. Cancer leaves its mark on all of us, and each person’s journey is different.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:
We don’t survive life’s hardest experiences entirely on our own.
We survive because someone calls.
Someone sits beside us.
Someone listens.
Someone remembers.
Someone stays.
And sometimes, that makes all the difference.
