Losing a sister to cancer

Losing a sister to cancer

Well to put it to you bluntly, it stinks.

Cancer Poems

Some days are easier than others. I am constantly thinking about what we would be doing if she were still around. Causing trouble, giving our parents more gray hairs, and planning our weekend parties; I am sure that is what we would be doing.

To be honest, she would have had this essay written, typed, double spaced, and work checked in about 20 minutes! She was a literary genius. Losing a sibling is really hard some days. Sometimes you have to be strong for everyone else but yourself. But you learn to find time for yourself. As life turns its many curves in the road, you find that there are many events that you wish your brother or sister were there with you.

This has been my most difficult challenge. Birthdays, holidays, and weddings are just not the same.

losing a sister to cancer

But you learn to adjust. On the other hand, there are many things that I have learned from such a big loss. I always try to keep strong during my weakness. My sister Josie battled a brain tumor, chemotherapy, and many other obstacles. She always had great strength, and she was never weak or one to give up. She always rolled with the punches and never sweated the small stuff. I have learned a great deal from her philosophy, and I use it in my everyday life. She has taught me more than she will ever know.

For me, losing Josie has changed my life in a huge way. On a final note: Josie, if you are reading this up in heaven with all your angel girlfriends, please forgive me for all the grammatical errors.Skip to Content. Grief is a normal response to the loss of a brother or sister. Regardless of the type of relationship you had with your sibling, you have the right to grieve. Family members and friends may not understand the role your sibling played in your life.

So it is important to communicate to them that you need their support. The loss of a long-term relationship. Siblings are often deeply connected with each other. So their death may represent the loss of a friend, protector, and confidant with whom you share many memories. You may grieve the loss of your past relationship and the role you pictured your brother or sister playing in your future.

Sibling relationships can be complicated. They may involve love and affection as well as rivalry, jealousy, and arguments. You may feel guilty about things you once said or did. Or you may regret that you did not maintain a closer relationship. You may also replay "what if" and "if only" scenarios in your mind.

Or you may experience "survivor guilt," questioning why you were not the one who died. Learn more about coping with guilt. The redefinition of your role in the family.

Family members have different, sometimes unspoken, roles and responsibilities that may change when a sibling dies.

To My Brother, Who Lost His Life To Cancer

You may take on new responsibilities, such as becoming the oldest child or an only child to whom family members look for leadership. This change can cause you to feel more stress or resentment during the grieving process. A fear of developing cancer. Because you and your siblings share many of the same genes, it is normal to worry that you could develop cancer as well. You may also be concerned that other family members will be diagnosed with the disease.

Although cancer can run in families, most cancers are sporadic, meaning they occur by chance. Learn more about collecting and sharing your family cancer history. Everyone copes differently with the loss of a sibling. There is no right way to work through your feelings of grief. And there is no specific amount of time that it takes to recover from those feelings.

The following tips may help you throughout the grieving process:. Share your grief with other family members. Your entire family is grieving the loss of your brother or sister. But each person grieves in his or her own way. Talking about your shared grief can help you work through your pain and sadness together.

Find support outside your family. It can be helpful to seek support from your family. But it can also be hard for some family members to provide consolation while coping with their own grief. Consider talking about your loss with people outside your family, such as a close friend, a clergy member, or a grief counselor. Support groups can also provide a setting to talk with others who share and understand your experiences and feelings.Monday, 25 September Losing a sister to cancer.

My sister and I used to laugh when we imagined ourselves as two little old ladies, putting the world to rights. It seems impossible to think that will never be.

losing a sister to cancer

In July my lovely sister died of cancer. She was years-old, and an amazing, funny, strong and beautiful person. She was my best friend. For me, most of that time was spent in denial.

She was right. But then I was hoping for a miracle. Reality hit with an enormous thud earlier this year. Miracles melted away. A scan followed, and after several torturous hours we were told the cancer had spread to her brain. But while she was having the radiation, she also had her regular scan on her liver. The results from that scan revealed there was nothing more they could do.

My heart seemed to tighten when the news came. But I still thought we had time. More time. Precious time. We had no idea how soon it would be. But the doctor was concerned that her skin had started to yellow. My sister began to feel so tired, but the medical staff thought it could be the radiation causing that. So we stayed ever hopeful that we had longer. Her liver was failing. She moved in with us, and we thought we would have months together, but everything happened so quickly.

Six days later she passed away. I try to tell myself that we shared three happy years after diagnosis. That we were lucky to have had so many happy times together where she did all the things she loved doing.

And, of course, I have memories stretching back to when we were children. But I felt far from lucky. Before she died, she promised she would find a way of telling me she was OK. She told me exactly where she would leave a white feather.

The day after she died there was a feather in the exact spot she said there would be one.We know that this is an especially worrying time for people with cancer and their family and friends. We have separate information about coronavirus and cancer. Please read that information alongside this page.

We will update that information as guidance changes. Read about coronavirus and cancer. My life has been totally shattered and turned upside down. Truly heartbroken. Sorry to learn of your sister's death. You don't say how old you both were but whatever the age sisters generally have a special relationship; alll kinds of secrets shared when younger; somebody who totally understands you.

As the years go by it is sad to lose anyone with whom you had a connection - another depressing sign of time's passage but the loss of a sister - with the same shared memories and knowledge - really must hurt. I hope you have other family around who will support and try to help you. Sending u hug take care. Sending you a hug.

losing a sister to cancer

Keep strong! Do you feel angry? I lost my sister to pancr. About 7 years ago. Still not over it. When it happened I used to punch walls and punch my legs to deal with the anger I felt inside. So unfair. Wish my sister had been a little less awesome, had she been an awful sister it wouldn't hurt so much. I'm so sorry.

No More Crying: Julia Gardner's Cancer Story - Cincinnati Children's

My sister was 49 when she passed and I was so angry that she was take. So young.Cancer, the dreaded "C" word. It has become such an epidemic in our society that people are loath to even mention its name. Cancer is a disease that can affect many different parts of the body. Some of these diseases are more serious than others. It is not only the disease that is painful but also the many way of treating it. Radiation treatments may kill the cancer but are also dangerous for the body.

Chemotherapy comes with many side effects such as hair loss and severe nausea. The many faces of this disease challenge an individual to show their fighting spirit and will to live. To be brave is to cry But still to fight on, And that's what you did, Our hero, our son.

Read Complete Poem. I am so sorry. My great grandma died from cancer and so did my grandma. It must've been so hard for you. I can't imagine what you went through losing your son. I'm so sorry for your loss. Some weeks ago through medical doubt I met someone I'd heard lots about I never thought our paths would cross Our meeting left me at a loss. I just love this poem. I have lived through so many of these phases, as though I was the one writing it. My name is Sharon Gross. Read complete story.

What would you do in 5 short years? Would you make them the most or hide from your fears? I have 2 really good friends who were diagnosed with cancer. It sucks. One girl was only 9 years old and fought. She won, but now has to take therapy. When I lay there beside you, Could you feel me there?

losing a sister to cancer

My arms were wrapped around you, And I was stroking your hair. My mother got cancer when I was 8. She survived and was in remission for a year, but when I was 12 she was diagnosed with cancer again. This time we all knew she would die, when she told us IGrief is hard. Knock-you-down depressing. My sister, Marie Maddox, died of cancer on August 7. Her daughter, son-in-law, longtime companion and I were at her side in the emergency room when she died, holding her hands, kissing her cheeks and telling her we loved her, up until she took her last breath.

Her death was far from peaceful—physically painful for her and difficult for us to witness. But I was glad I could be there for her at the end, as she has always been for me.

She's not the first loved one I've lost, but she's the first I've watched die. I don't know if that's why her death hit me harder. Or maybe it's because she was the last living person who had known me since the day I was born. Or because we were so close. Or because I watched her struggle.

Or because I know she wasn't through living. I've struggled with coming to terms with her life and death and my grief. Words cannot describe my sister. Those who try use words and phrases like larger than life, caring, compassionate, adventurous, bold, friend to all, generous, loving, inspiring, strong-willed, determined … the list is long and multifaceted. And now, she's gone. She's no longer around to laugh with me, cry with me, encourage me or share family stories with me.

Sometimes all the good memories comfort me and make me smile. But other times grief comes in waves: When a text pings, and, for a moment, I think it's from Marie. When I see a beautiful sunset and want to take a picture and share it with her.

When illness hits, and I want a shoulder to lean on.I n August, my younger sister Lucy died. She was only 32 years old and the light of our lives. We knew it was coming, not quite as quickly as it did, but she had advanced cancerso her days were numbered.

As soon as the cancer reached her brain, it was game over. Grief, as we all have heard, comes in waves. They come as you stand in the fruit aisle of the supermarket, looking around you, wondering how the hell anyone can manage to get on with life when this terrible thing has happened and suddenly, from out of nowhere that train comes hurtling at you. It feels as if someone has sucked out everything you have — your guts, your heart, your oxygen, your whole being. Of course the Brit in you remains still and stoic as the train does its thing before pulling away, and you continue filling your trolley with Granny Smiths.

You live in fear of that. I only spoke to my parents, my husband and to my three-year-old. Job number one was to explain to her that her beloved aunt was dead. No easy feat. I can barely remember it. I came up with a nonsensical story of her now being an angel, and a star in the sky and that whenever the sky was pink in the morning, it meant she was saying hello. Now, whenever the sky is pink, my daughter shrieks up to the sky excitedly. But it was all I had at the time. After Lucy was told she had cancer, it was the last time she and I ever looked at each other in the eye.

We avoided that. I know she felt the same. We knew that if we ever locked our gaze, that the tears would never stop. So it was better that way. Now I regret that, I regret not grabbing her and looking at her, deep into her soul, and telling her how much I admired her bravery.

I know she knew, but did she actually know? The first is just silly. The second not so silly. I was never one who feared death, really. I mean, I knew it would come, I just assumed it would be when I was an old lady, and I was fine with that.

Now, I have a fear, in fact utter terror, not so much of death, but for what happens after death to the people who remain. The life change that happens to those people the minute they find out that their loved one is going to die. This experience for her was, I think, the worst of all of it. She never wanted us to be sad. But we are — so, so utterly filled with sadness.

Actually, I can get through the days. My biggest amazement and awe in all of this is the wonder of the human brain. The kindness of it, that it allows you a few hours, sometimes three or four hours in a day or night, where you are all right. Where you laugh, smile, make a meal, play with your kid … you just are allowed to be OK sometimes and I thank the brain for that. Allowing us a little slice of time-out from the horror that surrounds us.

What haunts me, more than anything, more even, than her not being here any more, is the thought of the fear she faced alone. From 3 March until the day she died, she faced the worst thing any person could ever face. She looked death in the eye and it never let up.


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