When we’re young, life feels long, like we have all the time in the world. There’s always another opportunity for everything. We don’t appreciate how short life is.
At first, it’s because we don’t understand the concept of time. To a 7-year-old, tomorrow feels like an eternity away.
As teenagers, we start to experience the quickening of time. We look back on the last few high school years and wonder where the time went. But we have hopes and dreams, and the world is at our fingertips, so we don’t worry too much about it.
We spend our 20s struggling to discover who we are. We get lost. We find our way. The passing of time feels scary when we look back on the past few years. We expected to have achieved all our dreams by now, but we’re not even sure what our plans are anymore.
We realize we are getting older, and our family members are, too. Someday, time will be up. We can never know how much time we have left.
We all understand that we’re going to die, but we do everything we can to forget about it.
Even though we know that we are going to die, we make the mistake of living as if we won’t. We act like there will always be another day to say “I love you”, “I’m sorry”, and “Tell me about your life”. We assume we’ll get another chance to do the thing that we’re too scared to do or be the person we’re too afraid to be.
But when you or somebody you love gets sick or dies, you can’t run from it anymore.
In 2023, I thought about death a lot.
Each season dished out another painful reminder that we are all mere mortals:
- Spring: my nana was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease
- Summer: my fiance was diagnosed with cancer
- Autumn: my papa was diagnosed with cancer
- Winter: my papa passed away
Spring
I never met my great-grandmother, but I know that she had Alzheimer’s disease and that there is a genetic component to that. I’ve always been terrified that someday my nana would meet the same fate.
This year, that fear became a reality.
In a way, I had been preparing for this news all my life, but that didn’t make it any easier.
When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time with my nana. She was always telling me stories about her life. English was her second language, so sometimes she’d forget an English word, and I’d help her out.
Lately, though, she’s forgotten English altogether, and my Español is non-existent.
She gets frustrated when I don’t understand her. I can’t blame her. I am frustrated myself, too. I wish I had taken learning Spanish more seriously. It was always on my to-do list, but never at the top. Somehow, there was always something else that was more important.
Now, there is a language barrier between us that prevents me from connecting with her, and I’m constantly beating myself up about it.
Summer
You know when you’re scared of something, so you Google the odds to convince yourself it’s all going to be okay? I do that a lot.
Plane crash? 1 in 11 million.
Tornado? 1 in 13 million.
Car crash? 1 in 101 (yikes).
Cancer in your twenties or thirties? Only a 2.7 per cent chance.
But my boyfriend (now fiance) defied the odds.
Hearing that Tyler had cancer was gut-wrenching. I don’t think anyone is ever prepared for that kind of news.
When I brought him to the emergency room, the thought of a severe diagnosis didn’t even cross my mind. I thought we were too young for something like that.
We were told they’d need to operate ASAP; then they’d be able to determine whether he required any chemo or radiation. They didn’t tell us anything else. We didn’t know how bad it was or if it had spread. It was terrifying. We only had to wait six days for the surgery, but those were the longest six days of my life. We spent the entire time together, waiting & worrying. I don’t think either of us slept at all the night before the surgery.
After they wheeled him into the OR, I sat in the waiting room alone for what felt like an eternity. I brought a book to read, but the words didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Finally, the doctor came out to let me know that everything went well & I could bring him home. I burst into tears.
A few weeks later, blood work revealed that the tumour markers were dropping. The surgery was successful, and it looked like we weren’t going to need to do any more treatments. I’ve never felt so relieved.
We celebrated— his health, our birthdays, and also our engagement! 💍
For a brief moment, life was good… but it didn’t last.
The next round of tests didn’t go as well. Elevated tumour markers and a CT scan told us the cancer had spread to his lungs. It looked like he was going to need chemotherapy after all.
Autumn
My parents don’t call me often, so when they asked to do a family FaceTime call, my anxiety kicked into overdrive.
My dad, usually cracking jokes, broke down in tears almost immediately.
My mom took the phone from him and, tears streaming, broke the news—my papa’s got cancer too.
I felt like my heart was breaking.
…
Thanksgiving was a couple of weeks later, and we all felt this mix of gratitude and sorrow. Life dealt us a bad hand, but there we were—eating, drinking, and laughing with each other.
I wish I had taken a photo of us all together.
Saying goodbye was hard. I wouldn’t be able to see my family again for a few months while Tyler was in treatment. The next time we were all supposed to be together again was Christmas.
The following months were a blur of chemo, responsibilities, and virtual connections.
It was difficult to juggle working full-time with all of the responsibilities of taking care of Tyler, going to appointments and maintaining the home.
If you're going through something similar, I made a Caregiver Notion template to help me stay on top of stuff.
Some days were downright awful. But we all just kept calm and carried on because what else could we do?
Winter
Then, one day, I got a call from my mom. She was crying.
My papa passed away.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I still can’t. I had spoken to him on the phone a few days before, and he sounded like his usual happy self.
I wish I stayed on the call a little longer.
I can still hear his voice so clearly. I miss him so much.
Sentiments
Before this year, I had never known somebody who had gotten seriously sick or died. I thought I knew the value of life, but now I don’t believe I did. I had taken health, people and time for granted. I am now acutely aware of how fragile we are, how short life is and how precious every moment is.
When my mom told me that my Nana had Alzheimer’s, I felt a profound sadness. I have a lot of regret about all the things we never did and grieved the loss of the things we’ll never get to do. I learned that it’s essential to listen and say what is on your mind while you have the chance.
When the doctor told us that Tyler had cancer, I was completely shocked. I didn’t expect someone so young to be faced with such a severe illness. It was a reality check. I realized how important it is to take care of your health because, without it, nothing else matters. I learned that I should be prioritizing quality time with my loved ones. I shouldn’t take anyone for granted. Life isn’t guaranteed to anyone, young or old, and it’s better to live urgently and not be complacent.
When my parents told me that my papa had cancer, I was again forced to reflect on the importance of life. Seeing my dad grieve over his father made me think about how our lives impact those around us. Seeing my papa decide to fight for his life showed me that life remains precious no matter how old you get.
When he died, I experienced death for the first time. I knew intellectually what death was, but I’ve never felt its effects before— the permanence and the abruptness of it knock the wind out of you. It’s very different from other kinds of loss (like a breakup), where you could speak to them if you wanted to but choose not to. When someone dies, you can never hear their voice, or see their smile, or listen to their thoughts ever again. Making time for people and then being present when you’re with them is the most important thing that you can do with your time.
A lot of things happened this year. Most of them sucked. Nobody promised that life would be good, in fact, life is usually filled with struggles. I am lucky that I have amazing people in my life. Even though nothing hurts more than losing the ones you love, loving them makes life worth living.