The important stuff in life

This blog normally focuses on getting back into fitness after surviving breast cancer. However, for the past year our family has had to deal with the other side of the breast cancer coin, after my sister-in-law Sarah's breast cancer spread; something I haven't felt able to write about until now. This post is written to two of my wonderful nieces and my equally wonderful nephew, who are dealing with the loss of their incredible mother two weeks ago.

Lucia, Fletcher and Lillian: here's a quote from The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George about grief. It sums up what it was like when I lost Mum (eight years ago this weekend) and I hope it can help you to know that things will get better. I wanted to show it to you when we were together, but you know what I’m like with the whole uncontrollable crying thing (it would have been inevitable) so I’m doing it from a distance instead.

“…grief showed me what’s important in life. That’s what grief does. In the beginning it’s always there. You wake up and it’s there. It’s with you all day, everywhere you go. It’s with you in the evening; it won’t leave you alone at night. It grabs you by the throat and shakes you. But it keeps you warm. One day it might go, but not forever. It drops by from time to time. And then, eventually ... all of a sudden I knew what was important – grief showed me. Love is important. Good food. And standing tall and not saying yes when you should say no.”

Your Mum knew what was important – I think she always did, even before she got sick. And when she learned the worst, that the cancer had spread, I remember she told me that she asked the nurse: “What am I going to do?”  The nurse told her: “You’re going to go home and live.” Your Mum told me it took her a week or two to process the message, but that’s what she did – she went home and lived. And even when the treatments were tough, she often found a way to laugh.

Grief, they say, is as individual as a snowflake so I can’t know what you’re feeling. But I can say don’t rush your grief; let it keep you warm while you need it. If your experience is like mine, eventually you won’t need it so much and it’ll be a sometimes visitor. I can say for sure that, like me and my sister, you’re going to be faced with an anniversary that is forever linked to bloody Daffodil Day. At first I found that a nightmare every August. I unwillingly faced Daffodil Day promotions everywhere I looked, but after a time that too got easier (and you guys know more than most what a good cause it is, despite how painful a reminder it is every year).

I feel sad that you’re learning how hard life can be at such a young age, but it's likely to make you stronger and even more empathetic to others going through tough times. It will also mean you, like your Mum, will know what’s really important in life: the love of family and friends, laughter, good food, walks in the sunshine, walks in the rain, board games (little family joke there), doing stuff that makes you happy and being with people who make you smile ... the simple things in life that cost nothing. I look forward to being with you soon eating good food and laughing. We might even fit in a board game? Love you guys.