In the aftermath of my husband's death, my friends bought me potted plants. I promptly returned them — unable to contemplate caring for another living thing. Fourteen years on, what would it mean to use my credit at the florist?
At my daughters' concerts and school performances, I see all the happy grandparents, snapping photos and bearing flowers. That's when I feel my own mother's loss most acutely.
Between the time we decided to stop treatment and the time my baby son died, I felt desperately alone — pulled between my ‘cancer family’ still fighting to save their children and the bereaved families on the other side of this battle.
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