About a year ago, my literary soulmate, Bridget, who had moved away, was struggling. A close friend of ours, Julie, was facing a cancer recurrence, and the prognosis was grim. Torn about returning for a visit, she recalled a quiche she had once made that Julie had loved—it was the only thing Julie could eat and actually taste. So, I offered to help.
“Send me the recipe,” I told her, “and I’ll make the quiche and deliver it for you.”
A couple of weeks later, I found myself at Julie’s doorstep, quiche in hand. I rang the doorbell, and after a few moments, she opened the door. Her appearance startled me. I knew she had lost her hair, and she looked very thin and fragile, but there was still this glow about her, a radiating light that was undeniably her essence. She was always the life of the party, always brimming with positivity, always ready to go, to travel, to embrace life’s adventures. Despite the shock I felt, I managed to keep my composure.
She welcomed me in, and I presented her with the quiche. We chatted for about fifteen minutes. She shared her journey, her current state, and the outlook. I fought back tears as I listened.
This was the same woman who had welcomed me to the neighborhood when I first moved here, inviting my family and me to join a kickball game in the park. Even then, she had been battling cancer, briefly recovering before it returned. Her warmth and enthusiasm were infectious, and from that moment, I knew we were destined to be friends.
After we had lived in the neighborhood for a year, we decided to throw a party. Julie arrived with her usual radiant smile, lighting up the room. As the evening progressed, she shared a heartfelt revelation—this gathering was also a celebration of her first year in remission. In that moment, I felt a deep sense of destiny, as if our paths were meant to cross. We stood together, surrounded by friends and laughter, sharing in the joy of her milestone. I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be, celebrating this incredible triumph with her.
Despite everything, she lived each day with joy and excitement, embodying a spirit that inspired everyone around her.
A week after I delivered the quiche, she sent us both a text saying we were still feeding her, accompanied by a picture of the quiche. A few weeks later, she passed away.
Bridget, who was thankful for the quiche delivery but devastated by our friend’s passing, never made the trip to visit. She struggled with the loss, having survived a breast cancer diagnosis herself.
In one of our routine text messages, she shared news of her own: her cancer had returned, and she would be starting treatment the following week. She had known for weeks but didn’t share, knowing I was dealing with another situation involving a close friend. While I appreciated her thoughtfulness, I was disappointed she had waited to tell me.
I sent a text to another close friend, Molly, asking if she would be at the end-of-year sports party. Her response shocked me: she was in the middle of cancer treatments and too weak to attend. Embarrassed by my ignorance of her journey, I vowed to support both of them every step of the way.
A few months into the journey, Molly celebrated the ability to walk to and from the mailbox without losing her breath. Bridget spent the summer visiting family. Their strength reminded me of the preciousness of life and the importance of how we choose to live it. It also made me realize the value of honoring the friendships we’ve built. While we may not always recognize it, some friends are only with us for a season or a couple of seasons. This might be because we were meant to walk a particular journey with them, be it as a close friend or a supportive acquaintance. These friendships, no matter how long they last, are essential chapters in our lives, teaching us to appreciate the moments and the connections we share.
I often find myself wrestling with doubts about how I’m living my life, caught up in criticism rather than gratitude. I forget to honor the life I have and the wonderful people in it, overlooking the little and big things I can do without a second thought—things like not worrying about treatments, effortlessly catching my breath, feeling the sun warm my face or the breeze play with my hair. I overlook the simple yet profound blessing of waking up each day, able to get out of bed on my own and embrace the day ahead.
These incredible women embrace every moment from the time they wake up until they rest their heads at night. They are my heroes, and I hold them dear in my heart, mind, and soul. Their unwavering strength and grace are a daily inspiration, shining brightly even through the darkest battles. Despite their struggles, they rarely, if ever, complain. Instead, they stand ready to lend a helping hand or offer a compassionate ear.
Witnessing their journeys has taught me to cherish the smallest of moments. To honor every second of every day that’s been given to me.
I’ve learned to appreciate the life I have, understanding that we never truly know what another person might be enduring. This profound realization has instilled in me a sense of patience and kindness, reminding me to treat every encounter with the gentleness and respect it deserves.
Honoring their fortitude has become a vital part of my journey. I’ve learned to take my thoughts into account when making decisions, ensuring that my choices reflect my values, desires, and needs, rather than succumbing to external pressures or expectations.
These remarkable women have shown me what it means to live with honor and grace, and for that, I will forever be grateful.
Tina Huey is a mom of two fantastic kids and wife of her hero, who also happens to be an incredible dad and husband. She is an avid reader, and a life long learner. She enjoys exercising. She loves to laugh—to find the ridiculous in adversity. She is passionate about life and living it to the fullest, being the best version of herself, and helping others in a positive way so we can all make this world a better place.
It sounds like your friends have faced cancer honestly and bravely. I have come to believe that facing life’s challenges (illness, death, divorce, job loss, etc.) from a place of reality and grace can lead to deep healing and growth. Leaning in, instead of resisting, can lead to seeing the blessing in any hardship. Thank you for sharing.
Tina – thank you for all you have brought to our Red Tent. Your perspective on life, your generous and open spirit, your deep love for words, writing and women are a gift. You are a woman who knows what it is to be a good friend, your stories have invite us to be the best version of ourselves.
I am sorry you and your friends are struggling. Cancer is so mean. I am grateful to be a five year survivor.
Thank you for this reminder of truth, of the brevity and sacredness of this one life we have been given, of the importance of showing up as faithful friends. 🩷