Cancer sucks

Sitting in this parking lot outside the cancer center, waiting on my aunt…

and my mind is just quiet.

Not empty — just humbled.

Because what do you even say on a day like this?

I keep praying,

“God, give me the words.

Or just let my presence be enough.”

She’s been hit with wave after wave this year —

burying her husband on Easter,

two surgeries to cut the cancer out,

and still trying to walk into this appointment by herself.

Not on my watch.

Not while I’ve still got breath and keys and a heart that refuses to let her carry this alone.

I think about all those years growing up,

how close we’ve always been,

even when life stretched the miles and the months between us.

I’m not always the best at checking in,

but when life gets heavy like this?

I show up.

Period.

I might not have the magic words to ease her mind,

but I can sit with her,

talk old stories,

remind her that Jimmy is still here in spirit,

and hold back my own tears long enough to be her strength today.

God… I need You in this room with us.

Guide my mouth, steady my heart.

Don’t let me say the wrong thing.

Wrap her in Your comfort — the kind only You can give.

Be in the medicine, the machines, the hands of every doctor.

Let this treatment be gentle.

She’s carried enough this year.

She’s tired, Lord.

Give her strength for this step.

Give me the grace to walk beside her.

Amen.