When my husband was diagnosed with cancer we weren’t yet settled in our new community. While we’d lived in the house through half of the pandemic, we didn’t really get to start meeting people properly until 2 years ago and then boom! cancer.
Neither of our families lived in the community and so other than a couple of friends we knew well we had mostly what I would call acquaintances – hellos/how are yous at sporting events and schools, etceteras – who collectively circled around us with love and hugs and support of all kinds upon learning what we were facing. It was beautiful.
Stephen and I were so grateful for each message of support received via the site and texts and at all the kid’s things. Sometimes it was hard not to be in tears but people just understood and gave space.
As we were getting toward the end of all the treatments, we starting talking about throwing a big party with celebrations and thank you’s to each and every person who had reached out over the previous year. I looked for venues, played around with what would feel most authentic for us both and that people would enjoy. I wrote a heartfelt speech to deliver for all the other mothers who really became rocks for me through the journey.
We never had the party though. We thanked people as we saw them, wrote words on the site, and tried to repay in kind the myriad of help offered to us. But a party didn’t feel right. A celebration seemed like it would taunt the cancer-devils. My husband was quietly alive and we were grateful beyond words. And thank you didn’t begin to cover our feelings toward the community that supported us. Truly, it just didn’t seem like enough of a word to do justice to sparing us from soul-crushing awfulness alone. But we do thank each and every person that has been part of our journey.
Foxley Manor
Manor Musings 
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