Losing someone is hard. Losing them young to illness is really hard. Young people don’t get sick and die do they? Of course not. My heart wants this to be true but my head battles. Rattles around the name of all of those dearly departed and gone too soon.

Watching someone you love be sick is hard. Probably not as hard as being sick yourself, or losing someone you love. People you love and help support can’t be sick and you can’t be helpless, can you? Of course not. My heart wants this to be true but my head battles. Rattles around the list of things that I can’t do anything about while my love is in pain, tired, struggling through the next round.

Hearing of someone dying of what your loved one has is hard. He couldn’t have died of the same thing around the same age as my love, could he? Of course not. My heart wants this to be true but my head battles. Rattles around the facts of his life – his age, race, nationality, diagnosis, stage, progression – looking for similarities and differences in statistics that I can hold on to.

My head tries hard to reason my heart out of feeling all the feels. Sorrow. Heartbreak. Fear. Gratitude. Fear. Grief. Fear. Hope. Fear. He is gone too soon. We have scans next month.