A story about grief's roller coaster

Written March 2, 2023

Day 9 of 40 in a 45-day period: My sophomore year at Maryland my journalism class final was to write a feature story. My cousin Becca (on the left) had passed away almost a year before after a six year battle with brain cancer. As the anniversary of her passing was approaching, I asked my aunt, Maureen, if I could interview them.

Despite being old enough to understand that cancer was serious, and watching Becca fight an incredible fight over those years, I didn’t grasp the gravity of her fight for a long time. I think this was due to the way she and her family lived their lives and being witness to this from the outside. I heard about and followed Becca’s treatments and surgeries and then would see her at our family functions smiling her trademark smile, wearing her sunflower hat and doing a lot of the same things I was doing. Of course she was going to be okay. It wasn’t until I was in college that I realized Becca might not go to college too, despite how strong she, and her family, were in my presence.

When I went to their house they shared how things had changed since Becca’s passing. Maureen remarked that when Becca was fighting cancer, the family was on the same timeline. They knew when the next scan was, the new treatment plan, the date of her next surgery. This mostly linear path allowed everyone’s emotions - while not the same - to mostly follow a linear path too.

In grief, nothing was linear. The expectations of what was to come were gone and now everyone was left to their own emotions to try to navigate grief. They talked about how someone would find themselves having a really good day and someone else would be drowning. It was like everyone was on a roller coaster, but not the same one and not at the same park. There wasn’t a clear end to the ride.

I’ve thought about that conversation a lot over the years and shared it with my aunt when we got together at Christmas. She didn’t recall the conversation the same way I did yet knew exactly what I was talking about. With her permission I get to share it with you, in the hopes it can invite another way to think about fights and grief, smiles and sunflowers, and the power of talking about hard things.