Hi A,

First of all, I'm so incredibly sorry that you are going through this right now. It's such a brutally tough road, and there's no training for how to walk it.

My father died of Stage IV metastatic colon cancer four years ago last month; this coming weekend marks four years since we buried him, actually. Though my memory of that time is strangely patchy—I'm otherwise someone with a freakishly good memory, but October 2018 is just this weird splotchy haze—I do remember spending a lot of time on the phone with friends (my father had to relocate to a hospital away from either of our homes for treatment, so I didn't have any friends physically in that town). I'd go for walks between hospital shifts, and talk for 30-45 minutes with a varying rotation of friends. I think I was trying not to overburden any one person, as I seem to recall not actually talking with any single person more than once or twice that entire month, but I do recall those walks and those long conversations where they just let me let it out. I think I also remember offering to have these calls while they were driving between places, so it wasn't a whole hour out of their day for which they were only sitting on the phone with me.

But I did have a lot of conversations like that, and they really did lift my spirits; because my mother and sister were going through the exact same thing I really couldn't talk it out with them, and of course I'd never have burdened my Dad with my feelings when he was in that state. I also had friends who couldn't really do phone calls but were happy to read and receive long texts from me, journal-like texts for which I just poured out my feelings; they'd usually send heart emojis back, sometimes would let me know they appreciated me sharing, but I never expected them to write back in full, and perhaps I didn't really want them to, as I wouldn't have had the mind to really process it anyway.  

I will say that there are a lot more people in your community who want to be there for you than you realize, and it's not actually going to be the ones you expect. If you put it out on a couple of your group chats, for example, that you're going through this with your mother and would love a chat, I *guarantee* that someone is going to reach out with a virtual hug and a suggestion of a few times to talk—maybe even a few people. I learned with Dad that so many people just don't know what to say or how to say it in times like this, and so freeze up and don't say anything; but when you put out a specific request, like "I'd love to chat sometime, going through this with the kids especially is a lot" you'll be surprised at how many people will jump at that chance to meet your specific need. Hopefully you already have folks who've offered to help watch the kids for a few hours—maybe even a couple of angels who have offered overnight stays so you can spend longer stretches with your mother while your husband is out working and such—but I imagine there will be folks who would be glad to offer that, too. 

Finally—you're not losing time with your mother by feeling these feelings. You are guaranteed to feel them; it just is what it is, because your brain is trying to help you make sense of what's happening and what's coming. It's a perfectly natural thing, and you're not wrong or weak for grieving her in advance. I know I did with Dad. Your work now, then, is figuring out good places to release those feelings so that they're less intense in the moments you do have with her. With me and Dad it was those phone calls and texts with friends; for you, especially with small children, you may need to find other additional ways to take the pressure off that fit in with your life schedules. If your husband struggles to handle your emotions, for example, maybe you can ask him to restructure his time in the coming weeks so that more of it is spent caring for the kids, giving you more time for the kind of self-care and emotional connection you need in this painful final period with your mother, even giving you more time with your mother outright. 

Again, I am so sorry you are going through this. Cancer is just the most awful thing. A true thief of time. Wishing you and your family the very best XX

Hi A,

First of all, I'm so incredibly sorry that you are going through this right now. It's such a brutally tough road, and there's no training for how to walk it.

My father died of Stage IV metastatic colon cancer four years ago last month; this coming weekend marks four years since we buried him, actually. Though my memory of that time is strangely patchy—I'm otherwise someone with a freakishly good memory, but October 2018 is just this weird splotchy haze—I do remember spending a lot of time on the phone with friends (my father had to relocate to a hospital away from either of our homes for treatment, so I didn't have any friends physically in that town). I'd go for walks between hospital shifts, and talk for 30-45 minutes with a varying rotation of friends. I think I was trying not to overburden any one person, as I seem to recall not actually talking with any single person more than once or twice that entire month, but I do recall those walks and those long conversations where they just let me let it out. I think I also remember offering to have these calls while they were driving between places, so it wasn't a whole hour out of their day for which they were only sitting on the phone with me.

But I did have a lot of conversations like that, and they really did lift my spirits; because my mother and sister were going through the exact same thing I really couldn't talk it out with them, and of course I'd never have burdened my Dad with my feelings when he was in that state. I also had friends who couldn't really do phone calls but were happy to read and receive long texts from me, journal-like texts for which I just poured out my feelings; they'd usually send heart emojis back, sometimes would let me know they appreciated me sharing, but I never expected them to write back in full, and perhaps I didn't really want them to, as I wouldn't have had the mind to really process it anyway.  

I will say that there are a lot more people in your community who want to be there for you than you realize, and it's not actually going to be the ones you expect. If you put it out on a couple of your group chats, for example, that you're going through this with your mother and would love a chat, I *guarantee* that someone is going to reach out with a virtual hug and a suggestion of a few times to talk—maybe even a few people. I learned with Dad that so many people just don't know what to say or how to say it in times like this, and so freeze up and don't say anything; but when you put out a specific request, like "I'd love to chat sometime, going through this with the kids especially is a lot" you'll be surprised at how many people will jump at that chance to meet your specific need. Hopefully you already have folks who've offered to help watch the kids for a few hours—maybe even a couple of angels who have offered overnight stays so you can spend longer stretches with your mother while your husband is out working and such—but I imagine there will be folks who would be glad to offer that, too. 

Finally—you're not losing time with your mother by feeling these feelings. You are guaranteed to feel them; it just is what it is, because your brain is trying to help you make sense of what's happening and what's coming. It's a perfectly natural thing, and you're not wrong or weak for grieving her in advance. I know I did with Dad. Your work now, then, is figuring out good places to release those feelings so that they're less intense in the moments you do have with her. With me and Dad it was those phone calls and texts with friends; for you, especially with small children, you may need to find other additional ways to take the pressure off that fit in with your life schedules. If your husband struggles to handle your emotions, for example, maybe you can ask him to restructure his time in the coming weeks so that more of it is spent caring for the kids, giving you more time for the kind of self-care and emotional connection you need in this painful final period with your mother, even giving you more time with your mother outright. 

Again, I am so sorry you are going through this. Cancer is just the most awful thing. A true thief of time. Wishing you and your family the very best XX

Hi, this is also the first time I have ever written into a forum but I relate to this thread so much. My mum is 66 and has metastatic bladder cancer, mum was only diagnosed 8 months or so ago and originally we thought she would be cured but at every turn we just got more and more bad news until we landed here. 
She is currently in hospice care but we all know our time is now very limited and I'm struggling to comprehend life without my mum, I honestly can't imagine a world without her. I'm 32 with three young girls who don't really understand what's going on and sometimes im just in auto piolet getting through the days but other times I feel this crushing feeling where the reality hits me and I go back to not knowing how I'm going to cope. 
sorry that was all a bit rambly, but I'm right there with you in what you're going through, and I see you. 
 

x