This Is Us
The Grief We Share When We Lose a Child to Cancer
What happens when the pediatric oncologist runs out of ideas
We remember everything vividly — the appointments and phone calls, the bedside chats and furtive hallway conversations. We remember the look on the pediatric oncologists’ faces right before they told us what we never believed we’d hear.
We remember, as if it happened yesterday.
“I’m sorry. There’s nothing more we can do.”
We remember the handoff to palliative care, the last wishes, the goodbyes.
We remember picking out gravestones and urns, writing eulogies, and seeing their still faces for the last time.
No matter how many years pass and milestones our other children reach (or not), or how many gray hairs we’ve accumulated as we age and age and age — we remember.
We hold the burden of knowing that no one — not even us — could save our babies.
We try to cope, though coping is a hollow notion when you’ve buried your child.
We form foundations to help fund research and support the newly diagnosed. We connect in support groups and read books about parental grief. We turn our profile pictures gold each September even…
