I could feel her hesitation the moment I spoke those words. Technically, I wasn’t family, and the one person who should have been by her side had walked away without a backward glance.
Six months into my not-quite-sister-in-law’s cancer battle, I was asked to be her primary driver to appointments. I took on the role reluctantly. Like many, I felt lost when faced with cancer—unsure of what to say or do if an emergency arose (whatever that meant made me anxious). In the eyes of his family, I was just the girlfriend—too young and living an uncertain life as a “writer” (whatever that meant—I could see their confusion when I tried to explain). She needed support, and I selfishly questioned why it had to be me.
Yet I recognized that there was no one else available to spare three hours in the middle of the day for her oncology appointments. Her brother, the one I loved deeply, needed me. His sister needed me. So, I went.
At first, our conversations were awkward. Being an introvert, I struggled with small talk. Asking a stage IV cancer patient, “How are you?” felt trivial. What could she possibly say? “Aside from the pain, the chemotherapy, my utter exhaustion, and the uncertainty of my future, I’m fantastic!” Clearly, I needed to avoid meaningless questions.
As I often do when uncertain, I chose to sit quietly, listen, and wait. Those who are uncomfortable with silence often rush to fill it.
Once a week, I would pick her up for our thirty-minute drive to her appointments. It didn’t take long for the initial awkwardness to transform into genuine conversation. We discovered that we had more in common than we initially thought—both single mothers with children spaced over four years apart. She had navigated the single mom life for longer, while my brief experience was thanks to her brother.
We shared stories about our quiet children who rarely listened, those who preferred video games to outdoor play. We exchanged couponing tips and money-saving hacks. We discussed cooking for picky eaters and shook our heads at reckless drivers on the road. We bonded.
Weeks into our routine of doctor visits, she finally opened up about the painful subject of her mother’s abandonment. When her mother walked out, leaving her to cope with cancer, juggling life as a single mom with no car (a whole other saga), and minimal support, I tried to rationalize it. I thought perhaps her mother was in denial, overwhelmed by the unimaginable fear of losing her child. Though misguided, I wanted to see it from her perspective.
But as time passed, my reasoning began to fade. The reality became painfully clear: her mother’s actions stemmed from selfishness. This middle daughter, burdened with frequent oncology visits and battling the challenges of her illness, became too much for her mother. A mother who walked away, leaving two siblings—and me—to pick up the pieces.
I understood that bringing up her mother was never my place.
As my begrudging duty evolved into something deeper, I became more attuned to her condition. I could report back to her brother about her days—she was weaker, she had a good day, she ate, or she didn’t. I became his eyes and ears, alleviating some of his stress as he managed his own responsibilities alongside his sister’s needs.
After countless expressions of gratitude, I responded, “This is what family does.” He is my family, which means she is too. After spending weeks in the car with her, listening to her hopes and fears, I realized she was family—not just because of my relationship with her brother, but for who she truly is. Ignoring her needs seemed unimaginable.
I knew she might struggle to understand my sentiment. If her own mother couldn’t support her, why would I—a 12-year-younger woman with no real connection—step in?
I never revealed that I stood by my father as he took his last breath, or that I never got to say goodbye to my grandparents, both lost to cancer. I’ve experienced the loss of family and the harsh reality that illness often claims lives prematurely. I understand the importance of holding tight to those who truly matter and supporting each other through thick and thin.
Instead, I simply comfort her when she asks, “Why did my mom leave?” I assure her that we would be there for her, and when I include myself in that promise, it comes from my heart.
This experience has transformed my perspective on family, revealing its true meaning.
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Summary
This narrative explores the evolving relationship between a woman and her not-quite-sister-in-law during a cancer battle. Initially seen as just the girlfriend, she becomes a crucial support system through shared experiences, ultimately redefining what family means.