Every Holiday, A Milestone: My Sister's 11-Year Cancer Journey

As the new year began, I reflected on 2026 being the first year my sister will be alive to fully experience. My mind returned to 2014, when she was hospitalized at Thanksgiving, when she feared she wouldn’t see 2015. Throughout her cancer journey, my sister used upcoming dates as motivation. After her diagnosis on July 11th, she immediately asked her oncologist if she would live to see Christmas. He reassured her that she had years ahead of her so long as treatments worked, and he was fairly certain she would be around for Christmas. This cycle continued until her death on July 1st, 2025. She always fixated on the next holiday as a source of motivation.

The holiday season was one of the few times through the year that life felt normal when we were growing up. My sister and I cherish memories from the 'ber months—September to December. These memories, in turn, shaped how my sister counted time while she fought cancer. She focused on specific events. Looking forward caused her FOMO as she battled cancer. Over her nearly eleven-year illness, she spent so much time hospitalized that it resulted in being unable to celebrate several holidays at home. She spent one New Year’s, several Valentine’s and St. Patrick’s Days, three Easters, four birthdays, three 4th of Julys, two Halloweens, and one Thanksgiving in the hospital.

Through all this, I tried to bring her holidays, gently reminding her that even if not at home for these milestones, she had met them. Still, I knew this offered limited comfort. She was diagnosed at just 27, and I know how difficult to was for her to wonder how much time she would have. A lot of my sister’s thoughts when hospitalized where wondering when she would get to go home. But I know that a lot of her worries were about surviving until the next holiday season, her birthday, if she would see flowers bloom again in spring, another fall where the leaves would change, or the first snow of the winter season. Sometimes, being date-focused helped motivate her. As her caregiver, I saw the psychological toll this took. Her psycho-social team also noticed, and we encouraged her to avoid fixating on dates, but she maintained this habit from 2014 until her death in 2025.

It nearly goes without saying that I wish my sister had not been diagnosed with cancer at all, and I certainly wish that she was still here as opposed to having succumbed to the disease. And although I cannot change happened, I do think that my sister’s death may have occurred at the best possible time for her peace of mind. Though her health declined throughout her final year of life, she was at home for every major holiday in 2024. She saw New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, and her March 14th birthday in 2024 at home. By the time the 4th of July 2025 approached, she was in hospice care and not fully aware of the calendar. It was months before the 'ber months’ began, so she was likely not yet looking forward to those dates. Perhaps this reflection is my way of rationalizing her death. Still, I choose to believe that, even amid suffering, there was a measure of mercy as her pain eased near the end.

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