He fought for 6 years. He did chemo for 5 years. He did radiation for 4 years. He did everything he could to stay with us. He fought so hard. It’s not fair. He was so good. He was the best husband and father. Even through the hardest times, we could make it through because we had each other. We were happy, even when things were rough. This hurts so much. I never swear, but fuck cancer. He tried so hard.

My little boy lost his daddy. He has started having nightmares, he won’t sleep, and he’s afraid. My husband did hospice at home, and I was holding my son in my arms when my husband took his last breath. My son woke up early that morning and didn’t want to be alone, and I knew my husband didn’t have long, so we sat on the bed with him until he died.

My husband’s body went through a lot, so he couldn’t get sick. We’ve been living in a bubble for the past 3 years due to covid. We worked from home and pulled our son out of daycare. My son has missed out on so much. We made so many sacrifices, and it was all for nothing.

I can’t find a single children’s therapist with availability who accepts our insurance. I feel like I’m drowning and I just want to hug my husband. I want to talk with him. He was my best friend. He helped me feel calm when I was overwhelmed. He was my person. My grandparents all lived into their 80s and 90s, so I might have to live without him for another 60 years. I just want to scream. Everything we’ve worked for means nothing now. My future feels destroyed.