Cancer Grief and Growth: Processing the Losses and Gains

It has been a whirlwind few weeks.

We’ve just moved from Alberta to Ontario—chaotic but also grounding, as we now live close to the water.

In the midst of this transition, my grandmother passed away. She was one of the strongest women I knew, and her life stretched a full 92 years. At the same time, I’ve been adjusting to a new oncology team and new treatment options. And then, as if personal grief wasn’t enough, the news brought another tragedy: a young man, only 31, gunned down by pure hate and anger.

These moments collide in my heart and remind me of a truth that cancer has already whispered to me many times: life is fragile. We don’t know when our time will be up. Whether it’s decades of living or a life cut short far too soon, the reminder is the same—we are here for only a little while.

The Many Faces of Grief

Grief wears many faces.

• The grief of losing someone you love, like my grandmother.

• The grief we feel as a community when violence steals innocent lives.

• The grief that comes with cancer—losing the certainty of health, a sense of normalcy, or the version of life you once imagined.

Each form of grief asks us to pause, to breathe, to sit with the ache. And yet, in that space, something else quietly emerges.

Growth Through the Pain

If grief breaks us open, growth is what takes root in the cracks.

I see it in the strength my grandmother carried through her life, and in the legacy of love she leaves behind. I feel it in the way a new oncology team gives me fresh hope. And I notice it in the small, sacred acts of kindness—family supporting each other, friends checking in, strangers offering compassion in a world that sometimes feels heavy.

Growth doesn’t erase grief.

They coexist.

But grief becomes the soil from which resilience and new perspective can grow.

Choosing to Live Fully amongst Cancer Grief and Growth

When you live with cancer, you are already reminded daily of the fragility of time. But you don’t need a diagnosis to realize this truth. Whether you have 92 years or 31, the invitation is the same:

• Live fully.

• Share kindness generously.

• Trust that your legacy will be built not on perfection, but on faith, love, and how you showed up for others.

  
  

For me, that means choosing to do the things that bring me joy and wholeness. I’ve decided to go ahead and do what I love: write, help others, create art with flowers, bake bread (@chelseaandrose_co), and give myself the space to heal. (I even did Tai chi with Wellspring, and may start a podcast) These are not just hobbies—they are acts of living, pieces of my legacy, and reminders that even in the shadow of grief, life can be beautiful.

A Gentle Invitation

If you are navigating cancer grief and growth in your own way, I invite you to reflect:

• What lesson do you carry from someone you’ve lost?

• How has grief shaped your outlook on life?

• What small act of kindness can you offer today, as part of your legacy of love?

  
  

Grief is never easy. But even in its ache, it reminds us to live—not just for ourselves, but for the generations and lives we touch along the way.

If you feel like sharing, please share in the comments. would love to start a conversation.

If you are looking for resources on Cancer and some information of navigating it, Click Here.

With Grace and Grit,

Heather