Several weeks ago, a friend reached out and used the word I have come to despise.
Cancer.
I read a bit more of what was written, and I set the phone down, screen still bright. I was in a place packed with noise and strangers. A place I had visited only once before. A place where a path was not always apparent. The one thing in this large room that was a constant to me was my sister.
I had been silent for a few minutes, as we were both checking our phones and grabbing handheld lunches. My quiet must have touched her as different, as she asked, “What is it?”
I said, “Cancer.”
She knew it wasn’t a cancer of my own, and she knew to say little and to briefly touch my shoulder.