Watching Death Up Close: A Grief I Wouldn’t Wish on Anyone

To watch death slowly take over the body of someone you love is gut-wrenching. It’s not something you ever truly recover from. And it’s not quick—it’s a process. A cruel, slow, unbearable process that no one should ever have to witness in someone they love.

In just three years, I’ve done it twice.

First, my daughter. My sweet Schuylar. I watched cancer invade her young body and steal her from me, piece by piece. Watching your child disintegrate in front of your eyes tears through your soul in a way that nothing else ever could. It changes you. Breaks you. My heart split in two as I held her through that fight—and then through the goodbye I never wanted to say.

I barely caught my breath after losing her when my mom was diagnosed. Just as I was trying to comprehend my daughter’s death, I became one of my mom’s full-time caregivers. It felt like I was watching an older version of my daughter die right in front of me all over again. The echoes of loss, the same hollowing pain, the same helplessness. It was almost too much to bear.

People tell me I’m strong—and maybe I am—but I’ve never felt weaker than I have these past few years. Watching someone you love suffer and knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it—it’s soul-crushing. There are no right words for that kind of grief.

Unless you’ve sat in it, lived in it, breathed it in every day, you can’t understand what it does to a person. It leaves you empty and aching, forever changed.

All I know is this: love can carry you through the darkest places, but grief leaves a mark. And right now, I’m just trying to find a way to keep standing in the shadow of so much loss.

But I want to be clear about something: I do not carry this pain alone.

My strength doesn’t come from within me—it comes from God. I have clung to Him in the hardest moments of my life, and I continue to. Without my faith, I don’t know how I could have survived any of this. I know I would have collapsed under the weight of the pain. But He has held me up.

Even when my heart feels shattered. Even when the nights are long and the memories hurt. Even when the grief feels like too much—I know I am not alone. I believe God is with me, grieving with me, comforting me, and sustaining me.

I am forever changed by what I’ve gone through. That’s the truth. Grief leaves a mark you never fully heal from. But the one thing that will never change is my faith. It has carried me through the fire, and I know it will continue to carry me, one step at a time.

If you’re going through something similar, I want you to know you don’t have to carry it alone either. There is hope, even in the darkest moments. There is peace beyond understanding. And there is a God who sees every tear and holds every broken piece of your heart.