Out of unimaginable grief, Janet discovered that sharing her truth didn’t just help her heal; it connected her with someone who truly understood. In life’s hardest seasons, sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is the courage to say, “ I’m not okay,” because in that honesty, we create space for connection, healing, and even new beginnings.
When Adam was diagnosed with glioblastoma in 2016 at just 47 years old, his wife Janet’s world shifted in an instant. Glioblastoma, the most aggressive form of brain cancer, gave him only an average of 15 months to live. One moment, they were planning their future together, and the next, they were fighting with the reality that his time would not be cut heartbreakingly short. The shock rippled through their family, friends, and community; no one could quite process the news.
As Adam’s caregiver, Janet faced challenges she never imagined. Suddenly, she was navigating endless appointments, medications, consultations, and medical jargon while still keeping their household running for their children.
The physical and emotional exhaustion was relentless. Caregiving didn’t end when the appointments did; each day was a balancing act between being a nurse, a mother, and a partner watching her loved one fade. Friends often avoided talking about Adam because death felt too uncomfortable, and Janet herself sometimes felt like she couldn’t share the weight she was carrying.
Yet, through the Brain Tumor Foundation of Canada, she found a glimmer of support in community programs that made her feel less alone. The hardest period came near the end of Adam’s life, when hope for recovery was gone and all that remained was the painful process of watching him slowly slip away. In February 2020, Adam passed, and while Janet’s family and friends surrounded her with love, she still longed for someone who truly understood the unique grief of losing a spouse to glioblastoma.
Unexpectedly, that connection came through a casual acquaintance who introduced her to Sheryl, a widow in Montreal who had lost her husband, Ira, to the same disease just months earlier. Tentative texts between two strangers soon blossomed into a deep friendship. Both women were young widows, both mothers, and both had watched their husbands, men in the prime of their lives, be taken far too soon. They didn’t have to explain the complicated mix of sorrow, exhaustion, resilience, and guilt that often accompanies this kind of loss.
They simply understood each other. Through late-night conversations, laughter, and the shared journey of rebuilding their lives, Janet and Sheryl became anchors for one another. Sheryl often described their friendship as a gift that brought courage and positivity as they carved out the following chapters of their lives.
Janet’s story is one of love, loss, and the unexpected beauty that can come from sharing pain openly. Early in their journey, an elderly neighbor told her, “Don’t tell people it’s okay. It’s not okay. It is a dumb thing to tell others. Don’t tell people you’re okay.”
That blunt wisdom stayed with her, reminding her that honesty in grief and struggle is not only brave but necessary. It opened the door to authentic connections, like the one she found with Sheryl, that would not have been possible if she had pretended everything was fine.
Her experience powerfully reminds us that when facing a personal challenge, whether illness, loss, or life upheaval, being open about your struggle creates room for support, empathy, and even unexpected friendships. Sometimes, by sharing your story, the right people walk into your life and help you carry the weight you thought you had to bear alone.
