The people who remain

A wedding photo appeared in my Facebook memories. All of us standing on the side of a road in the Southern Highlands, farms behind us, freezing in the wind.

What held my attention this time was our two best men.

Brad chose well.

On your wedding day, you choose the people you want beside you. Only with time do you come to understand the significance of that choice. You remember who stood beside you for the photograph. You learn who will remain beside you through life.

These two men have remained.

One was my best friend. Both have become family. Through thick and thin, their friendship has brought laughter, companionship, generosity and a steadiness we have come to treasure.

We could not have known, standing on that roadside, what the years would ask of us. Perhaps that is part of the tenderness of old photographs. We look back with knowledge the people in them did not yet have.

Since my cancer diagnosis, I have become more aware of how far its consequences reach.

The diagnosis is mine, but Brad has his own journey through it too. A partner lives with the uncertainty, the appointments and the changes to a shared future. They also continue with the ordinary responsibilities of life, even as so much has changed.

That journey deserves recognition. Its private details belong to them.

I am grateful for the people who have remained beside Brad. For friendships established long before cancer entered our lives, and strong enough to make room for everything that has followed.

And there is safety for me in the laughter I share with them both.

I remember laughing with one of them while trying to find a doctor to have a lump checked. Somewhere in that conversation was my familiar “I’ll be right”.

Who would have known.

I look back on that moment with affection, even knowing what came next. There is comfort in being with people who knew you before your life changed. People with whom you can still laugh easily, without every conversation needing to carry the weight of your circumstances.

With them, I can simply be myself.

I value that more than I once understood. There are days when laughter gives me a little room to breathe. An ordinary conversation, a shared memory, something ridiculous… these things still belong in our lives. I am grateful to the people who help keep them there.

And beyond these two men are their families, who we consider our family too.

A parent of one married us. A parent and sister of the other gave me a special religious blessing after my diagnosis. They were also among the first people to see me bald.

I think of the trust held in those moments. Being there as we began our marriage. Being there when I was newly diagnosed and coming to terms with a changed life and a changed reflection.

The safety of them all is magnificent.

There is such peace in being known across the years. In arriving as you are and knowing you will be welcomed. In having people whose love has been demonstrated so consistently that you can rest in it.

Time has made me less concerned with how many people are in our lives, and more grateful for the depth of the relationships we have. The people who keep showing up. Who make room for our family within theirs. Who bring warmth and humour into difficult seasons without needing to have an answer for everything.

This is an open letter to those who may not have considered that partners have their own journey through cancer too. Remember them. Their place beside someone with a diagnosis does not make their own wellbeing any less worthy of care.

It is also a love note to the friends and families who have cared for ours.

Thank you for your love, your laughter, your companionship and your generosity. For the faith you have shared with us. For being lights in some of our darkest moments, and for all the ordinary, happy moments in between.

Looking at this photograph now, I feel grateful for something we could not yet have fully understood on that cold, windy day.

The people beside us would become some of the people who helped carry us.

Brad chose well.

Trent and Alex, Jenn and Nick… we love you and your families. Thank you for being part of ours.