Over the past month, something else has shown up: community.
I’ve had a village of people in Dayton and beyond step in and carry us in ways that have been both practical and deeply emotional. I wanted to share what has helped us most, because chances are someone in your life will face serious illness at some point and many of us genuinely want to help but don’t know how.
We often say, “Let me know if you need anything.” I’ve learned that while it’s well-intentioned, it puts the burden back on the person who is already exhausted. The truth is, I don’t know what I need right now. I’m tired. I’m emotionally and physically spent. Most of all, I don’t want to feel like an imposition so when you ask me what I need I usually say nothing. The biggest help has come from people who simply did things.
Here are some of the ways my friends and family have shown up, and why it mattered so much:
- They sent groceries and household essentials. My family and friends stocked our pantry and sent grocery deliveries. When they weren’t sure what foods or snacks we liked, they sent household basics like toilet paper, paper towels, trash bags, and laundry detergent. These are the invisible things that keep a house running, and normally that mental load is mine. Not having to remember we’re out of toilet paper might sound small, but in a season like this, it’s enormous. They have helped keep our house running when I could not.
- They sent meals. This has been a true lifeline. Some friends who know our dietary restrictions sent home-cooked meals. Others sent DoorDash or food delivery gift cards, which have been priceless on nights when my husband simply doesn’t have the energy to cook, or even reheat something. Feeding your family when you’re in survival mode is harder than people realize. One friend went above and beyond by stocking our fridge and prepping multiple crock-pot freezer meals. These “dump and go” dinners have been a gift on nights when decision-making feels impossible.
- They helped with simple tasks. Friends and family have shown up in so many quiet ways. Illness and surgery have complicated my life making simple tasks difficult and overwhelming. Having someone to help drop off mail, pick up clicklists, even braid my hair and help fold laundry have eased my burden. One friend helped chart my daily meds and set alarms on my phone so I didn’t have to think about what to take when. These small acts have carried me more than they probably realize.
- They thought about our child. Several friends sent things specifically to occupy and distract our daughter — crafts, games, little surprises in the mail. When a parent is sick, kids feel it, even when you try to shield them. Giving her moments of joy, normalcy, and distraction mattered more than I can put into words. Others went a step further and picked her up for a day of fun so I could fall apart if I needed to. Those hours gave me space to cry, rage, scream, or simply rest without worrying about being “okay” for her. That kind of help is priceless.
- They checked on my husband, too. One of the most meaningful things people did was ask how he was doing. Caregivers carry a quiet, heavy weight, and he is walking this road right alongside me. He is supporting me, parenting, working, and holding everything together. Those who checked on him, encouraged him, and saw his pain made him feel less alone, and that helped our whole family.
- They made us laugh. Cancer is heavy. Sometimes unbearably so. Friends who showed up with humor, who made me laugh, sent ridiculous texts, or brought lightness into our home gave me moments of relief when my mind desperately needed a break. One moment I’ll never forget: my best friend put on an entire karaoke production with my daughter. Music, performances, costumes, big energy, the whole thing. It distracted my daughter, entertained me and cracked through the darkness in a way nothing else could have. It was exactly what I needed, even though I wouldn’t have known to ask for it.
- Let me cry, rage, scream. So many people are not comfortable with the word cancer. It makes them anxious, quiet, unsure of what to say. They rush to soften it and wrap it in optimism so they can breathe easier. My favorite friends are the ones who let me feel all the feelings without trying to spin them to something happier. They didn’t try to redirect me toward gratitude or tell me everything happens for a reason. They didn’t ask me to be strong for their comfort. They made space for the mess and sat with me while I fell apart.
If someone in your life is facing cancer or serious illness, I hope this lists helps you to be more prepared to support them. I’ve learned that love doesn’t always look like big gestures.
Often, it looks like groceries on the porch, a child laughing in another room, or someone seeing the people who are holding it all together. In this season for our Gem City Family that kind of love has made all the difference.
This column is by Pamela Chandler, a local mom who writes about motherhood and family. Reach out to her at thechandlercrew3@gmail.com.
About the Author
