There are moments in life that change everything—but watching someone you love slowly decline?
It doesn’t just change you.
It undoes you.
My husband fought stage 4 rectal cancer with everything he had.
He was strong, steady, and full of hope—even when the odds were against him.
But in the final months, something shifted.
The First Signs We Tried To Ignore
About three months before he passed, he started having bladder issues. Doctors said the lining of his bladder was irritated by radiation and that it would heal on its own over time.
So again, we waited and we hoped.
But healing never came.
And that was just the beginning.
The Month Everything Changed
About a month before he passed, he started to fade.
He wasn’t eating as much.
He was more tired.
His spark—the light I loved in his eyes—started to dim.
He wasn’t himself. And I think I knew it, somewhere deep in my soul…but I was in denial.
Because how could this be it?
How could I be watching my best friend slip away?
Not him.
Not us.
One Last Grocery Run
Just a few weeks before he passed, he took the kids on a regular grocery run. It was something they always did together and loved doing. But on this particular day it was pouring down raining.
I remember I was so upset that he went out in the rain while being sick. I told him I could have ordered what we needed. He told me everyone was fine, but he wasn’t. We just didn’t know it yet.
The Beginning Of The End
Shortly after that, his feet started swelling.
He was having shortness of breath.
He went to the emergency room and was told he was showing early signs of pneumonia.
And in that moment—even though I didn’t want to admit it—I knew.
I felt it.
In my bones.
In my breath.
Love In The Final Days
In those last couple of weeks, our love evolved into something quieter, deeper.
Even when he was too tired to talk, we spoke in glances, in touches, in silence.
We talked about the kids.
We talked about the past.
We talked about the future I didn’t want to face without him.
But even in his exhaustion, he was still teaching me about love.
Still showing me grace.
Still holding on.
Faith When Surrender Is The Only Option
I begged God to heal him.
I prayed harder than I ever have in my entire life.
But slowly, I had to shift my prayers from “God, please don’t let him go” to “God, please don’t let him suffer any longer”.
That shift broke me.
But it also became my peace.
Modern Loss helped me understand that faith isn’t just about getting the outcome we pray for — it’s about learning to carry hope and heartbreak together.
Because faith isn’t just about miracles.
It’s about trusting through heartbreak.
It’s about knowing love doesn’t end—it just changes form.
Letting Go When You Want To Hold On
When the time came, I did the thing no wife wants to do.
I gave him permission to rest.
To let go.
I told him the kids would be okay.
I told him I’d find my way.
And even though my soul was screaming please stay, my love for him whispered, “you can rest now”.
That’s what love does.
It doesn’t just fight.
It also knows when to release.
Resources like Option B reminded me that surrender isn’t weakness — it’s part of loving someone deeply and letting them go with dignity.
To Anyone Walking Toward Goodbye
If you’re watching someone you love slowly slip away—I see you.
I know the denial.
I know the bargaining.
I know the moment your heart knows before your mind will accept it.
You are doing the most sacred, painful kind of loving there is.
And when the time comes…you’ll know what to do.
Not because it’s easy—but because love will guide you.
If you’re holding grief or sitting in that quiet space between fighting and letting go, subscribe to my newsletter for weekly comfort and reminders you’re not alone.
