Humility during sickness reveals profound grace and gratitude. When illness strikes, you quickly realize that you can’t do it all on your own—you need others, whether you want to or not. You recognize your vulnerability and choose to lean into it. It’s not easy, it humbles you. For me, humility in sickness shows a deep understanding of how interconnected we all are, and how essential mutual support becomes, especially when we’re at our weakest.
The Loss of Privacy and Learning to Accept Help
I remember her once telling me that cancer stripped away her privacy the moment she was diagnosed. It took so much from her, but the loss of privacy hit hardest. She had always preferred being in the background, but cancer pushed her into the spotlight. She couldn’t hide anymore, and suddenly, everyone knew her struggle. She hated that at first.
I spent countless days by her bedside over the years. I saw her in some of her most vulnerable moments, unable to take care of her basic needs on her own. I can’t begin to imagine how difficult that must have been for someone so independent and private. But she had no choice. She needed to accept the help, and in doing so, she embraced humility. She didn’t want it—she was forced into it. Yet, she handled it with a grace that left a lasting impression on me.
A Day at the Beach: Finding Strength in Vulnerability
One story she shared with me always stands out. It was about a day she spent at the beach with her grandkids. By then, she was well into her terminal diagnosis, and just getting out of bed had become a challenge. Still, she loved the ocean, and she wanted the kids to have a fun day. So, off they went.
She was using a cane by then, and her mobility had become difficult. I remember her telling me how even the boardwalk seemed longer than she had expected, and how the sun drained her energy more than she could have imagined. Breathing had become such a struggle that not long after, she needed oxygen. But that day, despite the difficulty of making it to the sand, she did it. She watched the kids play, relaxed by the water she loved, and cherished those moments.
When it was time to pack up, everyone grabbed something to carry—even Sunshine. She picked up a bag of towels—something light enough that she thought she could manage without losing her balance. Then, it started to rain. In the rush to get everything, her granddaughter noticed that Sunshine was struggling. Without hesitation, her granddaughter reached over, took the bag from her, and said, “It’s ok, Gamma. Sometimes we all need help.”
Embracing the Power of Small Acts of Kindness
That memory stayed with her, not because of how hard the day had been, but because of her granddaughter’s quiet compassion. It was one of those simple acts of kindness that made everything else worth it. Sunshine often spoke about how those small, thoughtful gestures meant more to her than anything else. They reminded her that accepting help wasn’t a weakness—it was an opportunity for others to show love and care.
That day at the beach, like so many other experiences, became part of her story. She taught me that strength isn’t just about enduring illness—it’s about knowing when to let others in, when to allow yourself to be vulnerable, and when to accept help with an open heart.
