My friend stopped replying to my messages.

I thought she was busy. Maybe I'd upset her. I kept texting anyway, waiting for a response that never came.

Then her daughter called. Her mum had cancer. She'd been battling it alone for months whilst I was sending cheerful updates about my day.

I felt gutted. Not because she had cancer, but because I had no idea how to help. Should I visit? Would that be intrusive? What could I possibly say?

I asked to see her. We couldn't make it work. Two weeks later, she died.

I still carry that regret.

Cancer is more than a medical diagnosis

Here's what nobody tells you: a cancer diagnosis triggers grief.

Not the grief that comes after death. The grief that starts the moment someone hears those words: "You have cancer."

It's the grief of losing:

• Your sense of safety in your own body

• Your identity (you're now "the person with cancer")

• Your future plans (holidays, work, retirement)

• Your energy for everyday life

• Your belief that tomorrow will be okay

There are over 40 life events that can produce feelings of grief and loss. Cancer is one of the biggest. Yet we rarely talk about it this way.

We focus on treatment plans, survival rates, and staying positive. All important. But we skip over the emotional earthquake happening inside the person who just found out their body betrayed them.

Why supporting someone with cancer feels so hard

When my friend's daughter told me about the diagnosis, I froze.

I wanted to help. I genuinely did. But every option felt wrong:

Visit? She might not want company.

Call? What if she's too tired to talk.

Send a card? That feels inadequate.

Drop off food? Maybe she can't eat right now.

So I did nothing. And that was worse than doing the wrong thing.

Here's the truth: supporting someone through cancer is difficult because we're concerned about making it worse. We worry about saying something insensitive. We don't want to be a burden. We assume they have enough support already.

But silence hurts more than imperfect words.

What cancer grief actually looks like

Cancer grief doesn't follow a neat timeline. It doesn't wait until treatment ends.

It shows up as:

• Withdrawing from friends and activities

• Anger at people trying to help

• Complete exhaustion (not just from treatment)

• Struggling to make decisions

• Loss of interest in things that used to matter

• Feeling like a burden

If you're supporting someone with cancer, understanding this changes everything. Their behaviour isn't personal. It's grief.

The biggest mistakes people make

I've made every one of these mistakes when people I know were dealing with grief:

Disappearing after one message. Saying "I'm here if you need anything" then waiting for them to ask. They won't ask. They're too tired or too overwhelmed.

Comparing their experience. "My aunt had breast cancer and she's fine now." Every cancer journey is different. Comparisons make their pain feel dismissed.

Toxic positivity. "Stay strong!" "You've got this!" "Everything happens for a reason." These phrases shut down real emotions. They need permission to feel scared, angry, or sad.

Avoiding the topic. Pretending everything's normal doesn't help. It makes them feel invisible.

Trying to fix it. Suggesting diets, supplements, or positive thinking implies they're not doing enough. They need your support, not your solutions.

What actually helps

Here's what I wish I'd done differently:

Show up consistently. Not just once. Weekly check-ins. Even if it's just a text saying "Thinking of you today."

Offer specific help. Not "Let me know if you need anything." Try: "I'm going shopping on Tuesday. What can I pick up?" or "Can I walk your dog this weekend?"

Make space for real feelings. Say: "It's okay to not be okay" or "This is really hard" or just sit with them in silence.

Remember the small things. Cancer takes over everything. Ask about their day, their favourite TV show, anything that reminds them they're still a person beyond their diagnosis.

Keep showing up after treatment ends. Everyone rallies during chemo. But grief often hits hardest when treatment stops and life is supposed to "return to normal." Except it never does.

What to say (and what not to say)

I created a free guide because I wish I'd had this when my friend was diagnosed.

Never say:

• "I know how you feel"

• "Everything happens for a reason"

• "At least they caught it early"

• "You should try [insert unsolicited advice]"

• "Time heals all wounds"

• "You've got to be strong for…"

Try saying:

• "I'm so sorry you're going through this"

• "I don't know what to say, but I'm here"

• "How are you managing today?"

• "Would you like to talk about it or just have company?"

• "What would help most right now?"

Supporting yourself whilst supporting others

Here's something nobody tells you: watching someone you love battle cancer affects you too.

You might feel helpless, guilty for being healthy, exhausted from the emotional strain, or scared of losing them.

This is normal. You can't pour from an empty cup. Look after yourself whilst you're showing up for others.

What to do next

If someone you know has cancer, here's where to start:

Text them today. Use this: "I've been thinking about you. How are you managing today?" Don't wait for the "right time."

Put a reminder in your calendar to check in with them weekly. Grief doesn't follow a schedule. Neither should your support.

Download the free guide I created because I wish I'd had this when my friend was diagnosed. It's called "5 Things Never to Say to Someone Grieving (Plus What Actually Helps)" and includes word-for-word scripts for those difficult conversations when you don't know what to say.

The guide covers:

• Exact phrases to use (and avoid) in different situations

• How to offer practical help without making them ask

• What to do when they push you away

• How to support yourself whilst supporting them

• A printable reference card you can keep in your phone

Get your free copy here →

The truth about cancer and grief

Cancer isn't just a battle with a disease. It's a grief journey that starts at diagnosis and continues long after treatment ends.

My friend died without me getting to say goodbye. I'll always regret that. But I've learned something important: showing up imperfectly is better than not showing up at all.

Your presence matters more than perfect words. Your consistency matters more than grand gestures.

This World Cancer Day, let's widen our understanding of grief. Let's learn how to show up for people when they need us most. Let's create a world where no one faces cancer alone.

Download the free guide and keep it somewhere you can find it quickly when someone you care about needs support.

Together, we can make a difference.

For more resources on supporting someone through grief or understanding your own grief journey, visit handling-grief.com