Life has a way of bringing us into seasons that feel almost impossible to carry. In the middle of grief, illness, or transition, it can be hard to find the silver lining—let alone feel grateful. In this powerful guest piece, Christine Kriner invites us into her deeply personal journey of walking alongside her mother during her final weeks with pancreatic cancer.

What she shares is not just a story of loss, but of presence, of love, and of finding beauty even in the most uncomfortable moments. Her words remind us that gratitude doesn’t always come right away—and that sometimes, simply allowing ourselves to sit with the uncomfortable is its own sacred act.

I hope you take a moment to read and reflect on her story. It’s one of those pieces that lingers, reminding us of the resilience of the human heart and the quiet beauty woven through even the hardest goodbyes.

_________________________________________

When people talk about hard seasons of life, they often remind us to “be grateful.” But when you’re in the middle of it, gratitude can feel out of reach. That’s how it was for me when my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

Suddenly, life became a daily race – managing the immediate crisis while bracing for the ultimate one. I found myself holding on to control, only to be reminded again and again that the only thing I could truly control was how I responded to what each moment brought.

The uncertainty was relentless – new timelines, sudden trips back to the hospital, never knowing what the next 12 hours would hold. In those weeks, I couldn’t tap into gratitude. What I did feel was the weight of the uncomfortable – wanting each crisis to end, but also not wanting it to end because I knew what that would mean. But even in that space, I began to recognize something else.

That this experience was both deeply painful, and deeply beautiful.

✨ It was beautiful to be there for my mom unconditionally in her last weeks.

✨ Beautiful to feel the unconditional love of my friends and support system, who showed up for me without hesitation.

✨ Beautiful to reconnect with people I had lost touch with, who stepped in to share in this grief so I didn’t have to hold it alone – reaching out with kind words and showing up when I thought they might be lost.

✨ Beautiful to see hospice and the caregiving team surround my mom with gentleness, compassion, and dignity.

✨ And, most of all, beautiful – though heartbreaking – to sit with her for hours, just the two of us, as she took her last breaths and slowly transitioned from this world to the next.

Now, in the after – closing her accounts, sorting through her belongings, letting go of pieces of her life – the uncomfortable is still here. Every step forward is hard, because it means facing the truth of her absence. But here’s what I’ve learned: Sometimes gratitude comes later. Sometimes what we have to do first is simply sit in the uncomfortable, allow ourselves to feel it fully, and trust that the beauty hidden in those moments will reveal itself in time.

The uncomfortable is where love and loss live together. And somehow, that space – though painful – is sacred.

Love,