Every time I lose a friend to cancer I am torn between grief and a sudden rush of relief,  as though I had been holding my breath in a futile and desperate attempt to add my strength to their effort. 

Then there are the tears. The sudden realization that my friend is gone, and does not need me anymore. I can breathe freely when I think of them. 

Those of us who watch are in the stands of a horrible show, filled with tension, holding our breath and wanting the tragedy to end differently this time. Wanting the curtain, just this once, to come down with the hero on the other side. 

It rarely happens, but maybe that’s our part. Maybe the hope we have is some kind of reservoir for the protagonist to draw from. I don’t know.

I hate this show. I’ve seen it too many times, and I know I’ll see it again.