Finding My Spark: All the Lost Memories

As I lay in the hospital, I can’t help but think about all the moments I’ve missed — the ones that quietly slipped away while cancer treatments pressed pause.

The last Ocean City trip with friends — the laughter, the salt air, the feeling of being free.

Nights out with friends and their kids — just relaxing, talking, laughing, being part of the simple rhythm of life.

The first day of school I couldn’t be there for — no outfit pick-outs, no styled-up hair, no hugs at the door before the day began.

Now, Halloween. The night that used to light up my world with animated decorations, painted themed pumpkins, costumes, and hayrides. I loved to take their pictures and watch them run from house to house in all their candy joy.

It’s strange how the greatest losses aren’t always things you can touch or measure — sometimes, they’re the memories you never got to make.

Lying here, I feel the weight of that. But I also feel a flicker — a reminder that my story isn’t done. Maybe finding my spark isn’t about going back to what was, but about learning to find light in what is to help fuel me to be at the next moment.

Because even from this hospital bed, I’m learning that strength isn’t found in what we’ve lost — it’s in how we keep showing up, even when the world looks different than we imagined. I still mattered and contributed and played a hand. I still called and FaceTimed and complimented and aided. I have been there year after year to ensure it mattered then and promised to be at the next one.

The spark isn’t gone; it’s just changing shape — becoming something stronger, brighter, and more enduring.

And as I take each breath, I know this: the memories I’ve missed will never define me — the hope I hold onto will drive me to better days ahead.