We’re on our way to Sarahís cancer treatment. She needs a driver, so I volunteer.

I want to embrace her as I help her into the car. I want to let her know how much I want to be there for her. When she’s effusive in her thanks, I want to say, this is the least I can do for you, Sarah, you’ve done so much for me. Instead I adjust her seat belt and say nothing.

In the car, she tells me, “Everything is in the Hands of G-d, I know, but we need to expend maximum efforts physically and spiritually. So I’ve done my research with the guidance of my doctor and rabbi, and this is the treatment plan they recommend.” Sarah is smiling as she says this. Not because she’s deluding herself. She’s medically knowledgeable, and she knows her prognosis. She simply has faith.

That does not mean she isn’t apprehensive at times. The other night, she tells me as we set off, she was rushed to the hospital for severe chest pains. She thought she was having a heart attack. Turns out it was an anxiety attack. “I’d had a particularly stressful day. I’d gone to two doctors, both of whom had given me discouraging news. I thought I handled it well. After all, I know G-d runs the world, that He hasn’t left it in the hands of doctors.”

I know now is the time for me to say something encouraging. My mind knows what to say but my lips grope for the words. I believe in you, Sarah. You’re being incredibly strong in the face of your challenge. But your anxiety is completely normal. Instead, I ask her about her treatment course, what she had for breakfast that morning.

She answers me. She says she doesn’t know how long the treatment course will be, it depends if her markers go up or down and she won’t find that out for another two weeks, and she had a protein shake for breakfast.

My mind continues to speak to her. I’m available if you want to speak about any worries you have, Sarah. As we continue to skirt the issues, I justify myself. It’s not like we’re talking about things that are unimportant, we’re just not talking about the things that so many people are scared to talk about. We’re not talking about the possibility of death. What that looks like, what that feels like.

None of us know when we’ll take our last breath and none of us talk about it. But then we’re so alone in our fears. I want to reach out across this divide and say, Sarah, I’m open to talking about your fears if you want to, only if you want to. I don’t want you to have to keep them to yourself.

We can discuss what it will be like meeting the Creator of the Universe. What does Judgment Day look like? Is it scary to you? I know I think about these things and they frighten me. Instead, we chat about the healthy ingredients in her protein shake. We discuss the heavy morning traffic.

(Excerpted from Family First, Issue 616)