What Happens When We Go Home: Love, Legacy, and Letting Go
The Question That Lingers
What happens when we get to where we are going? This is the question that my dying sister asked me the other night as we lay side by side, crying, smiling, and holding each other.
The question keeps turning in my mind.
What will matter when this short trip in life ends—for any of us? What will we feel, see, and know?
Of course, I have no answers, but I have thoughts—thoughts on the journey that led to this question.
A Journey of Strength and Love
Her cancer entered our world nine years ago when she was first diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer. For anyone who knows anything about this disease, the words “Stage 4” and “nine years” don’t often go together.
As a psychologist, I often hear differing opinions about the language we use to describe illness—phrases like “fighting cancer” or “battling the disease.” Some say this framing can be harmful, adding pressure to an already unbearable experience. But having walked alongside my sister on this long, arduous path, I can say with certainty that there is a fight.
There is fighting.
There is fear.
There is letting go.
There is hope.
There is despair.
But mostly, there is being.
The Fight for Life
Her fight was for life—to absorb every ounce of joy, experiences, and love. She fought fiercely for her family: a husband who adores her, children who anchor her, and grandchildren who fuel her spirit. As her younger sister, I can say with certainty that there was also the fight of a stubborn, strong person unwilling to back down without exhausting every possibility.
Surgeries. Radiation. Chemotherapy. More surgeries. Each time, she won the battle for more time, more birthdays, more chances to hold her grandchildren. She has been courageous and strong.
The Courage to Let Go
And now, courage and strength have become something else. It has become letting go. Saying goodbye. Or, as our grandmother used to say, “So long until we see each other again.”
At the intersection of fighting and letting go, something beautiful has emerged: simply being.
Being in this moment. Being present. Being together.
Her greatest fear is that she will be forgotten.
My greatest fear is that the trauma of her ending—the pain, the loss—will overshadow all the good stuff. The memories of my healthy sister- vacations, weddings, our babies, and sharing stories and experiences with our grandchildren.
But as I sit here with her, holding her hand and feeling the warmth of her spirit even as her body weakens, I am reminded that love is bigger than fear. Her life, her laughter, her stubbornness, her love—all of it—is bigger than cancer. It is bigger than the grief we will carry.
What Happens When We Get to Where We Are Going?
So, back to the question she asked me—What will happen when we get to where we are going?
Maybe the answer is that we simply go home.
But perhaps “home” is more than a final resting place. Maybe it’s a reunion—a return to the love that has shaped and sustained us throughout our lives.
Home isn’t just where our journey ends; perhaps it’s where everything that truly matters in this life converges. A place where laughter exists, the warmth of hugs endures, and eternally lives in the hearts of those we leave behind.
Going Home is not stillness or an end—it is transformation. It’s where the burdens of life dissolve, and we return to a state of belonging and peace. It’s the place where love exists without limits, memories live, and we finally embrace all we’ve always been.
Home is where all we cherish and love doesn’t disappear; it simply changes form, living on in the energy, love, and legacy we leave behind.
That is what I whispered to her.
