Finding Joy Amidst Childhood Cancer: Our Journey

Beach Days Are Sacred

The beach isn’t just a place for us to unwind. It’s a space where life feels, for just a moment, like it used to — or like it should.

For Finley, it’s the freedom of movement. No IV poles, no sterile walls. Just space. Space to dig, splash, and laugh. For Skyelar, it’s having both parents and their sibling fully present. Not distracted by appointments or schedules. Just there.

For us as parents? It's a deep exhale. A moment where the weight lifts, even if just for a while.

These moments at the beach remind us:

• That Finley is more than an illness.

• That Skyelar is seen, heard, and loved.

• That joy doesn’t need to be big to be powerful.

• That time together — real, unplugged, messy time — is the best kind.

  
  

Glass Siblings: Strong and Fragile All at Once

Skyelar is what many call a “glass child.” This term doesn’t mean they break easily. Instead, it reflects how they are often seen through while everyone focuses on the sick sibling. It’s not intentional. It’s just hard. Medical needs demand attention, and emergencies don’t wait.

But that’s why these small family outings matter so much.

At the beach, Skyelar isn’t a glass sibling. They’re just a kid. A kid playing, laughing, racing waves with their brother or sister. They're not waiting in waiting rooms or sitting quietly while adults talk in hushed tones. They're living — fully, freely, beautifully.

And it’s in these moments that their emotional world is nurtured, too.

We Don’t Complicate — We Celebrate

We’ve made a conscious decision not to over-complicate Finley’s illness. Yes, it’s serious. Yes, we face realities most parents don’t want to imagine. But we also choose joy, wherever we can find it.

• If Finley feels good today? That’s worth celebrating.

• If we can pack up, grab sunscreen, and hit the beach? That’s a win.

• If Skyelar smiles wide because we're all together? That’s a memory to treasure.

  
  

We don’t need grand gestures. What we need — and what we crave — are these little touchpoints of normalcy. These sacred pauses in the chaos.

A Reminder to Other Families Walking This Road

If you're reading this and walking a similar path, please know: you're not alone. While the world might focus on the medical milestones, you know how much those in-between moments matter. Those beach days. That ice cream on the way home from chemo. That belly laugh in the car when you're all singing off-key.

They count. They all count.

And for your other children, the "glass siblings"? These moments are how they understand their place in the story. They may not voice it, but these tiny memories are how they feel connected, seen, and safe.

What We’ve Learned from the Small Stuff

Every wave Finley chases reminds us that courage doesn’t always look like hospital gowns and scans. Sometimes, it's just showing up to life — sandy, soaked, smiling. Every time Skyelar holds Finley’s hand or throws their head back laughing? That’s proof that love grows even in hard soil.

The truth is, none of us know how many beach days we get. So we soak them in, and we hold onto the small things with big hearts.

Before You Go… A Little Love from Us to You

If you’re navigating childhood cancer, chronic illness, or just a hard season in life — don’t wait for the big things. Chase the little ones. Pack the car, forget the perfect plan, and go make a memory. You don’t have to fix everything. You just have to show up — fully present, heart open. That’s where the healing begins.

FAQs

Q: What is a “glass sibling”?

A: A glass sibling is a term often used to describe the siblings of children with serious illnesses. The term reflects how they’re often “seen through” or overlooked, even though they carry a huge emotional load.

Q: How do we support siblings during a child’s cancer journey?

A: Small acts of attention, one-on-one time, honest conversations, and including them in family moments — like beach trips — can make a world of difference.

Q: Is it okay to feel joy during cancer treatment?

A: Absolutely. Joy is not the absence of pain, but the presence of love and connection. It’s not just okay — it’s necessary.

Let’s Hold Onto the Small Stuff

Life doesn’t always give us control over the big picture. But we can choose how we fill the frames. So let’s keep chasing the waves, taking the drive, making the mess, and celebrating the now — for Finley, for Skyelar, and for all of us trying to find beauty in the hard places.

If you found comfort or connection in this post, consider sharing it with another family who might need to hear they’re not alone.