🌱 Love and other drugs

Here’s your 3 insights in 3 minutes.

✈️ In Plane Sight

Five years ago, my stepdad Dan was diagnosed with kidney cancer.

But a few weeks ago, everything shifted.

We went from planning a final family trip in the mountains…to planning end of life care at home.

In hospice terms, we shifted from cure to comfort.

So I hopped on a flight back to Indiana to help. From organizing a Notion doc of to-dos, to resetting passwords, to just sitting with family.

Notion doc I started organizing

I’ll be real with you, I want to put some insightful take away here, but I also feel like we're still in the middle of it.

Grief doesn’t always fit neatly into bullet points.

😎 Walk N’ Cry

When I first heard the update, I felt emotions rising.

My therapist once asked how I was feeling about Dan’s cancer.

I said: “Maybe some future grief.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Future?”

Ha, he’s good. Turns out, grief isn’t something you can schedule. One day last week I grabbed my shades, put on a sad song, and let some out on a walk. A good old walk n’ cry! It felt like a nice release I didn’t know I needed.

You can’t think your way into grief. You can only feel your way through it.

💙 High On Love

Dan’s on 15+ prescriptions right now (not including the $100k worth of chemo meds we had to dispose of).

But his strongest medicine hasn’t come from a pharmacy. It’s been the love from people showing up.

One friend fixed the garbage disposal. Another brought a backup generator for Dan’s oxygen. Countless showed up with food. Reminds me of one of my favorite lines from Jalen Rose:

“People will bring flowers to your funeral but won’t bring you soup when you’re sick.”

So if you have someone you love who’s struggling—don’t wait. Don’t say, “Let me know if you need anything.” Just show up.

Send your love. Drop off soup.

In the end, love is the most powerful drug of all.

Dan’s on the back patio right now, guitar and harmonica in hand, singing Tom Petty.

I’m going to join them.

Keep dancing,
Mitchell