I have thought about writing this post a lot; in anticipation of when we get to go home.

As our family has navigated chronic disease over the years, we have learned something that can’t be measured in lab values or scans: there is incredible healing in simply being home.

No matter how sick my brother Ryan was, he wanted to be home. For Samantha, home meant routine. It meant familiar sounds, familiar smells, her own bed, and our family together. We were always at our best when we were home.

So today, I am incredibly happy to write these four simple words:

Cynde is home.

That doesn’t mean home is without its challenges.

Cynde came home on TPN (Total Parenteral Nutrition), which provides all of her nutrition intravenously because cancer has made it impossible for her digestive system to absorb what she needs. TPN bypasses the gastrointestinal tract completely, but it isn’t as simple as hanging a bag of fluids. It requires careful monitoring of blood sugar, electrolytes, liver function, and signs of infection.

Because her digestive system isn’t reliably absorbing medications either, treatments like blood thinners have to be given by injection instead of by mouth. Hence, Pops is giving Cynde a shot 2x a day.

But they are home.

The view outside their windows is beautiful. The sheets are soft. There are no IV pumps chiming every few minutes and no monitors beeping through the night. Home looks different than it did a month ago, but home has a remarkable way of making room for life’s changes.

Pops sent me a picture tonight. Cynde is calm. She’s smiling. She looks comfortable. And right now, comfort feels like the very best medicine.

I also have to give a heartfelt shout-out to their incredible neighbors.

Neighbors showed up last night with a perfectly cooked ribeye steak, mashed potatoes, and several homemade meals—all carefully labeled and prepared with love. It should surprise no one that the ribeye and mashed potatoes disappeared first.

Later, Pops sent a text that perfectly captured the moment:

“I am so happy. I had a great meal from a lovely, unexpected source. Sometimes these times bring out the best in everyone.”

He’s right.

As the daughter, I don’t have the words to thank everyone who has reached out, sent prayers, delivered meals, checked in, or simply loved our family through this.

This diagnosis hit us like a wrecking ball.

To be perfectly honest, we are still grieving the loss of my brother, Ryan. Before we could even catch our breath, ovarian cancer entered our lives. The timing has been overwhelming, and there have been days when it has felt like the ground beneath us disappeared.

But then something beautiful happened…..and continuous to happen….

Our family, our friends, our neighbors, and our community stepped in. Again.

You have shown up with love, phone calls, hugs, prayers, and countless acts of kindness. You have cared not only for Cynde but for Pops, making sure he remembers to eat while he spends every waking moment caring for the woman he loves.

We will get through this. We know we can do hard things.

But it is so much easier when someone is walking beside you, holding your hand along the way.

Thank you doesn’t feel like enough.

But from the bottom of our hearts…

Thank you.

And to home.