In the intricate dance of life and death, we often find ourselves swaying between moments of profound connection and the stark reality of loss. My name is Eddie Solien, and today, I'm navigating this delicate balance as I face the impending loss of my Aunty, who is currently in palliative care at home. This journey, marked by the presence of severe heart conditions and a tapestry of health challenges in my own life, has profoundly shaped my understanding of strength, resilience, and the power of human connection.

Living with heart failure, left ventricle dysfunction, atrial fibrillation, Auto Immune Pancreatitis, and Type 2 Diabetes, I've become intimately familiar with the fragility of health. Yet, it's in the context of my Aunty's battle with cancer that I find myself confronting the fragility of life itself. Cancer, with its indiscriminate cruelty, has a way of overshadowing the vibrancy of the human spirit. Yet, even as it casts a long shadow, it also illuminates the depth of our relationships and the resilience of our love.

I am not religious, but I am deeply spiritual. This spirituality does not provide easy answers or assurances; rather, it offers a lens through which to view our connections and our departures. It's in this spiritual space that I find the strength to stand beside my family, to support my cousins, and to be present in the pain, the laughter, and the memories that bind us together.

The anticipation of loss is a heavy burden, one made all the more challenging by the nature of waiting. Waiting for the inevitable, waiting for relief, waiting for the moment we must say goodbye. Yet, it's in this waiting that we also find moments of profound meaning and connection. True to my heritage and the communal spirit that defines both Torres Strait Islander and Papua New Guinean cultures, I turn to the act of making food as a way to relieve stress and to express my love and support. Cooking becomes a meditative act, a way to nourish the body and the soul amidst the heartache.

My relationship with my Aunty has always been one of playful banter and deep mutual respect. We give each other so much grief, yet beneath the surface of our teasing lies an unbreakable bond of affection and understanding. It's a relationship that exemplifies the complexity of love – the ability to laugh together even in the face of pain, to support each other through every challenge, and to cherish the moments of joy amidst the sorrow.

Cancer fucking sucks. It's a stark reminder of our mortality and the impermanence of our existence. Yet, it also serves as a poignant reminder of what truly matters – the connections we forge, the love we share, and the impact we have on each other's lives. As I navigate through this difficult time, I am reminded of the importance of being there for one another, of holding space for grief and for healing, and of celebrating the lives of those we love, even as we prepare to let them go.

In this journey through the shadows, I am learning that the essence of spirituality lies in our capacity to love deeply, to support unwaveringly, and to cherish the moments of light that shine through the darkness. As I stand beside my Aunty and my family, I am reminded that, in the end, it's the love we share that endures, transcending the boundaries of life and death.