Losing James was devastating, but it gave me a road map for a better life
I was 18 when I met James. Working at a local supermarket around my studies, I was young, fresh-faced and filled with big dreams. I wanted to move to Australia, write books and carve my place in the world. Coming from a northern English, working-class background, those ambitions often felt out of reach, but when I talked to James, they felt possible.
James was the kind of once-in-a-lifetime friend most people wish they could be lucky enough to meet. He was impossibly funny, unwaveringly kind and in possession of the biggest, warmest heart.
Our relationship was happy and free in the way most are at that age, centred around nights out and pub trips and belly laughs. But our friendship also went beyond the lighthearted stuff. Once, when I was sick and my parents were away, James dropped snacks and medicine off at my door. Another time, I went out in a different city and my purse was stolen. Panicked and with no way to get home, I called the most reliable person I knew. James picked me up, no questions asked. That's just the type of friend he was.
I will always remember the moment James told me he had been diagnosed with testicular cancer.
He'd been silent for a few days – uncharacteristic, given the fact that we texted every day. When he asked if he could come to my parents' house to talk, I said yes.
There, while sitting on the end of my bed, James told me the news.
To say I was shocked was an understatement. While I knew that young people could get sick, I never expected it to happen to someone I knew, and definitely not someone who was so incredibly good. I was confused and angry, but I told James that it would be OK. I knew he wanted to travel to America, New York especially. He wanted to get married and have children. He had a life to live, one that deserved to be wonderful.
What followed was a long battle with many ups and downs. Anyone who has been around cancer knows what a cruel and unrelenting illness it is. James beat his cancer only for it to return and spread. Then, while we were out one night, James stopped me and said that he couldn't feel the left side of his body. The brain tumour was found the next day.
Even in the last moments of James' life, I refused to believe he would die. He couldn't. He was too good, too full of life, too loved. But in my early 20s, I learned the hard way that some people don't get the end to their story that they deserve.
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Sydney Morning Herald
a day ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Losing James was devastating, but it gave me a road map for a better life
This story is part of the July 27 edition of Sunday Life. See all 14 stories. I was 18 when I met James. Working at a local supermarket around my studies, I was young, fresh-faced and filled with big dreams. I wanted to move to Australia, write books and carve my place in the world. Coming from a northern English, working-class background, those ambitions often felt out of reach, but when I talked to James, they felt possible. James was the kind of once-in-a-lifetime friend most people wish they could be lucky enough to meet. He was impossibly funny, unwaveringly kind and in possession of the biggest, warmest heart. Our relationship was happy and free in the way most are at that age, centred around nights out and pub trips and belly laughs. But our friendship also went beyond the lighthearted stuff. Once, when I was sick and my parents were away, James dropped snacks and medicine off at my door. Another time, I went out in a different city and my purse was stolen. Panicked and with no way to get home, I called the most reliable person I knew. James picked me up, no questions asked. That's just the type of friend he was. I will always remember the moment James told me he had been diagnosed with testicular cancer. He'd been silent for a few days – uncharacteristic, given the fact that we texted every day. When he asked if he could come to my parents' house to talk, I said yes. There, while sitting on the end of my bed, James told me the news. To say I was shocked was an understatement. While I knew that young people could get sick, I never expected it to happen to someone I knew, and definitely not someone who was so incredibly good. I was confused and angry, but I told James that it would be OK. I knew he wanted to travel to America, New York especially. He wanted to get married and have children. He had a life to live, one that deserved to be wonderful. What followed was a long battle with many ups and downs. Anyone who has been around cancer knows what a cruel and unrelenting illness it is. James beat his cancer only for it to return and spread. Then, while we were out one night, James stopped me and said that he couldn't feel the left side of his body. The brain tumour was found the next day. Even in the last moments of James' life, I refused to believe he would die. He couldn't. He was too good, too full of life, too loved. But in my early 20s, I learned the hard way that some people don't get the end to their story that they deserve.
The Age
a day ago
- The Age
Losing James was devastating, but it gave me a road map for a better life
This story is part of the July 27 edition of Sunday Life. See all 14 stories. I was 18 when I met James. Working at a local supermarket around my studies, I was young, fresh-faced and filled with big dreams. I wanted to move to Australia, write books and carve my place in the world. Coming from a northern English, working-class background, those ambitions often felt out of reach, but when I talked to James, they felt possible. James was the kind of once-in-a-lifetime friend most people wish they could be lucky enough to meet. He was impossibly funny, unwaveringly kind and in possession of the biggest, warmest heart. Our relationship was happy and free in the way most are at that age, centred around nights out and pub trips and belly laughs. But our friendship also went beyond the lighthearted stuff. Once, when I was sick and my parents were away, James dropped snacks and medicine off at my door. Another time, I went out in a different city and my purse was stolen. Panicked and with no way to get home, I called the most reliable person I knew. James picked me up, no questions asked. That's just the type of friend he was. I will always remember the moment James told me he had been diagnosed with testicular cancer. He'd been silent for a few days – uncharacteristic, given the fact that we texted every day. When he asked if he could come to my parents' house to talk, I said yes. There, while sitting on the end of my bed, James told me the news. To say I was shocked was an understatement. While I knew that young people could get sick, I never expected it to happen to someone I knew, and definitely not someone who was so incredibly good. I was confused and angry, but I told James that it would be OK. I knew he wanted to travel to America, New York especially. He wanted to get married and have children. He had a life to live, one that deserved to be wonderful. What followed was a long battle with many ups and downs. Anyone who has been around cancer knows what a cruel and unrelenting illness it is. James beat his cancer only for it to return and spread. Then, while we were out one night, James stopped me and said that he couldn't feel the left side of his body. The brain tumour was found the next day. Even in the last moments of James' life, I refused to believe he would die. He couldn't. He was too good, too full of life, too loved. But in my early 20s, I learned the hard way that some people don't get the end to their story that they deserve.
7NEWS
6 days ago
- 7NEWS
Best-selling dog supplement brand trusted by over 350,000 Australian dog owners: Mighty Munch
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