It wasn’t COVID this time; It was cancer and a car accident – what’s worse?
I’ve been sitting and reflecting on the things that happened in 2024. When I think about it, I tend to compare it with 2020 for the level of difficulty it carried. To speak the truth, there have not been easy years since the pandemic hit us worldwide. Personally, I don’t think the question is what’s worse, but rather, what do we take from the past to create our present? This is how my past year was and how it’s shaped my life now:
1. A friendship that transcends
In life we meet people to whom we connect in a way that’s difficult to explain. One of them, in my life, is called Camilo. He was more than a friend—he was my brother from another mother. We were kindred spirits who met during our youth, and over 10+ years of friendship, that bond grew into a brotherhood. In April, life decided that our friendship was going to transcend and take a different shape. My dear friend Camilo passed away in a car accident in Wales. Losing him felt like losing a part of myself. The news shattered my world, leaving behind an emptiness I’m still learning to navigate.
In the months that followed, I found myself replaying memories of him, cherishing our conversations and moments that once felt ordinary but now feel irreplaceable. Grieving from a distance, without the comfort of mutual friends or a shared space, made the pain feel isolating. Camilo’s absence has left a void, a reminder of how fleeting and precious life truly is.
2. Straddling Two Lives
Barely a month later, in May, my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. Before the diagnosis I flew back to Colombia to be with her, she was hospitalized at the end of March and as the days were passing we really didn’t know what was going on in her body. The only thing we knew is that the doctors found a lump in her left lung but not very certain it was cancer. I felt like I needed to be there with her and my family, trying to provide her with as much strength and support as I could. Being there felt right and necessary, but it also left me conflicted. My life in Copenhagen didn’t pause. Responsibilities and commitments lingered, even as my heart stayed with my mom.
Returning to Copenhagen felt like I was abandoning a part of myself. My mother’s diagnosis became a constant weight I carried, no matter where I was. The distance made it harder to cope, turning every phone call and text into a lifeline that tethered me to her, but also to the reality I had to face.
3. When the Body Says No
By October, the weight of everything—losing Camilo, my mom’s illness, and the mounting pressures at work—became too much. My body shut down. I was forced to take a two-month sick leave as stress and anxiety took over.
This period was both a breaking point and a revelation. For too long, I had pushed through, telling myself to be strong, to keep going. But with time I learned that being strong doesn’t mean to hold on to all the cracks that were there, growing wider with each passing day and to live life as if nothing was happening.
Taking time off felt like admitting defeat at first, but it turned out to be an act of self-preservation. Those months gave me the space to breathe, to feel, and to start piecing myself back together.
4. A New Light in Our Lives
Not everything in 2024 was about difficulties and pain. The body also yearns for excitement. I went to Berlin with my girlfriends, I took a short business trip to Spain that gave me the chance to drive around two cities I’ve never been before, I had the opportunity to visit my family in Colombia and create memories with them.
One of the most remarkable and beautiful moments of 2024 is when my husband and I adopted our dog, Ollie, on July 5th in Copenhagen. It felt as though he was sent by the universe to help us through this challenging time. Ollie has been a source of joy and stability, bringing routine into our lives with his boundless energy and goofiness.
During my sick leave, Ollie was pivotal. He gave me a reason to get out of bed, even on the hardest days, and his playful antics made the weight of life feel a little lighter. He’s not just our pet; he’s become a lifeline, a reminder of the beauty and comfort that can be found even in the darkest moments.
5. Connecting the Broken Pieces to Build a New Perspective
I am not going to lie to you. The year 2024 was a year of brokenness—broken plans, broken hearts, and broken routines. But as I reflect on all that’s happened, I’m starting to see those pieces not as irreparable shards but as parts of a mosaic. The pain doesn’t vanish, but it reshapes. It finds its place in the bigger picture of who I am becoming.
Camilo’s absence taught me to cherish connections more deeply. My mom’s battle is showing me the strength of love across distances. And my time away from work reminded me that I am human, that rest and care are not just luxuries—they are necessities.
I carry the weight of these experiences, but I also carry their lessons. In the broken pieces, there is beauty. In the darkest moments, there is light. And in the quiet reflection, there is hope. I wish us a healthy, joyful year ahead. Whatever that looks to you. In my case it would be a hope for freedom to let go of expectations and to continue developing the ability to live in the present.
One day at a time.