By Stephanie Stene
When I think of the quote “time doesn’t dictate the impact of a friendship,” I automatically think of Angie. She entered my life on December 4, 2024, and she physically left earth on July 11, 2025.
Her time with me was short, but I cherished every minute of it. The day she passed will always be a heavy day for me, but through my grief I have learned that just because someone isn’t with you anymore, it doesn’t mean they can’t be with you in a different way.
I first met Angie at the Young Adult Cancer Canada (YACC) Survivor Conference in Toronto. We were the only female reps from Saskatchewan. At first we bonded over our love and hate for our province, but after sitting with each other throughout the conference, we started bonding over having terminal and incurable cancers. We then started realizing how many similarities we had, and slowly the friendship went from two girls that both have cancer to two prairie girls that genuinely liked spending time with each other.
“Slowly the friendship went from two girls that both have cancer to two prairie girls that genuinely liked spending time with each other.”
My first memorable memory with her was when Angie, her husband, and I left the restaurant on the last night of the conference in search of Sweet Jesus Ice Cream. I gave her the idea, and they both jumped on it. We walked 20 minutes before we walked into a place, and the workers said, “Sorry, man, people come in here all the time looking for that place, but it’s not here.” We were all defeated but still determined to get ice cream. We happened to stumble upon a place that did serve ice cream eventually. We laughed the whole way back to the hotel that night. We felt like we were on the Amazing Race looking for this ice cream, and even though we never found it, we made the best of it.
The adventure turned into a memory of laughter instead of a memory of ice cream. I still have yet to eat it, but I know when I do end up finding Sweet Jesus Ice Cream, I will think of Angie and that night of laughter.
When we got back from the conference, we talked daily about everything and nothing. She was the only person in my life who understood the brain fog, the fatigue of appointments, and the fear of planning your life. I didn’t have to justify myself to her; she just listened without judgment.
I would drive down to Regina for appointments, and I would meet her for coffee or some type of food. I told her about my bucket list that I made before I started chemo in April 2023, and this restaurant in Regina was on it. I suggested that we go to it, and of course Angie was down to trying it.
We went; we could see the kitchen workers cooking our food, it was in a basement, and it was small. We got our pasta, and we both looked at each other like, “This is not what I was expecting.” We both ate our mediocre spaghetti and left the restaurant laughing. It was the worst meal I have had from a place that had so much praise from others.
Another item on my list that I talked to Angie about was writing and publishing a book after chemo. I told her that I did it, so if she wanted to, she should and I would help her along the way. She was hesitant at first because it can be daunting, but as time went on, she started getting her ideas down.
I was so excited for her. When someone is given a terminal diagnosis, finding meaning in life is hard. You see the finish line, and you have all these emotions of “I was supposed to have more time,” “What am I supposed to do until then?” and “I can’t do a lot because of the progression of my disease.” For her to get purpose back into her life made me excited for her. She could have something that was hers that wasn’t just about friends and family.
“When someone is given a terminal diagnosis, finding meaning in life is hard.”
I remember the last time I saw Angie in the hospital. She had just come back from her trip to Halifax. I walked in the room, reminding myself that I needed to be strong for my friend because I remembered two years beforehand, I was on the same oncology floor calling friends, telling them about my diagnosis, and that they couldn’t visit if they couldn’t keep their emotions in check. I didn’t want to see them until they knew they could because it wasn’t them going through cancer.
I braced myself, not knowing what to expect. I saw my friend in the bed, and it was the first time I saw my friend look physically sick, but I was able to keep it together for her. She talked about her trip to Halifax, what happened during the trip, and everything in between. She was frustrated about being in the hospital, but I reminded her that it just takes time and she was in the best care.
I am not much of a hugger, but I wanted to give her a hug that day, but due to both of our compromised immune systems, I didn’t. I waved at her, saying “I will be thinking of you” and “I will let you know when I get back home to Saskatoon.” I left the room, and I barely made it to the elevator before I broke down in tears. I was physically watching my friend dying before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do but love on her while she was still here.
I was also worried it would be the last time I would ever see her, and I was sadly right. Angie never really recovered after that hospital stay.
We still messaged daily, but she was more fatigued and slept more when she got home from the hospital. I told her that I wanted to take photos of her when I was down in Lumsden for a wedding. She thought it was a great idea, and then we could hang out before I would have to go to the evening wedding as the venue was not too far from her house.
I went to Toronto the week of July 8 for my 30th birthday. I kept in contact with her, but on my third day she sent a message, “I’ve got my ducks in a row now.” All I could do was heart the message because what do you say to someone who knows they are going to die soon? I wanted to come home sooner, but I couldn’t as I was in Quebec at the time.
I hoped I would make it back in time to see her, but when I was on my flight from Winnipeg to Saskatoon, I got this sick feeling in my stomach, and I just knew I was too late. I was right. I landed, and I got the call that she had moved on.
“All I could do was heart the message because what do you say to someone who knows they are going to die soon?”
I hadn’t been that distraught over a loss since my grandma died. The first couple days after were a blur. The only things I remember were having no appetite and crying constantly. I ended up going to the wedding, but I felt guilty and sad for being in Lumsden when Angie wasn’t there.
Her husband sent me a message about her celebration of life, and I was thankful I got to attend. I was overwhelmed at first, but as I got more comfortable, I had people approaching me saying, “Oh, you’re Stephanie,” or “Oh, you’re the friend.” I realized that Angie talked about me a lot to her people, which made my heart happy and emotional. Later that night I was told that if it wasn’t for me, they don’t think Angie would have “lasted” as long, because I gave her purpose and hope. When that was said to me, I broke down because I knew how much Angie did for me, but I didn’t realize the power of my friendship with her and how you could impact the time someone has on earth. It is a comment I will never forget.
Once the celebration was done, I asked her husband about her book. He felt like he didn’t know when he would finish it, so I asked if I could finish it for her. She had the bones of the story and had written the first six chapters. He was happy and relieved that I would want to. So I got to work on it.
I was reading chapter two of her novel when I went to grab my phone to text her because what she had written was beautiful, and then I realized I couldn’t because she wasn’t here anymore and I broke down crying because I knew what she had written was about me.
“Valerie drove home smiling. She was excited at the thought of finally finding a friend. A real friend. Not a person you meet with once and never talk to again. She felt a real click with Kelsey and hoped that this was the start of a real friendship that she really wanted. Valerie had a couple of acquaintances around town, and she certainly considered Fred a friend at this point. But what she craved most was a girlfriend. Someone to talk with, to bond over glasses of wine and indulge in snacks with. Someone that could bring their family over for a barbeque and chat until the sun set. Go shopping and talk about their funny work stories. Valerie got the feeling that this person could potentially be Kelsey.”
I had to put the story away after I read this until I was ready to work on it again.
“I went to grab my phone to text her because what she had written was beautiful, and then I realized I couldn’t.”
After Survivor Conference 2025 in Calgary, I got home and started chipping away at her book. It no longer became emotional for me to do, but therapeutic. It helped me grieve the loss of my friend.
As I was getting to the end of the story, I was concerned that I wouldn’t come up with a good enough title, but her son became my inspiration. When I was hanging out with her family at the Duck Derby in Lumsden, her mom had told me that they were reminding her son that it’s okay to miss Mom, but that “she’s always in our heart,” and for that reason the title was chosen.
Angie, you impacted me in so many ways in such a short time that I wish I could tell you in person, but I know you are always in my heart.
