What Am I Going to Do Without You?

By Elizabeth Hamilton-Guarino

Elizabeth and her dad James F. Hamilton

There are no words that fully hold the shape of loss. Especially when that loss is cancer. Especially when it is your person.

You wake up in the same house, but everything is different. The toothbrush in the cup. The empty chair at the table. The coat still hanging by the door. And the voice in your head that whispers, What am I going to do without you?

My dad, James F. Hamilton, was a stroke survivor and kidney cancer survivor from 2004 to 2018. His strength, grace, and courage through it all taught me how to live and love more deeply, and his passing left a space that words still struggle to fill.

Grief rearranges us. It doesn’t just break our hearts—it transforms the architecture of our lives. And if you’ve lost someone to cancer, you know the pain is layered. There is the ache of absence, but also the trauma of the journey: the appointments, the uncertainty, the conversations you had to have far too soon.

And then—silence. A stillness that feels too loud.

In this space, we begin the work of continuing. Not moving on, but living forward. There is a difference. And it begins with acknowledging what has changed—and what hasn’t.

1. Love doesn’t end where life does.

Your person may be physically gone, but your love didn’t die with them. In fact, it might be stronger now—clearer, distilled to its essence.

You still carry them in how you speak, how you love, how you show up for others. They shaped you. And what they gave you cannot be taken.

This doesn’t erase your pain. But it does mean they’re still with you. In memory. In meaning. In the mirror.

2. The question isn’t “What am I going to do without you?” It’s “What can I do because of you?”

In the thick of grief, this shift feels impossible. And that’s okay. You don’t have to rush there. But in time, you may begin to see how your person’s life—and even their death—calls you to something. Maybe it’s advocacy. Or art. Or kindness. Maybe it’s just being more present. More patient. More awake.

This isn’t about turning your pain into a project. It’s about realizing that your person’s impact didn’t end—and neither does yours.

3. There is no right way to grieve.

Grief isn’t linear. It doesn’t unfold in neat stages. It loops. It spirals. It sneaks up on you in the cereal aisle or during a commercial or when you hear their favorite song.

Give yourself permission to feel all of it: the anger, the guilt, the numbness, the strange moments of joy. Don’t judge your grief. Honor it.

And know this—just because you smile doesn’t mean you’re forgetting. Just because you cry doesn’t mean you’re broken. You are doing the sacred work of surviving love lost.

4. Ritual and remembrance help us stay rooted.

When someone dies, their absence can feel like a hole. But rituals—big or small—help us patch that hole with meaning.

Light a candle each morning. Keep a journal of memories. Wear something that belonged to them. Visit a place they loved. Say their name.

Create a way to keep them in your life that feels real to you. There’s no wrong answer. There’s only what heals.

5. Grief changes form, not importance.

In the beginning, grief is heavy and constant. But over time, it shifts. You grow around it. It doesn’t go away, but it softens.

You may not notice the exact day you begin to breathe a little easier, laugh a little louder, or make plans for a future that doesn’t include them physically—but does include their spirit. That is healing. Not forgetting. Just… becoming.

6. Talk to them. Out loud.

Say what you didn’t get to say. Ask what you wish they could answer. Tell them about your day.

No, they may not answer in words. But you’ll feel them. In the way your heart softens. In the signs around you. In the unexpected moment when you remember exactly what they would’ve said. Grief is a conversation. Keep it going.

7. Find the people who don’t rush your pain.

You’ll hear it: “They’re in a better place.” “At least you had time.” “Everything happens for a reason.”

Maybe. But also—ouch.

Find the people who will sit with you in the hard stuff. Who won’t try to fix it. Who won’t shame your timeline. Who will remember birthdays and anniversaries and say their name like it’s still sacred. Those people are your lifelines. Let them in.

8. You are allowed to rebuild.

This is the hardest part. Because after someone you love dies, joy can feel like betrayal. Laughter feels disloyal. Planning feels impossible.

But your person wouldn’t want you stuck in sorrow. They would want you to feel the sun again. To build something beautiful again. Living doesn’t dishonor them. It honors what they loved most—you.

9. Legacy is your daily life.

You don’t have to create a foundation or write a book to keep someone’s legacy alive. You just have to live a life that reflects what mattered to them.

Did they love fiercely? Then love. Were they kind? Then be kind. Did they make people feel seen? Then do that. You are their legacy. In every choice. Every moment. Every breath.

10. You don’t have to have it all figured out.

Grief doesn’t come with a manual. And healing doesn’t mean you’ll stop missing them. It just means you’ll learn how to carry the love differently.

There will be days you fall apart. And days you feel steady. Both are okay.

If today feels impossible, start small. Drink water. Step outside. Put your hand on your heart and say, “I’m still here.” Because you are. And that matters.

Final thoughts:

What are you going to do without them?

You’re going to love them still. You’re going to remember. You’re going to cry, and laugh, and ache, and heal.

You’re going to find your way forward—not because you’re ready, but because love never really leaves.

And because, in your own time, in your own way, you are still living. And that is its own kind of sacred.

About the Author

Elizabeth Hamilton-Guarino is the author multiple bestselling books including The Change Guidebook: How to Align Your Heart, Truths, and Energy to Find Success in All Areas of Your Life, a powerful resource for navigating life’s most transformative moments. As a master life coach, speaker, and founder of The Best Ever You Network, Elizabeth helps people embrace change with clarity, compassion, and courage. Her work has been featured by Hay House, Simon & Schuster/HCI, Good Housekeeping, and Forbes. Through her bestselling books, coaching, and podcast, she inspires individuals around the world to live authentically, rise from adversity, and lead with love. Learn more at BestEverYou.com.