Hi, I’m Arianna and I’m running in honor of my sister, Ami, and the journey cancer forced me to walk, too.

Cancer doesn't discriminate. My sister was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 24. I didn’t think about how it would affect me. She wasn't someone who just endured her illness, but faced it with a level of grace and strength that left a lasting impression on everyone who knew her. She didn't let it define her, or control her life. 

7 years later... When things got worse and we were told she was going to hospice, I still wasn’t thinking about myself. I stayed by her side. I was with her until her last breath. All I cared about was her. Her pain, her fear, and her comfort because that’s what you do when you love someone. 

Losing her changed everything. She was only 31, the same age I am now. She was light, love, and strength in human form, and she carried herself with so much grace, even at the end. I was with her in her final days, and that’s something I will carry with me forever.

Watching someone you love getting diagnosed, go through treatment, and ultimately die of cancer isn’t pretty. It’s a kind of pain people don’t understand until they’ve lived it. A pain I don't wish on anyone. It’s not something you can fully explain. You can’t put into words what it’s like to watch your sister slowly fade. But the CSCNT was a place for me to go with people who understood. A way to process emotions without judgement. 

After she passed, people started telling me to get checked “just to be safe.” Not something you expect to hear at 29. At first, it was conversations about risk and family history. Then it became scans, biopsies, MRIs, and mammograms. Then words like surgery… and double mastectomy.

It’s different hearing those words when you’ve just watched your sister die from the same disease. It’s not abstract. It’s not statistics. It’s real.

Choosing to have the surgery wasn’t simple. It wasn’t “just prevention.” It was fear. It was grief. It was trauma. It was making the hardest decision of my life, knowing exactly what cancer can take.

And through all of it, I kept wishing I had her. I wish I had my sister to help me through. She would have understood in a way no one else could.

With guidance and support from loved ones. I made the choice that saved my life. Learning I had abnormal “pre-cancerous” cells that my oncology surgeon guaranteed would turn into cancer within the next few years at the ripe age of 30 was a shock to say the least. 

Doing all of this while staying sober, 6 years clean at the time, was its own battle. There were moments I wanted to escape the physical and emotional pain, but I didn’t. I faced it. And I came through it without losing myself.

And somehow, I survived all of it.

The fear.
The unknown.
The grief.
The loneliness.
The decisions that felt impossible.

Every day I felt like I didn’t have the strength and every day, I kept going anyway.

Ami once told me she was jealous that I “lit up a room.” I always felt that way about her. She saw something in me I couldn’t see in myself and even now, she’s still part of the reason I’m here. She helped save me from an unimaginable pain she herself had to go through. 

This run is for her. For her life, her strength, and the love she gave so freely.

And it’s also for me. For choosing to keep going, to keep healing, and to keep showing up.

I’m still grieving.
I’m still healing.
But I’m still here.

And I will carry her with me. In the butterflies and the sunsets. Always.

(I will forever be grateful to Cancer Support Community North Texas. After losing my sister, they provided one of the things I needed the most... A community that understood. They offer their life-changing support and mental health assistance for FREE, ensuring that no one has to face the trauma of cancer or grief alone because of a price tag. They were my lifeline when I needed it most. So supporting this non-profit organization is something close and personal to my heart. - Please consider donating. Every little bit helps.)