The Empty Chair in My Heart
Ode to Carey Fitzgerald
Date 7/30/2026
I have an empty chair in my life, one that has left a hole in my heart. In June, I lost of one of my best friends to metastatic breast cancer.
I met Carey through my husband, who works with her husband; she was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer in 2012. The four of us went out to dinner together right after my diagnosis, and Carey and I hit it off immediately. Our dear husbands were sitting there trying to find things to talk about while Carey and I gabbed for almost two hours! She had a sharp sense of humor, and her presence could light up a room. She HATED that phrase and threatened to haunt her husband and friends if we used it to describe her. The truth is that I would welcome her haunting me and continuing to send me four or six or 10 texts at a time.
I would love for her to join me at Chili’s for a three-hour dinner date.
Wouldn’t that be something—talking to Carey’s ghost while I’m sitting in a booth by myself! (insert lol)
What made Carey special to me was that she had a big heart and a smart mind. She taught me how to advocate for myself and always reminded me that if I don’t advocate for myself, who else is going to do it? She understood this metastatic breast journey like no other person I have met. We commiserated together over treatment side effects, the anxiety of scan weeks, and telling our oncologists why we did or did not want a particular treatment.
We researched new clinical trials, new drugs available, and organizations that we could support.
We talked a lot about how difficult it would be if we left this earth before our husbands. We cried over leaving our adult children. We vented to each other about how difficult it was to work full-time, which she did until the day she went into the hospital in April.
Most of all, Carey encouraged me to be optimistic and laugh at our predicament. What are we gonna do, cry and scream about it?
Will that make us feel better? (honestly, some days it does help, don’t tell her I said that though!) She told me that if she could live as long as she did, I would live twice as long because there are so many new treatments being approved every couple of years.
Carey told me to FIGHT for myself, my treatment decisions, and my quality of life with every ounce of energy I have.
So now I have a Carey-sized chair inside myself. I have many other friends who hold a place in my heart and mind, but nobody will ever be able to sit in Carey’s chair. I miss her fiercely, and I cry for her husband and adult son, who both loved her with every fiber of their being.
And yet, I will continue walking on my journey without Carey, and fighting for our rights to be heard and seen. If I didn’t carry on, I she would most definitely haunt me and kick my butt at 3 a.m! I am reminding myself that even though I mourn her loss, I am still here and will carry on our mission of advocacy and education.
I love and miss you, Carey. I will do my best to make you proud of me and will remember your voice whenever I need to have an uncomfortable conversation with my husband or my doctors.
You are gone but will never be forgotten.
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Photo credit: Macy Alex Photography
