Siblings Day is recognized in parts of the United States of America and Canada on April 10,  as Día del Hermano in Mexico on September 5, and across cultures and world religions as part of various holidays.

In the U.S., this holiday was founded to honor the memory of siblings, and as a content warning, this article includes themes of loss, death, and grief. Childhood cancer remains the leading cause of death by illness among children in our country, and you can learn more about our free programs here.

On Siblings Day, we celebrate the unique relationships that shape us from childhood into adulthood – the first friends, the protectors, the tormentors, the rivals, and the companions who influence who we will become and how we will see the world. For Beth, that bond with her older sister, Maddie, continues to impact her life today as an oncology nurse, a JoyRxMentor, and as a surviving sibling whose life and perspective was changed by childhood cancer.

Beth and Maddie grew up in Oregon with the playful chaos of many siblings. They practiced soccer and went camping. They played Polly Pocket and Barbies. They bickered and fought like siblings do. They made family memories at the Oregon Coast and cracked each other up.

“I accidentally knocked her loose tooth out by slamming a door,” Beth remembers. “The tooth flew across the room… and Maddie thought it was the funniest thing in the world.”

Beth can hear Maddie’s laugh in her head — distinctive and contagious — the kind you could pick out instantly in a crowd. It is the kind of knowing and detail that comes with loving someone, and carrying them in your heart.

When Maddie was diagnosed with a rare thyroid cancer at age 13, Beth was only 11. It changed everything – not just for Maddie, but for the entire family. “I remember coming home from school, and my parents sat down with me in the living room at home, and they told me, Maddie has cancer,” Beth recalls. “I didn’t understand exactly, you know. I was so young and so was Maddie, and at that point we didn’t know for sure what her care plan would be from there on. There are so many unknowns.”

Life can certainly get more complicated during cancer treatment. School doesn’t stop. Kids still grow. Beth’s parents, Dan and Andrea, tried to encourage some normalcy for the girls during all of this. Family, neighbors, and friends would help Beth get to school, and on days when Maddie was not too immunocompromised to interact with guests, she often had afriend with her during treatment. For Beth, trying to focus at school during one of Maddie’s early surgeries was impossible.

"This time I sat my parents down in the living room,” explains Beth. “And I told them – I cannot not be with my sister during this.” Beth, who had some understanding at this point that time with Maddie was becoming precious, advocated for what she wanted and needed as Maddie’s sister, and her parents understood.

From that point forward, Beth attended everything — surgeries, chemo, long hospital days. “I didn’t miss any appointments… I am very glad I had that,” she says. “I have so many more memories with Maddie now because of it — even if they were memories inside of a hospital.”

Like many siblings and supporters, Beth experienced the uncertainty and emotional weight of watching someone she loved go through treatment — while also navigating her own grief. Siblings often exist in the in-between: deeply affected, yet for valid reasons, they cannot always be the focus of care. They carry worry, confusion, and love — sometimes quietly.

*Julie joins for a chemo appointment, photo courtesy of Beth*

During Maddie’s treatment, a JoyRx mentor named Julie joined them for chemo visits. Beth remembers how quickly Julie helped transform long hospital hours into moments of connection, and how much it meant to her parents to have additional support, too.

“She just jumped right in and started doing all the art projects with us,” Beth says. “We traced Maddie’s outline and made a ‘Queen Maddie’ poster… we made bracelets… it passed the time really quickly. She was so easygoing.”

Julie’s presence also supported Beth in ways that mattered deeply. “I just appreciated that Maddie had someone else there — and I had someone else to talk to,” she explains. “She was another support person… it never felt forced to connect with her.”

For siblings, and for young people in treatment, those moments that restore the order of things – the joy and play of childhood - matter deeply. For Maddie and Beth, those moments turned into cherished time and core memories.

Tragically, Maddie died in November 2012. She had fought through two cycles of chemo, a course of radiation, and numerous surgeries. She was surrounded by parents, andgrandparents, and family and friends, and, of course, Beth, whose stubborn love and desire to be close by meant an overnight stay with Maddie in the hours leading up to her passing.

“The PICU had really intense visitor guidelines at that time,” recalls Beth. “But with all of our family coming in, the doctor told basically everyone on the floor: Maddie doesn’t have much time left with us, so let them in.”

That day, as hard as it was, is also a profoundly inspiring memory for Beth. “Growing up,” she recalls, “My Grandpa would always sing 'You Are My Sunshine' to us to fall asleep or whatever, and so he started singing.” In this way, Maddie's family and friends sang their supported goodbyes with her, and faced an impossible moment, together.

Beth’s life continues to be shaped by Maddie in both visible and invisible ways. She was supported in grief by her family, by the medical teams, by friends and loved ones; but everyone’s grief is unique, and at the end of the day we each need to find a way forward.

“I’ll never grow up with my sister,” Beth said. “I can’t just text her day-to-day…She didn’t get to go to college…I don’t know what career she’d be doing now…and I’ll never be an aunt to her children. You just… you miss all of those life moments.”

We know that grief doesn’t end when treatment ends. It doesn’t end when services conclude. For surviving siblings, often referred to as “the forgotten mourners” the loss can grow over time — as milestones pass, as life moves forward, and as they imagine what might have been.

“All of the books you find on grief are on being a widow, losing your child, losing a parent… absolutely nothing on losing a sibling until I found one book,” she said. “It’s called Always a Sibling[by Annie Sklaver Orenstein]… and it really helped me understand that other people are experiencing this in the world.”

Those reflections continue to shape Beth’s life today. They influenced her decision to become an oncology nurse – a role that allows her to support families walking similar paths.

“I have so many tools in my pocket because of my experience,” she explained. “I’ve been able to provide much better care because of my personal experience with cancer.”

These experiences have also inspired Beth to become a JoyRx Mentor — like Julie was for Maddie - offering connection, creativity, and support for children (and their siblings!) facing treatment today.

Beth’s experiences with Maddie are unique but illustrate a powerful truth: siblings do not just witness childhood cancer. They become advocates. They become caregivers. They become mentors. They carry forward their experiences and memories. They carry forward the sound of their siblings’ laughter, and the persistent love of a best friend.

And on Siblings Day, Beth’s story reminds us that supporting families means supporting everyone — including the siblings whose grief may be quieter, but no less profound.

Thank you, Beth, for sharing your beautiful memories of Maddie and for continuing to share her story with the world. We celebrate you and Maddie on Siblings Day, and we are grateful for your care and compassion as a nurse, and as a JoyRx Mentor!

Beth Lauer, RN, BSN, lives in Portland, Oregon, with her incredible partner, Harper, and their two cats Clementine and Jack Jack. Beth is a proud alumna of the University of Portland School of Nursing, and is an Acute Care Hematology/Oncology nurse at Providence Heath and Services. She is a caring and wonderful JoyRx Mentor, and recently encouraged her dad to become one as well! Her parents, Dan and Andrea, live nearby, and share love, support, and encouragement for Beth and other families facing treatment, along with their cherished memories of Maddie.

If you are seeking resources as a grieving sibling, or parent, please contact your medical social worker, child life specialist, or medical care team.

Always A Sister: Beth’s Siblings Day Story

Joy Is Health: What the Science Says and What We’re Seeing