Journal Entry of a GenXer

A single object hold a million memories

October 6, 2025

I think back to a memory from several years back. I decided to share it once again in honor of my son and his strength and courage... in honor of my memories.

Isn’t it incredible how a single object can hold a million memories? It can bring them back in an instant—like a wave crashing over you, unexpected and full of feeling.

Here’s a small fact about my family: we love blankets. Especially in the colder months, they’re everywhere—on couches, chairs, beds—ready for anyone who needs a little extra comfort.

April 2022, as my son began treatment for stage IV Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, he bought himself a blanket. Not just any blanket—the blanket. It was so soft and comforting, I ended up getting one for myself too.

That blanket traveled back and forth with us to Boston. It became a quiet companion on some of our hardest days. After his treatments, I’d wrap myself in it, doing whatever I could to stay focused, stay positive, and hold onto some sense of home. It was a small thing, but it made a difference—for both of us.

As you can imagine, that blanket now holds more than just warmth. It holds memories. So many memories. Some joyful, some painful, all woven into its fabric. Moments of hope, fear, laughter, exhaustion—all still there, ready to rise when the time is right.

Since we got the life-changing news that he is in remission, I’ve been surprised by how many emotions still surface. Sometimes without warning. I do my best to make space for them. To let them in, feel them fully, and then let them pass. It’s not easy, but it’s part of the healing.

I try to remind my son of that, too—that feeling things deeply is okay. That healing isn’t linear, and emotions don’t come with a timeline.

Last night, with the chill finally settling in again, I pulled out my blanket. I wrapped myself in it, and instantly, it all came back. The hospital rooms. The car rides. The exhaustion. The hope. The small victories.

Yes, I cried. But not from sadness. I cried from joy. From gratitude. From the overwhelming feeling of “we made it!”. I remembered how strong we were. How fiercely we fought. How we never gave up.

And this morning, I walked around the house with that blanket draped around my shoulders like a cape. Just for a moment, I felt like a superhero.

And maybe, in a way, I am. We both are.