Grief does not always begin after someone dies. Sometimes it begins much earlier, while the person is still present, still speaking, still laughing and still part of everyday life. This experience is known as anticipatory grief and Conor Stewart captures it with painful honesty in Saving Dad.
The memoir follows Stewart and his family after his father is diagnosed with stage 4 non-small cell lung cancer. From that moment, love becomes inseparable from fear. Every appointment carries the possibility of bad news. Every scan result can change the family’s direction. Every ordinary day feels valuable because no one knows how many more will come.
That is the emotional tension at the centre of anticipatory grief.
A family continues hoping while quietly preparing for loss. They make plans for recovery, yet they also notice the changes they do not want to name. A parent becomes weaker. Their appetite changes. Their energy fades. Their memory becomes less reliable. The person is still there, but parts of the life everyone once knew begin to shift.
In Saving Dad, Stewart describes this grief as something that exists without a clear ending. It lives alongside effort, hope, love and responsibility. He watches his father closely, noticing how he moves, rests, breathes and responds. Each small change may appear manageable on its own, but together they create a growing awareness that life is no longer stable.
This kind of grief can be especially difficult because it does not allow a person to mourn freely. Stewart is not only a son facing the possible loss of his father. He is also an advocate, researcher, caregiver and source of strength for his family. He must continue making decisions, asking questions, monitoring symptoms and remaining composed even when fear feels overwhelming.
Love makes that burden heavier.
The more deeply someone is loved, the more painful uncertainty becomes. Every setback feels personal. Every improvement creates hope that may later be tested again. Stewart shows how families can move between optimism and fear within the same day, never fully settling into either one.
The memoir also reveals how anticipatory grief affects relationships. Family members may try to protect one another by hiding their fear. They may avoid certain conversations because saying the words aloud feels too final. At the same time, serious illness can encourage greater honesty. People begin expressing affection more openly, revisiting memories and recognizing the importance of time together.
As Stewart’s father’s condition worsens, ordinary moments become deeply meaningful. Listening to music, watching football, holding hands, reading aloud and sitting quietly together take on a new emotional weight. These moments cannot stop what is happening, but they allow love to remain active.
That is one of the most moving truths in Saving Dad: anticipatory grief is not only about fearing the future. It is also about learning to be fully present in the time that remains.
Conor Stewart does not offer simple answers or easy comfort. Instead, he gives readers an honest account of loving someone through uncertainty. For anyone who has watched a parent, partner or family member become seriously ill, Saving Dad offers recognition, companionship and the reminder that grief and love often begin walking together long before the final goodbye.
