Today’s Bestie Day opened on a somber note. Before we said anything else, Lawrence shared the update none of us wanted but all of us needed to hear: his mom was heading to surgery for her cancer soon. The fear, the love, the exhaustion — all of it was right there in his voice.
The chat rallied immediately, wrapping him in the softest kind of support: shared stories, prayers, holding space. A
told us she’d lit a Dolly Parton candle for Lawrence’s mom — the kind of small, intentional gesture that feels like a hand on your back when you need one most. And I offered to light my David Bowie candle on Monday, letting “the starman” keep an eye on his mom from wherever starmen watch over us.It was gentle. It was quiet. And it was the perfect reminder that sometimes the only thing we can offer each other is a little light.
From there, the conversation stayed grounded and intimate — two friends navigating the realities of midlife while the world around us tilts and shakes. We talked about:
the weight of worry
the strange clarity that arrives in crisis
how caregiving roles shift as parents age
the ways our community shows up for one another without being asked
There were moments of softness, moments of steadiness, and moments where we simply sat with things that have no easy language.
Bestie Day is always about connection — but today it felt like the truest version of that intention. Not jokes, not chaos, not commentary. Just presence.
By the end of the hour, the chat felt less like an audience and more like the circle of chairs you pull together in a living room when someone you love needs you.
Thank you
, , , , , and many others for tuning in. We love you, mean it!
