Every time I pack a comfort basket, I think about the person who will receive it.
I don’t always know their name or their story. I don’t know whether they are preparing for their first treatment or have already spent months going back and forth to appointments. But I know there is a person on the other side of that diagnosis with a family, a life, and so much on their mind.
My hope is that when they open their bag, they feel a little bit of comfort—and know that someone in their community is thinking of them.
That is why I started the Glen Adnam Cancer Comfort Basket Foundation, in memory of my dad.
Losing my dad to cancer in 2019 changed my life. I still carry that grief, and I carry so much love for him, too. This foundation has given me somewhere to put some of that love: into something I can pack with my own hands and pass along to another family facing cancer.
There are things we cannot fix for someone we care about. That can leave us feeling helpless. But there are still ways to show up, and I believe the small ones matter.
A blanket to get comfortable under. A pair of fuzzy socks. A deck of cards to help pass the time. A journal with room for thoughts that might be hard to say out loud.
Our comfort bags bring together everyday items with care. As they have grown and changed, we have included things such as blankets, fuzzy socks, sleep masks, tea, playing cards, journals, and personal-care essentials.
Each item has a simple purpose. Together, I hope they make a difficult day feel a little gentler.
There is also so much care behind a bag before it ever reaches someone’s hands.
There are people donating money, purchasing items, sharing our posts, helping with printing, and making connections. There are businesses choosing to support a small foundation and healthcare workers helping us reach the people who could use that comfort.
When I look at the bags coming together, I see all of those contributions. Someone may have helped with one item or one donation, but they have become part of something another person will get to hold.
As a mom of four, I fit this work into a busy home and all the ordinary moments that come with it. There is ordering, organizing, counting, packing, and plenty of figuring things out along the way. Seeing the finished bags reminds me why I keep going.
I think of my dad. I think of the families waiting for news, driving to appointments, or trying to find their footing after a diagnosis. And I think about how much it can mean to feel remembered during a hard season.
I wish a basket could make everything easier. What I hope it can offer is a small moment of relief, a bit of warmth, or the feeling that someone took the time to care.
If you have donated, shared a post, purchased an item, or encouraged this work, thank you. You have helped turn an idea rooted in love for my dad into something we can share with others.
If you would like to help fill a future comfort bag, you can support our GoFundMe or purchase an item from our Amazon wish list. Sharing our work helps us reach more people, too.
To me, it will always be more than a basket.
It is a little reminder that someone cares. 🤍
Kennedy Tessier
Founder, Glen Adnam Cancer Comfort Basket Foundation
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