There are moments in life when the future narrows to a single question.

A few weeks ago, my uncle thought that question might be whether he had cancer.

My family is Colombian. My parents immigrated to the United States many years ago and eventually became American citizens. But my mother’s only brother left Colombia to build his life in Venezuela. He spent decades there. He married. He raised two sons. He worked, celebrated birthdays, and lived the ordinary life most of us assume will be waiting for us tomorrow.

Then he became sick.

Because healthcare has become so difficult to access in Venezuela, he traveled back to Colombia for treatment. Doctors suspected stomach cancer.

On Wednesday, June 24, as he was being wheeled into surgery, his wife and youngest son were at home in La Guaira. His older son lived nearby with his wife and their four-year-old daughter.

While he was under anesthesia, the earthquake struck.

The building where his family lived, Edificio Coral, collapsed.

For days, we did not know who had survived.

Then came the first miracle.

His daughter-in-law was alive.

His four-year-old granddaughter was alive. She had been pulled from the rubble with severe injuries and would need multiple surgeries.

For a moment, there was hope.

Then came the news that broke us.

My aunt did not survive.

My 16-year-old cousin did not survive.

My other cousin, whose little girl survived the rubble, did not.

When my uncle closed his eyes before surgery, he was a husband, a father, and a grandfather worried about a cancer diagnosis.

When he opened them, the earthquake had taken three members of his immediate family.

My gratitude and grief are in constant competition.

I grieve for my aunt, who neighbors say was heard screaming beneath the rubble but did not survive.

I grieve for my little cousin, who was only 16 years old.

I grieve for my other cousin, who was a husband and father.

I grieve for his wife, who survived and is now alone to raise their daughter.

I grieve for my mother, who has to watch her only brother carry this enormous grief.

And I grieve for my uncle, who is still in Colombia, facing a possible cancer diagnosis with no home to return to, after losing his wife and both sons.

I am so heartbroken, but I am also grateful that his granddaughter and daughter-in-law survived.

I keep coming back to that first moment. He went into surgery facing a question about cancer. He woke up facing another, which is how does a person keep living after losing almost everything?

I do not know the answer. But I know he should not have to search for it alone.

Our family will be helping him every way we can, but the financial and practical challenges ahead, including three funerals, housing, and medical care, are more than one family can carry alone.

If you are able to contribute, I would be eternally grateful. If you can’t, please consider sharing this. Sometimes a share reaches the one person who can help.

In the midst of so much loss, we are holding tightly to our faith in God’s presence, which gives us strength. Even in this unimaginable grief, we believe He is near to the brokenhearted and carrying us through what we cannot carry alone. We would also be grateful for your prayers.