Relay for Life is a
big deal to me. It’s huge. Participating in this amazing event for two
years now has helped give me purpose, and helped heal some hurt that naturally
occurs when cancer enters your life. In
my case, I am so very fortunate to say cancer did not enter my life through my
own body. However, unfortunately, cancer
has come to me through many of my loved ones.
I think the number given was 1 out of every 8 people will be diagnosed
in cancer in their lifetime.
Relay has become
such a big deal to me that trying to sum up all of what I want to say in one
blog post would be nearly impossible.
I’m not even sure it’s possible in 5 or 6 posts, but I think I can
better get it all across this way. So I
will go by Who, What, When, Where, Why, and maybe How to help me organize my
thoughts.
I’ll start with "Who". Who Is Vicky, who got me involved with Relay
in the first place. My fearless team
leader for our first two walks, and likely many more, she’s always got a
positive outlook, and creative way of thinking.
Who is the many
people I know in my life affected by various forms of cancer.
From my own
beautiful mother, who thankfully had a very minor case…. It was so odd to add
you to the luminaries we decorate every year, but even with such comparatively minor
treatment, I’m proud that you are a survivor, not a memorial. My mother did it right. She called BS on doctors, followed her
instincts, and pushed to be treated when they thought there was nothing
there. That’s the absolute best way to
fight cancer…. Be proactive. She won.
My Mother-in-Law,
likely one of the very few people who could reasonably call her cancer a
blessing, as it released her spirit from her body which was in permanent
lockdown from various other issues…. Yet still, taken by breast cancer in what
should have been her happy golden years.
She was smiling to the very end, when she said heard the angels calling
her home.
My beloved second
Mom (I have two of those), Jody, taken so quickly…. A bigger and braver heart would
be nearly impossible to find. Jody
overcame so many other obstacles in life, to be taken down by only one…. cancer. I never truly had an idea how far her love
reached, until I went to her memorial. I
still can’t thank her sons and daughter enough for sharing her with me. It’s been just over a year, and I still am
absolutely heartbroken at her passing.
Her smile forever lives in my memory.
Joy, I have a
picture of me as a kid, sitting next to a woman holding her itty bitty
baby. That itty bitty baby was taken by
cancer in her very young teen years. The
truth of the ugliness of cancer can be seen in the children it rips from our
lives more than anywhere else. To know
that a child must endure the endless testing, and horrific treatment, that comes
with a cancer diagnosis… and to ultimately loose that battle… what can better
tell that story?
My dear friend
Peggy, whom I met at my very first Relay meeting: I did not know she was a survivor. I only knew she was on a team walking in the
relay. I loved her right away. Peggy and I were instant and easy kindred
spirits. She’s rude, crude, and
unusual. Full of mischief and spunk, she’s
me, but older. :-D That impish twinkle in her eyes tells you
real quick it’s time to duck; she’s up to something. I found out on the night of our first relay
that she wore the purple “survivor” shirt.
I would never have guessed. I
know full damned well that one day it is very possible that cancer will take
her away as well, but the truth is, I know I’m so blessed to know this woman,
that I’d rather dance this earth with her for a shorter time, and lose my mind
when she leaves us, than to not absolutely enjoy her every moment I could. I was so thankful to see her, in all her
spunkiness, at the Relay that I nearly broke down and bawled.
Olivia, whom I have
met, but don’t actually know. Last year
was her first year with her cancer diagnosis.
This year was her first year as a survivor. Olivia just turned 13 (I believe) a few days
before relay. We’re all watching this
brilliant young lady grow up through Relay.
Emma, who was in my
eldest’s kindergarten and first grade class, passed away this year. She was (forgive me I don’t know exactly how
old) around 8 years old. The school
superintendent spoke at this year’s first Relay meeting and told us all his
stories of this brilliantly bright little girl who all the way until the end
refused to let it get her down. She
remained in school, and was, from what I understand, a great student. She was always smiling. But the whole time, a tumor was in her brain,
taking her away from those that love her most.
Maria (“MJ”), a
student in Eldest Son’s second grade class, also fighting brain cancer. She’s a beautiful little princess. Every time I’ve seen her, she’s wearing a
lovely fancy dress and a headband, not hiding, but rather showing off her tufts
of hair…. What is left behind after all her treatments. The teacher published a book as an end of the
year full of a mini-bio and a self-portrait from each student. MJ’s bio includes her mother’s wish that MJ’s
cancer never returns. It struck me that
a) she decorated the little hair she has, not trying to hide it, and b) she
wasn’t concerned for herself if her cancer returns, but of the feelings of her
mother.
Lyn: a brick house
of a woman. I would never recommend
tangling with her. Even on a bad day she
could take down anyone I know, both physically and intellectually. We, as her students and friends already knew
this of her, and looked up to her. This
year we were probably the biggest wimps of all when we learned she had
cancer. I clearly remember the moment
she told me. She thought I had
heard. I was sitting in her classroom,
and I swear I thought I could disintegrate into the floor right then. I was so embarrassed that between the two of
us, it was I who could not control my tears.
And in classic Lyn style, she was more concerned with making ME feel
better! Funny thing about most of the
women I know; we get sick, and we find it more important to assure the ones
around us that everything will be okay.
If anyone can kick the crap outta this, it’s Lyn.
Becky, who I don’t
know, but I do know her husband Joe.
Here’s what I do know… when stationed in Bahrain, I met Joe, who is one
of the funniest people you’ll ever meet in your life. And as off the wall as Joe is, one thing that
was always very clear is that his wife, Becky, is absolutely his partner in
everything, and without her, he’s just not a whole. This is a man crazy head-over-heals in love
with his wife. One thing I see him tell
her all the time is that he loves her, “more than a fat kid loves cake”. Within the last year, Becky was
diagnosed. I read a post on Facebook
that Joe was tagged in, written by Becky, just a few days ago. It was in so many ways a gentle way of saying
she is preparing to leave us. The
bravery, however, and the class, grace, faith, and the just… there just aren’t
words to describe it… had me in uncontrollable tears. I shared it with my husband, who knows
neither Joe, nor Becky, and even he was in tears. The fight continues for Becky, and I refuse
to give up rooting for her. And the
very last line in this post? After
asking that readers, “continue to pray (not pity)” was, “So, now that we are
done with that tell me what's on your bucket list! ;0)” This woman is looking death in the face,
laughing her ass off, and spitefully saying, “Yeah, and then what?”
Darene, who I had
no idea had cancer, and has lived with it for who knows how long, and continues
to do so, but lives a beautiful life with her two adorable little boys and
loving husband. (And let me tell you,
this is the kind of gal you want to sit around and have more than a few laughs
with!)
These a few names,
and sadly every year this list expands.
There are many I’ve not listed here, I could seriously write a full
length novel. Along with the list expanding
every year, it changes. People pass on,
people get worse, people get better, and people get cured. As a (so far) Non-cancer person, I often feel
helpless. But as I walk through the
night with so many people wearing purple, and so many of these people happy to
tell you what the Relay means to them… it’s not even just about money. It’s about a community physically showing up
to support to those enduring things so unimaginable that a few hours of time
spent means everything to them.
That last sentence…
that’s what I understood very quickly listening to the speaker at this year’s luminary
ceremony. She said over and over that
she needed us here. Raising funds,
that’s very much important. But this
amazing woman is fighting breast cancer.
She’s just completed her chemo and has 20something rounds of radiation
left. She briefly described what the
radiation treatments are like for her…. And then she told us all that what she
really needed out of Relay was to see that she had the support; to see our
faces, to hear the applause, and to know that so many people are counting on
her to give it her all.
These are the faces
and story of Relay. These are why I care
so much. These are the reason that for
as long as I possibly can, I will continue to relay every year, even if I don’t
raise a dime. THIS is what relay is all
about.
