RELAY FOR LIFE, MAY 18

11pm
I'm just back from the relay for life event at Tri-county high. I've never done anything quite like this before. Oh, I've done the hike for the hungry. We marched more than 20 miles to Boston, but this was different. This was Frank's birthday, and for me, it took on a lot more meaning than any charity event I've ever done or supported.

Besides trying to dress for the raw and rainy weather, I prepared myself with the choice of some significant jewelry I wore. I had my Psalm 23 bracelet on my left wrist, always a reminder of the presence of God walking with me. Around my neck, my own wedding band encircles a triple diamond tier representing the three decades I had Frank in my life. I also wore my mother’s ring, one diamond had been my grandmother’s, and one my mom’s—and I lost them both to cancer. On my right wrist I wore a beautiful emerald crystal bracelet made by Laurie, a dear friend who has been battling cancer for years.

Lastly, I carried a piece of paper in my pocket with the names of everyone who supported me. Counting spouses there are thirty names including one anonymous donor, and all were with me in spirit and in heart. The majority couldn’t give a lot in dollars but I can tell you that even the smaller amounts meant a lot to me and really added up to make a difference, too. Over $1000 came in and I am grateful to everyone who made that happen. Their names are still scrolling on my web page on the cancer site in a little section called “honor roll”. And let me take this opportunity to say another HUGE THANK YOU to all of you dear friends.

In all these symbols, I wonder if this is like the priests of Levitical times who bore the names of the 12 tribes of Israel on their garments and engraved them into the jewels they wore. I love the depth of meaning this portrays. I have a strong ‘hunch’ God’s into it too.

I met the kids for dinner at the Rome, a favorite old Italian place in the heart of downtown. Frank and I used to go there for date nights because he knew I loved the lacey curtains and candlelight. Together we enjoyed the great food and friendly wait staff on many a special occasion.

Tonight it was with Nate and Naomi and their kids, and Isaac and Jen. (Jesse & Bri had to stay home with little Jaden Frank, their newborn.) I’m SO so grateful that some of them could be there with me to remember Frank’s birthday.

Afterwards, Isaac and Jen went with me for the actual walk. We dressed for outdoors but heavy rain forced the whole event indoors. At first, it was much more upbeat than I thought it would be, but maybe that was because of all the high school kids. There were a few speeches and raffles and a DJ providing music for the walkers. It reminded Isaac of his own high school days when they would have skate nights in the gym, but I’m so glad they stayed and walked beside me. They may never know what their hugs and support meant to me.

All the luminaries were spread around the gym floor and in the center they formed the word HOPE. Reading them as we circled the laps moved me deeply. Bags were written with the names of loved ones. Words like, ‘Miss you Dad’, and ‘Love you Mom’ or, ‘my Nana’ and ‘we’re praying for you’ barely convey the depth of pain and loss with true justice. Isaac and Jen helped find our luminaries and we put them all together in a little row.

Then the mood changed considerably. The DJ took a break and a lone bagpiper walked through the middle of the rows playing softly as the lights went out. Then the high school band played a violin memoriam piece for those who “lost the battle”. We were sitting right there in the corner near our names and wished with all my might that Frank was there. I could see the words we’d written, ‘Miss you Papa’ and “my best friend and husband of 31 years”, “Frank”, from where we sat, and the tears streamed down my face. Not just for us, my kids who lost their father, and losing my best friend, but for every one of those names on every one of those luminaries. Each one represents a precious soul and a family that has been torn apart, a beloved life cut short.

The survivors were called up to do a lap or two around the track as we applauded them, and there were more tears. Young and old, some holding hands, some crying, they paraded by holding little lights. For me, I wondered what it would be like to have Frank in that round, too. Oh my, it was more than I expected. Why couldn't he have been a survivor instead of a name on a bag? I tried to picture what he would be doing, and I longed with everything in me to see that smile of his. I know, the day will come. I will see him again. But sometimes I wish it were sooner. I wish it could be now, Lord.

I saw a few people I knew there and had a couple friendly conversations, but basically the whole gym was full of strangers--volunteers, grandparents, teenagers, men and women and scattered children. Yet, I could see the familiar expressions in many of their eyes. The brave and hurting. I recognized the agony of all who have been touched with the battle against cancer. In reality, we may not know each other’s names and stories, but we are united, this little assembly. This is a sect of humanity that is trying to fight a common enemy with our heads held high. There was something very solemn and sacred about that. Grief not only isolates, but I found out tonight that it also unites people.

It is my prayer that all our combined efforts and the cries of our hearts, with all the silent tears that fell tonight, will be gathered together and carried before God’s holy throne by angels.

I pray God will be pleased to grant us the cure to this horrible disease called cancer.

And to all who supported me, thank you and God bless you.