A few years ago now, I had an absolutely delightful acquaintance named June. She was terrific. We were not ever really close, or best friends, or really tied up in each other’s lives at all, yet she was the kind of person that now she’s gone, I still miss from time to time. One of those just vibrant, amazing people you’re blessed to know in your life, you know?
June was awesome.
One summer June’s adult sons ran the crazy obstacle race, Tough Mudder. I don’t remember where we were, why we were talking about it, or anything else about the conversation, but June sort of looked at her family doing this insane thing, and she leans towards me and says “we could do that.”
I thought she was nuts.
Later, June died a few days before I gave birth to my second little girl. She had been ill and I had been the size of a house. We hadn’t run together.
A few months after having the baby I was presented the opportunity to run a less-insane yet similar style race to the one she had commented to me that we could do, and this one was in support of the Canadian Cancer Society and not “just” for fun.
I lept at the opportunity. I ran my fat postpartum ass through the mud, over hills, under tunnels, over walls… I literally collapsed with exhaustion upon completing that run. And thought of June every step of the way.
Since then the word cancer has come to hit a little more close to home, with my mother and husband both being diagnosed with different cancers at different stages within approximately a month of each other.
I was shattered.
Looking back, those couple of months were probably some of the hardest I’ve ever dealt with, and I wasn’t even one of the persons fighting the disease. I was bedside, holding hands, praying, and trying to keep life held together for when they could fully return to it.
It was awful.
But unlike dear June’s family mine has thus far been lucky. Both our cancer cases are tales of conquering heroes still with us.
We are so grateful.
In my humble opinion more stories should be like ours. I understand that everyone leaves mortality eventually, but I’m not okay with anyone having to do it by cancer. We can beat this.
My eldest daughter worried with me about her grandmother and father. She asked what we would do if Mimi died. She helped care for Daddy as he healed from surgery. She hugged them both tenderly, with great care to be cautious of stitches or sore places where surgeons had worked magic.
Now, as a family of survivors, this little soul is choosing to still fight. Her school is participating in a 5K run in our town where all the proceeds go towards cancer treatment and research right here in our region. This event has raised over $7.5 million over its 12 years.
This year she can’t wait to participate and do her part.
She’s 10.
She’s so excited to show off her cancer-surviving dad on race day. Not to show off how lucky she is that he’s here with her, but to obviously illustrate that she knows. She knows cancer’s pain.
A week later is the annual Canadian Cancer Society mud race, Grapes of Wrath, I did for June. And I’m running it again. This will be my third time. And June, it’s for you every time, but now it’s for my mom and my hubs, and other friends too.
My little family, we can’t cure it, but we can fight it.
If you would like to donate to either of our runs you can do so by following the links below:
Addison’s Rankin Cancer Run: https://secure.rankincancerrun.com/donate/register-donor
Rebecca’s Grapes of Wrath Run: http://convio.cancer.ca/site/TR/UnitFundraisingEvent/General?px=5046251&pg=personal&fr_id=23401
Thank you for helping us kick cancer’s ass!