Another year has passed. But not a day has gone by that I don't
miss my mom. Birthdays and
holidays that were once greeted with happiness are now riddled with sadness. There is a void in our lives that can
never be filled. Although I am
deeply saddened for all the moments I will not be able to share with my mother,
I am so grateful for all the wonderful memories that I do have. I would like to share with you some of
the lessons that my mother, Pam taught me. They were instilled on my sister and I from a young age, and
were shown to us through example. She would laugh and say, "Do as I say and not as I do." But I aspire every day to live my life
the way my mother lived hers.
Smile.
Laugh.
OFTEN.
Tell jokes. (Even if you sometimes forget the punch
line)
Throw yourself into whatever
you are doing whole-heartedly.
Keep your friends and family
close.
Write letters. (Real letters)
Take pictures. (Lots of pictures)
Write thank you cards
Volunteer.
It is never 'too late' to do
anything.
Age is a state of mind.
Beauty is found in confidence
and modesty.
Always make sure the people
you love know it.
During these trying economic times, I know that
we all have to use more discrection when deciding how to spend our money. Unfortunately cancer has no regard for
the economy. This disease
continues to plague our world and take our loved ones. Already this year I know two more
people who have been given the dreaded diagnosis. We have to continue this fight. Dana Farber needs our support so they can continue their
groundbreaking cancer research and treatment. Literally every dollar helps.
I am committed to riding two days and 163 miles
again this year in the Pan-Massachusetts challenge. I look forward to getting back on my bike and starting my
training. Although the Pan-Mass is
a two-day event, it is truly a year -long commitment. As I begin my journey again to the finish line in August, I
want to thank you all for your continued support.
Last year's letter:
It's not about the bike. Throughout my life I have always believed that we are only given as much as we can handle. And any obstacle that came my way I strived to view as an opportunity, a chance to grow stronger. Then, this past October my world was turned upside down when I lost my mother to a short and scary battle with ovarian cancer. I still remember the phone call from my father. It was unusual to only talk to him; usually it was my mom who would want to chat. He told me that my mother had to have surgery. Is everything okay? I asked. He told me they wouldn't know more until after the surgery. I flew home to Maryland that weekend. When I arrived home my father sat me down and told me, "Your mother has cancer." Sometimes those words still don't seem real. How could it be? She was the picture of good health! Ate healthy, exercised, did everything right! It just didn't make sense. The next week, my father, sister and I became her full time moral support at Mercy Hospital. Arriving at the beginning of visiting hours and staying until the end. Most of the time was spent reading, and just keeping my mother company while she rested. She had extensive surgery, but seemed to be recovering better than we could have expected. My sister and I returned to Florida and Boston respectively. The doctors were waiting for the pathology report. Not a week later, my father called, they needed me to come back to Maryland. That was all he said. I remember my head spinning, I just knew. I flew home immediately. When I arrived at the hospital, my father sat me down. The cancer was aggressive, it had spread, the only thing they could do was keep her comfortable. Those words still ring in my head as I try to make sense of it all. My mother was diagnosed with cancer September 24th 2007. On October 14th 2007, she was gone and my life was changed forever. I remember the cab ride to the airport telling my friend that I could handle her being sick and getting better, but I couldn't handle losing her, not my mom. I am still figuring it out and will be for the rest of my life. But in this short time I have come to realize that we are not given what we can handle. We handle what we are given. I am only 24 years old, and it scares me to think of the number of people and families I know who this disease has affected. Although I am still figuring out how to adjust to such a monumental change in my life there is one thing that I knew I must do. And that is to give back.
So, this August as I ride my bike 163 miles across Massachusetts, I think Lance Armstrong was right with his book title, It's Not About The Bike. It's not, it's about my mom. I'm riding for her.
Anyone who ever met my mother, Pam, would describe her as full of life, positive, healthy, active, always smiling, and always giving 110% to everything! Oh and her favorite color was purple! My childhood is filled with memories of her upbeat voice, as she would bounce in my room to wake me up for school, still smelling of chlorine from her morning swim. As I moved toward adulthood I would look forward to our evening walks around the neighborhood, a chance to get out and exercise and also for some mom/daughter time just to chat. One summer, home from college I even joined her at the YMCA for those early morning swims. Exercise was a constant in her life and something we shared as a family. My mother was also a talented writer, who this past fall had begun a new career as a professor. Writing this letter has been challenging, as she was the one who always edited my papers.
I grew up in Ellicott City, MD. In 2005 I graduated from Northeastern University with a degree in Communications. In 2007 I graduated from Paul Mitchell The School, Tampa, FL. I am now, back in Boston and currently pursuing my career in the salon industry, working at Stilisti on Newbury Street. I love doing hair and everything about the business. I love running and biking around the Charles River and also enjoy yoga. All of which are as much a mental reprieve as a physical challenge.
This past January I joined my sister, Samantha, in Florida for my first marathon at Disney. I was daunted by the task, but my sister, mom and dad never doubted me. In the early morning dusk as thousands of racers were herded into our starting places, Jeff Galloway addressed the crowd. He was telling the story of his first marathon and remembered a quote he had heard, "the person who starts the marathon, is not the same person who finishes it." I still remember the feeling, an indescribable one, when I rounded the corner and saw the finish line. Samantha and I crossed it together, holding hands. I am already looking forward to crossing the finish line together again next year.
This August, Samantha and I will be riding together in the Pan Mass Challenge. For me, this is not only a physical challenge; it will be mental and very emotional. I am riding for my mother, who was taken too soon. I am riding for my father, whose immense strength continues to support me. I am riding with my sister whose strength, motivation and encouragement moves me. I am riding for my friends and family who have provided me with strength and comfort and I feel blessed to have. And I am riding for all the other families fighting this battle.
Thank you for your support and generosity.
"Walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. Let their spirit ignite a fire within you to leave this world better than when you found it."
(Wilferd Peterson)
