Today I was eating Easter lunch with my grandmother when she told me she's her car for eight years. Why did that stand out to me? Because my grandma bought her new car after my grandfather died, trading in two cars for one. In my family, a lot of things are measured in "before" and "after". The last time we went to church was "before". My aunt started a new job "after". For me, it's the "afters" that are starting to get to me.
I was in seventh grade when I got the news. I was called down to the main office on February 13th, the day before Valentines Day (which had always been my favorite holiday). I remember that I was in science when my teacher told me to go to see the principal. We had recently hatched fresh water salmon and were checking on them. When I saw my mom waiting for me, I knew. So much of the days following my grandfather's death are still branded into my mind. I remember having to pick out clothes for the funeral, reading a passage during the mass and my mom giving my sister and me bracelets that said my grandfather's favorite word on them for valentines day - hope. I doubt I will ever forget these things.
My grandfather was first diagnosed with cancer around the time that I was born. He had to have his voice box removed and as long as I knew him he had to speak with the help of a machine, so his voice always sounded mechanical. I miss that. Although the doctors had not given him a good prognosis back then (something we only found out recently), my grandfather when into remission for thirteen years. It was during Christmas in 2007 that my grandfather seemed a bit off and when he went home things got worse. We thought he was getting Alzheimer's. After he was taken to the hospital, we found out that the forgetfulness was caused by his liver producing chemicals like ammonia that were poisoning his brain. It was liver cancer. The doctor's gave him four weeks and this time, his body listened to them.
Those four weeks are a blur to me. We stayed in school and kept up our normal routines, except for a few days when we stayed with my dad so my mom could go home. I was so angry that I couldn't go too, but my grandpa wanted me to stay in school. School was always important to him. He used to call me to ask what I was reading, just so he could read the same book. When he visited he would spend hours doing homework with me. He was the smartest person I have ever met. The night before he passed away my mom was on the phone with him and asked if he wanted to talk to us. At first he said no, then he changed his mind and spoke to each of us for a few minutes. He passed away in his sleep that night. To my thirteen year old self, it felt like the world was crashing down around me.
I've been told before that I shouldn't still care this much. That "people die from cancer all the time". That's a problem. My grandfather was one of my best friends and I will always miss him. I relay because he never saw me get into Penn. Nor will he see me graduate. He will not dance with me at my wedding. I relay because so many people are affected by cancer and each of those people and their families have stories like mine.
This is the first year since 2008 that I am not on the planning committee for my school's Relay for Life. In high school, I was the president of our equivalent of Colleges Against Cancer for three years and then returned the following year to help plan it as well. In college, I was also as involved as I could be with the rest of my responsibilities. But not this year. However, I am still a team captain and will probably do so until there is no need to relay any more.
There's a large part of me that is terrified of another family member getting cancer. Or another friend. Or myself or my future children. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a huge motivation for why I relay. But I would also be lying if I said that I don't still cry for my grandfather occasionally. And because of that, I will always relay, and I hope that you do too.
