Wednesday, January 28, 2015

FIGHT TO THE FINISH

When I joined the varsity swim team my freshman year of high school, I had no idea how much of an impact it was going to have on my life. I walked into the first day of practice intimidated yet eager, anxious to see what this team was all about. That is when Coach Joe Gentry walked into my life, and he has remained there ever since. Joe passed away this past November, after a very long battle with prostate cancer. While I am still grappling with the loss and the grief, as are all of his loved ones, my teammates, and all those whose lives he touched (believe me—it was a lot), I will to try to do him justice in this short blog post. I want make it known what a true inspiration this man was to every person he met, and why I have and always will continue to Relay.



It is an understatement to say Joe Gentry was popular in the Virginia Beach community. Joe Gentry was nothing short of a celebrity. Play the “six-degrees-of-separation” game with anyone you know, and I guarantee you’ll find a connection to Joe Gentry. This is a testament to the type of man Joe was. When you talked to Joe, he listened. And I mean, really listened. He would stare into you with his piercing blue eyes, intent on getting to know the “you” beneath the surface. He connected with every single person he encountered, and beyond connection, he inspired every single person as well.


Joe was the type of fighter who acted as if he wasn’t fighting at all. During the many ups and downs of his battle with cancer, my teammates and I watched Joe spend countless hours on the pool deck in between treatments, and it seemed he was always standing over us and yelling that we needed to quit slacking off (in the best way possible). He was a biology teacher at my high school as well, and was extremely devoted to his students. When his cancer became more demanding, he was constantly coming in for half-days and absolutely dreading getting a substitute on days when he was feeling really bad. Coaching and educating were his life’s work. He and his wife Debbie always told us, not having kids of their own, that we were their children. That meant the world to all of us swimmers.




Joe was constantly fighting, but he lived life better than any person I know.  This man literally oozed love and compassion. There is just no better way to put it. But beneath this love was a fire—a passion to coach and to lead. He inspired me to be the best I could be in everything I did. There were swim practices when I would be swimming so many 100 freestyles that I practically lost count, on the verge of giving up or just feeling extremely frustrated and over it. But when I would look to my side to breathe and see Coach Gentry, a man battling something so much bigger than any of us could imagine, something incomparable to a tough swim set or a hard day at school, I was motivated to keep going. He instilled in me, and so many others, a sense of perseverance and pride that I am thankful for every day.


When I found out about the severity of Joe’s illness this past November, I made a trip home to Virginia Beach to see him. I found myself in denial that it could be the last time I’d see him, and I could barely compose myself. While the image of Joe in his last few days remains in my mind, a much stronger image of him will permeate for my lifetime. This image is Coach—an image of a passionate leader, the kindest soul, a true giver, and the strongest man I will ever have the pleasure and privilege to know. Joe Gentry is why I Relay, and why I will continue the fight to end this dreadful disease. I fight for more years with the ones who inspire us, who love us, and make us better each and every day.


I fight for Joe Gentry, because I know for a fact he fought for me.



RelayLove, 

Thursday, January 15, 2015

MAKE A DIFFERENCE

              When I was in 5th grade, I remember being in the kitchen after dinner and my parents asking my brother and me to come sit on the couch with them. That’s when they told us. My dad had colon cancer. At the time I was young, but I knew what cancer was. I knew how serious it was, but they told me that everything was going to be okay, so I believed them. He soon started chemo. Every week my mom and dad would make trips up to John’s Hopkins to receive the treatment. For a while, everything was going well, but the cancer kept spreading. A few months later, he was admitted into the hospital, and then another month later passed away. Whenever someone asks me to think of a hard time in my life, or a really sad time, this is the only time that ever pops up into my head. As the oldest, I had not only known my dad the longest, but I now felt as if I had a bigger responsibility to help my mom, brother and sister.


Growing up, it was always fun to see the reactions on people’s faces when they found out that my dad was an astronaut. Everyone’s next question was always if he had been to space. Yes, three times actually. My Dad was an explorer, an engineer, a pilot and a true contributor to world progress and innovation.  But most of all, he was my dad.  It has been six years now since he passed away.  Perceptions of moments with my father have not been changed by the years. There are things that I have forgotten, that I wish I did not, but certain things will always remain.


              Whenever I feel like I’m facing a hard situation - getting up for my 8 am class, studying for a midterm, or dealing with everyday things, I think back to my dad.  Think back to memories of him and of his dedication even throughout his chemo treatments. This memory always helps me get through whatever that tough problem may be, because life could be so much worse. A man with so much determination and modesty could still run 4 miles every morning and then get treatment in the afternoon, so little things should not bother me.
Since I’ve been at UVA, I find myself thinking of my dad more than ever. In a different place, on my own, away from everything familiar, deciding what I want to do for the rest of my life. All I want to do is sit down and have him tell me exactly what to do, giving me his thoughtful words of wisdom and sharing his wonderful stories.


This is one of the reasons why I love Relay For Life at UVA and Exec board. We all have come together for a cause that is so important to each and every one of us. Every single person has a story, has been affected, and knows the pains cancer brings in some way. Together, we can fight back.
We can question all we want - why things happen, how cancer could take someone so incredible, but cancer has no preference. That’s where we come in - to raise awareness about early detection, find new treatments, find a cure and BEAT cancer.
My dad once said in a speech:  "Having a dream and working hard to achieve it, and then doing so, is very rewarding. It is even more rewarding if the realization of your dreams benefits not just you, but other individuals, or your community or country. So make a contribution along the way -- to your fellow citizens, your country, or the world. Make the fact that you exist meaningful to the world. Make a difference."
              Relay for Life is one of those many contributions I hope to make along the way. I relay to make a difference. I relay to fight for something so important to me. I relay for all of the dads, moms, and families. I relay in memory and in honor. I relay to celebrate, to remember, and to fight back.

With Relay Love,

Monday, January 5, 2015

MY FAVORITE THING

When I was little, my grandmother, Nene, and I used to watch The Sound of Music together, regularly. She always curled my hair in rollers, and I routinely modeled my finest smock stitched dress so I felt like one of the Von Trapp children.

You can imagine the sing-a-longs. Chanting at the top of our lungs, "Doe a deer, a female deer, Ray, a drop of golden sun,” and "So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight," was enough to cause alarm to the neighbors, scare the birds from the tree outside the front door, and send the dog into hiding, who had also dressed the part. 

  

Over the holidays, I often tune into the season’s television specials. A few days before Christmas, The Sound of Music aired, and as if no time had passed, I found myself humming the chorus of, “My Favorite Things,”

 When the dog bites,
 When the bee stings,
 When I’m feeling sad,
  I simply remember my favorite things
 And then I don’t feel so bad.

Today, I visited Evergreen Burial Park, leaving behind a daffodil, a pack of Juicy Fruit gum, a York peppermint patty, a basketball, an Elvis tape, a Virginia Tech pom-pom and a Nascar Hotwheel, along with a few family photos. These represent many of Nene's favorite things, and today is the two-year anniversary of her funeral, after she passed away forgoing treatment for lung cancer. 


The ones we love deserve all the time in the world & more to spend with their favorite things, as do you and I, and Nene was one of mine. Today, as well as everyday, I am remembering her.  And today, as well as everyday, I am continuing her fight against cancer.

With RelayLove,

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