Esta Faye - a mother, a grandmother, a
radiant smile, an inspiration, an independent woman, and a fighter. Although I
do not remember all of the details, I do remember the time spent with her -
always surrounded by her joyful nature - whenever I visited her house at the
beach in Charleston, SC. From encouraging my unhealthy obsession with Play-doh
and Thomas the Tank Engine to trying to teach me Chinese checkers. From
trips to the zoo to trying to the hand-stitched-applique quilt of my family
members, which now - 14 years later - I still have. But I learned all too
quickly about the bittersweet aspect of life. In October 1994, 5 months
before I was born, she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.
5 years later, in November of
1999, the cancer returned. To a kindergartener, the concept of cancer is
complex. Two years later, on March 25, 2001, I lost my grandmother. At the
funeral, I remember my mom telling me it was okay to cry at the funeral. I
remember watching all of the adults cry except for me. I had no emotional
understanding of what cancer had done. I remember that of all the things
to be upset about, my 6-year-old self was devastated that I had lost my perfect
attendance at school. I was too young, as far too many of us are when we lose a
grandparent to cancer, to understand the true impact of what had been lost by
me and my family.
But as I have grown older, there is
one loss that stands out the most: time. Time, I missed out on making memories
that my siblings have of spending summers in Myrtle Beach with Nanny. All the inside jokes Sarah and Nanny had - like when they told
people they were going outside to drink by the woodpile. The time where she
peed her pants in terror after a parrot in a beach convenience store talked to
her. Or the terrible fishing accident in which my sister Judy’s hook attached
to her shirt, ripping it off. I remember my grandmother second-hand
through my older siblings; I have their memories of laughter and joy, and I try
to take their memories as my own. But it falls short of what I deserve to know
about her.
But, I believe nanny would be proud, for we have never forgotten her love and
her humour. The latter in which I wish I could have experienced with maturity,
but I share this obsession with nanny’s favorite holiday movie, actually I
obsess over it year round, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. As Clark
Griswold says, “We're all in this together. This is a full-blown,
four-alarm holiday emergency here.” The time has come that when cancer comes
knocking at our door that it encounters “the jolliest bunch of assholes”
because we can finally beat cancer and get right back to making memories.
Right now, I am ready to end this
epidemic that removed a fearless woman. Despite being dragged through a storm
twice, she empowered us to live with never ending hope and to never back down.
So now, I Relay. I Relay so that my kids will have their own memories of their
grandmother instead of having to rely on second-hand stories. They deserve the
time to make the memories. I Relay for breast cancer free lifestyles in Esta’s
five beautiful daughters and granddaughters. I Relay for my cousins and their
children, so they can experience more of Esta’s love through their beautiful mothers
and grandmothers. I Relay because cancer can’t take the love and memories of
our loved ones, and we should not allow it to take it from children.
RelayLove,
