You never know how strong you can be, until you are tested.  Often these tests are nothing for which one can study.  In fact, there are no make-up quizzes or grading on a scale.  Often they are simply pass/fail and homework is key.  If one was religious, they might think the test was open book, with scriptures to search for answers….or they might seek answers through prayer.  But faith would be necessary to use those tools.  There was no study guide, or counseling, or coaching that could have prepared me, at 23 for the first test in my life where someone else’s life was hanging in the balance.

We grew up in an idyllic place and time.  Our parents were young when they started their family.  Young enough that dad would come home and play ball with us in the front yard.  Mom would sew and cook, and was home to get us on and off the bus when school took up a part of our day.  In the summers she would take us to the beach, to friend’s houses…and our neighborhood…

I don’t remember how we all found out about each other…probably the way kids have of making friends…naturally.  There was Rodney up around the corner…we didn’t know him as well because he was a bit further away….Jay, Lynn and Pam up the street, Heidi, Eric and Lief, then us (Denise, Debbie and Dennis), then Ellen, Joyce, Larry and Sally.  I remember Jonathan and he had Priscilla and Susan (I think) as sisters.  They were older.  There was Thaiylie (older) and her brothers Anders and Eric, then down around the corner was Jimmy and Tommy, then Donna and Joe, then Mike and Cathy….We knew the  kids on the next streets over in either direction.

Jimmy was killed in a car accident while on a family vacation when he was 10 years old.  I was 9.  He and I, in our childhood world, were already planning to get married.  But like the rest of the kids in the neighborhood, we were astonished at how difficult his death was for our parents.  We moved on.  We met other kids in school, and we were growing up and apart.  It was difficult to understand that as we were of different ages, it was natural for us to migrate to the kids we met in school who were in the same grades.  So we drifted.  And began to develop ourselves…

In September of 1985, I was 23. My sister and I still lived at home, and my brother had moved out.  We had survived the teenaged years and were not ashamed to admit that our parents were our friends.  Albeit, these were new relationships for all of us, but we liked each other and it was a start.

I remember very little.  It was September.  It had to be late September, but I forget the date.  The leaves had started to change.  It was a beautiful sunny day.  I went to the Doctor’s with my mom.  All I knew was that she had found a lump, they did some tests and we were going to his office to learn the results.  His name was Dr. McAffe and he said, “I’m sorry,” to my mom.  “You have stage 4 breast cancer.”

September 23, 1961