My mother was a southern belle who was lovely inside and out. She found a malignant lump in her breast in 1973 at the age of 45, and had a radical mastectomy.
Mom was told that if she survived ten years from her first diagnosis, she'd have beaten the cancer. The next nine years brought multiple recurrences of the disease, removal of her ovaries, adrenal glands and lymph nodes, along with numerous cycles of chemotherapy and radiation.
She fought the disease with such grace and determination that there were people in our lives who never even knew she was sick. She continued to care for our family without complaint or self-pity.
On Valentine's Day in that ninth year of her battle, Mom was hospitalized for the last time. I spent the last six weeks of her life by her side. Witnessing her great suffering, strength and her ultimate peace was the most difficult experience of my life. It was also a great blessing of my life, largely informing who I became and who I still hope to be.
The placard on her urn carries the words of my Dad, which perfectly represent her presence then, now and forever: Courageous. Joyful. Elegant.
South Salem, NY
