Create Your Own Fundraiser

It was 2019, when I received the news that my Dad had cancer. It seems like just yesterday and I will never forget that phone call. Its like my whole world came to a halt and all I could think about was please God, let my Dad beat this. I mean it’s my Dad, he seemed like he would never even get a cold, yet here we were. The next several months were a constant emotional roller coaster. Good news, then bad news, then we were given hope of surgery, then it was taken away. My Dad was a fighter. He knew walking was important and he would get up and go for his walks regularly to try and keep himself strong. He attended all his treatments like clockwork, even though I’m sure many days, he didn’t even want to move. When I would call and talk to him the only thing he would say was that he was just so tired. Eating was very difficult eventually and that was so hard to watch as my dad began to lose more and more weight. I vividly recall the last time I visited my Dad before I lost him. I remember sitting in the living room, watching tennis, saying absolutely nothing to each other. We both were just enjoying the presence of one another. My dad was a huge tennis fan and loved to watch it. That day, before I left the room, I leaned in to give him a hug and he asked me to be gentle because his whole body was so tender to the touch. That was the last time I was able to physical speak to my Dad in person. It will be a memory I will cherish forever.  

When I lost my Dad, it affected me more than I could have ever imagined. It’s just one of those things you cannot fathom until it personally happens to you. I was angry and numb. It’s as if I just went into auto pilot and went about things like a robot. I hated showing up every day where it was expected to be normal, when inside I was screaming. I was expected to be present and act like everything was okay and just carry on and keep moving forward. Even though everything was the furthest from okay. I was happy his suffering was over, but I was so furious over the false hope we were continuously given that he would get better. I saw all the things I wanted to accomplish to make him proud flash before my eyes. I saw my father walking me down the aisle and my father daughter dance at my one-day wedding disappear. I saw my Dad seeing me buy my first home, disappear. My Dad watching my son graduate high school and going on to work on his dream cars become nothing. And I missed these accomplishment my younger siblings would achieve that my Dad would miss for them too.  

But throughout this, I will forever be grateful to my stepmom and younger brother for their grace and patience. I still look back at their strength and am in awe. They saw the parts that outsiders don’t see. The day-to-day care. The countless doctors’ appointments. The good days and the bad. The promising news and then the false hope. They took care of my Dad when we were hours away and despite getting down there as much as possible, we missed a lot.

I also cannot thank my closest friends and family for helping me get to the point I am today. They understand when October approaches that I get through this best from staying busy and they also plan to spend time with me doing things I love. An enormous thank you to the coaches and athletes at SJJ for everything they did when I lost my Dad. We were in the middle of football season, and I missed a Friday night game. I received so many texts and calls letting me know they were thinking of me. As well as that week’s game and the next being dedicated to me and my Dad. They will never ever truly know how much their kindness touched me during such a horrible time in my life. I will forever be grateful and will never ever forget them for what they did.

I’m hosting this event to bring awareness to how devastating this cancer is so that one day, no family will have to go through what my family went through. To give another family proactive strategies for this horrible diagnosis and know their loved one CAN and WILL beat this and have many years to live and enjoy life. I want to help fund earlier detection to decrease the heartache and loss of this 9-11% survival rate.