I had lived a cancer-free society for a long time because of my unawareness. Looking back, my grandpa and grandpa-in-law were victims of cancer. However, my awareness of living with cancer came to my sense because of Sr. Paul who diagnosed colon cancer in 2007 and died in March, 2010. I lost my best friend because of cancer. While she was suffering, I talked about cancer, preached and prayed over it. By being affected, cancer became something indispensable in my life, that is, something cancerous.
When I was in Immokalee, Florida for the immersion trip last March, I got a call in the middle of the night. It was my older brother who said that my mom diagnosed colon cancer. Colon Cancer! It was the cancer that was almost taking Sr. Paul’s life at that time. Devastation, anger and fear overwhelmed me. And Sr. Paul’s death in two weeks was a culmination.
My mom got a surgery immediately. Her part of colon was removed and the surgery was successful. Nevertheless, she had to begin chemotherapy to make it sure that cancer is completely exterminated. In every process, I thought of Sr. Paul because, while I was walking with her last three years, I had learned what it means to be with a cancer patient. The only difference is that the patient is no longer Sr. Paul but my mom.
It was the first Relay for Life to me. I took part in the Relay because it seemed a noble cause. However, soon I found it was not just a noble thing to do. When the Luminaria ceremony began, I realized I was standing on the holy ground. The JCU students shared their experiences of cancer through their beloved one’s suffering. I recognized Rudy Donatelli whose father died in three weeks because of cancer.
After the speakers, a presider asked us to stand if we had someone died of cancer by calling these-My spouse, My grandpa, My aunt, My uncle…I stood up in My friend. It was solemn and amazing. Every names on the wall glittered with its Luminaria that surrounded us. I knew every light of the Luminaria had a story. We are left to tell a story, a story of suffering, love and hope. When a presider called names in memory of, the gospel for this Sunday became alive. The good shepherd knows his sheep for he calls them by name. I called Sr. Paul and remembered my mom by name. As we relayed together, it was a time of carrying memories and stories that will last until we meet again.