To The Cancer Spectators and Coaches

On this last day of July, I don't only celebrate the last day of the month before school starts, but the life of a woman whom I love so much. Today marks nine years since my dad's mom passed away. My aunt put it best; "She loved summer thunderstorms, baby calves racing, purple anything, wild sweetpeas blooming in the spring, cooking for her family, red lipstick kisses, toodling around the farm with Melvin, dancing with her sons, long visits with her girls, hearing stories again and again, her grandkids, and all of the simple things in life. Eight (she wrote this last year) years ago we said good-bye-for now...today we remember with laughter and smiles, and embrace her sweet memory." 

I was only eight when my grandma died, so my memories with her are precious and few. She was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 60, which had taken her mother and four sisters. She had red hair, like me, more of an orange-carrot color, but I still smile knowing that my hair came from her. She always had chocolate pie made for when we would visit, teach us a little Czech, and make us eat our lima beans. Even though in most of my memories she was sick, you would have never known. Her spirit was incredible and she always was smiling. Her pickles were the best in the world and she hated wearing a wig. I will never forget her love for purple; she was baptized in a purple outfit, wore purple at any family occasion, and was dressed in purple when she was buried. She loved red lipstick and gave us kisses that stained our cheeks. We always peeled potatoes together and would eat half of a raw one after we were done. She chose the most beautiful china dolls for me for Christmas when I was seven. They are so special to me, as they were the last gift she chose for me. In my last memory with her, I had just taken a shower and she asked to brush my hair. I quickly said yes, as I love to have my hair brushed. We sat there in her chair for over an hour, as she brushed my hair and talked to me in a way that only grandmas can. When my parents came home from a trip early, to tell us she had passed away, I was crushed. When we drove the three-hour trip to go to her funeral, I sat in the back under a blanket crying. The funeral was so pretty and I loved seeing the pictures from when she was young. I look just like her. I had never seen my dad cry the way he did at her funeral and it made me so sad. But that's not what Grandma would have wanted. She lived a wonderful life and raised a spectacular family that is adored by many. 

I miss her with my whole heart. 

Grandma as a baby

Grandpa & Grandma

A year before she died

This year, thinking of her makes me wish I had more time with her, but also realize how much of a gift time is. My sister has hardly any memories of her, which makes me so sad. It also makes me think of a girl at my school who's mom is dying of the same disease. She's one of those girls who is well-known to everyone, and kind to everyone too. I can't even think of losing my mom right now. 

Cancer is awful, the worst thing on earth. The day when people, young and old, don't have to suffer through the pain and fear of the disease will be a day I want to be at. There is no worse feeling than watching someone in pain when there is nothing you can do. So this post is dedicated to the cancer warriors among us, but also to those like me. The spectators, who can only watch and pray for this disease to die, and the coaches, who work to help our warriors through research and knowledge. Love to you all.

 Miluji tě navždy babičku. 

xo
Hannah