Once
upon a time there was a beautiful Queen that resembled Grace Kelly.
She married a wonderful King and in time had a Princess and Prince of her
own. One day this beautiful
Queen found a lump in her breast. The
good doctors of the land performed miracles with their magical treatments and
today she is cancer free.
The
doctors of the land cannot always perform these miracles.
They need help. She, along
with thousands of other women, walked on a journey of magnificent proportions.
It was the Avon
Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk to help raise money for the magical
treatments.
I
know this queen. She is brave and
strong and by some miracle has beaten the odds.
She is my aunt. But she is
not alone. Thousands of women are
diagnosed every day with Breast Cancer. Millions
of Mothers, Aunts, Daughters and Sisters fight this battle everyday.
Hopefully, one day everyone will win.
I
was lucky enough to be able to welcome her and the thousand other brave women
back home in Chicago. As I watched
the women pour in, tired, bruised and limping, I couldn’t stop cheering. I watched as they helped each other, arms entwined,
continuing to inch forward so they all could fit. As they took off their shoes
and waved them in the air, I was so moved by their strength and character, that
I began to cry.
The
cheers got louder as they announced more walkers were coming.
That’s
when we saw them. The Pink Shirts. Breast Cancer Survivors.
These women had not only battled a disease and won it, but they were
walking 72 miles to help others win.
My
aunt was in a Pink Shirt.
I
couldn’t see her, but I knew she was there.
She couldn’t see us, but she knew we were there.
The
rally was wonderful. It inspired,
congratulated and thanked the thousands who had participated in the walk and
also the spectators that had come to welcome the walkers home.
When
the rally finished, my family circled the grounds searching for our champion.
I scanned and scanned and couldn’t find her.
I kept walking around. I
congratulated many women, complete strangers to me, but yet so familiar.
They could have been my aunt, my mother, my sister or my friend.
So familiar...
Then
I saw her.
I
wasn’t sure what to say, I was so proud of her and so emotional, words
wouldn’t work.
So
I screamed.
So
did she.
We
hugged and kissed and jumped up and down screaming! It was perfect.
She
was home. She was safe.
She was our hero.
As
merely a spectator to the disease that had threatened my beloved aunt’s life,
I can only say that Faith, Hope and Love are what I believe brought her back to
us.
