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 Every October, when Maryland is preparing for its annual Komen Race for the Cure, I think of the three Komen walks that I did with my daughter, Lynley and of all of the walks that I have done since, without her.
In early 1997, Lynley, who was twenty-six, was diagnosed with breast cancer, and our family began a long and hopeful journey that tested us all.
Christmas, 1996, was our family’s best ever. Our older son and his long-time sweetheart had become engaged, and we looked forward to planning an April wedding. Lynley, and her husband, Bill, who had been married almost two years, told us they were planning to start a family, and we hoped that by next Christmas there would be a new baby in the family. It couldn’t get any better. But just one week later, our happiness vanished in a second, when Lynley, at 26, discovered a lump in her breast and was diagnosed with breast cancer.
Lynley called on New Year’s Eve to say that she had found a lump in her breast during her self-examination and she asked what I thought she should do. I told her to see a doctor, but at her age, I was sure it would be nothing to worry about; I had never heard of anyone so young with breast cancer. After a lumpectomy, and a very long three day wait, it was confirmed that the lump was indeed malignant. The doctors recommended a mastectomy. All of us then went through the process of learning all that we could about her options and helping to make decisions that we hoped would be the right ones for her. The next few months included surgery - Lynley opted for a mastectomy and reconstruction - to be followed by chemotherapy and radiation. Both were very hard on her, but she was a fighter and very optimistic. After several good months, when we started to relax a bit, Lynley began to experience pain in her back, and tests showed cancer in a rib and in one of her lungs. Once again she began chemotherapy, and when scans showed no improvement, her doctor suggested three months of another type of the drugs. This chemotherapy also did nothing to halt her cancer.
All of her life, Lynley had been strong-willed and tenacious in pursuing her goals, and we certainly had our share of mother/daughter conflicts because of it. Now I realize that same stubbornness that made our relationship difficult at times was the force behind her fight with the disease. She had much to live for - our older son and his wife were expecting a baby, and she was to be his Godmother, and she was looking forward to her younger brother’s wedding in November. Lynley’s last outing was to help her future sister-in- law select her wedding gown. In spite of all of her optimism and an aggressive battle against the disease, on August 3rd, 1999, just two weeks after Drew, her Godson, was born, surrounded by her family, Lynley died. She never got to see the baby, as she had a staph infection, and the baby would have been most vulnerable.
Every mother hopes that her daughter will have a long and happy life ahead of her - filled with babies and friends and all of the wonderful things that have been part of her life. The reality was powerful that love and prayer really can’t make someone well, and it impacted all of us.
A few months after Lynley’s death, our next -door neighbor, Dayle, who had been Lynley’s babysitter, brought over a beautiful rocking chair for us. Inscribed was a bible verse, and there were two painted hearts hanging from it. On one was Lynley’s name, and Drew’s was on the other. Dayle told us the chair was for rocking Drew and telling him about his Aunt Lynley. It is one of our most treasured possessions.
A year after Lynley's death, Kathy and Jon Rudolf, friends of Lynley and Bill, planned a trek on the Appalachian Trail in Lynley’s memory and to bring attention to the fight against breast cancer. They hiked from April to October, from Georgia to Maine with a Raggedy Ann doll - Lynley’s favorite doll from childhood in their backpack.
Two years after Lynley’s death, her husband, Bill, told us he had met someone he cared very much about, and a year later, he married a young woman named Linda. At their wedding, Linda had a "money dance" in Lynley's memory and donated the money to the Komen Foundation, a very gracious gesture on her wedding day.
We have found that life does go on after a loved one’s death, even if you think it can’t. One day there will be a cure, but I sure wish it would hurry. I remember losing relatives to breast cancer sixty years ago; how long will it take to find out why it happens and how it can be cured? At our first Komen Walk, my husband and I cried when we saw young mothers, bald from chemotherapy, pushing their tiny babies in strollers, and we cried each year when Lynley crossed the Survivors Line, and they announced her name as a cancer survivor. And this year I will cry when I see the throngs of people walking, each with their own personal hope that their loved one will beat this horrible disease, and that there will soon be a cure.
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