Light The Night

On the wall in my living room, I have pictures of the people I love most in the world. Among those pictures, hanging above my entertainment center, is an 8x10 of the greatest person I've ever known in my life. She's my grandmother, affectionately called Yia Yia by my sister, my brothers, my cousins and I.

She was the light of all of our lives, and when she died, our family seemed to be irreparably broken. Watching the person I loved, the person whose morals and principles shaped my own character, slowly lose her life over the course of four years was devastating. I went through an immeasurable amount of emotional anguish knowing that she was dying, and that nothing I could say or do would change that fact.

True, we all have to die at some point. That's the human condition. But I'd like to think that we don't have to suffer the way she did. The way others have before her, and the way even more have since her passing in 1996.

I wish I could say that upon her passing, I made a vow to take a courageous stand to raise money for cancer research and that I've been working tirelessly toward that end all this time. The truth is, though, I didn't. Instead, I spent years feeling helpless and hopeless, wallowing in the feelings of anger and sadness that consumed me in the aftermath.

Then one day I walked into an oncology clinic and saw posters for this event called Light The Night. I had no idea what it was about, but I wanted to learn more, so I did my research. It turns out that this event is held across the country, every year and it raises money to fund research and advance the fight against blood cancers. Since then, I've been on board, doing what I can to raise money and awareness.

As it turns out, this year I have an even bigger incentive to raise money. One of my old friends, a man I consider a mentor, was diagnosed with cancer over the Holiday Season. He was given exactly eight months to live.

I can't tell you how jolted I am by this news. For a while I admit, I felt useless and depressed about the diagnosis. But then I got angry at myself, and I gave myself a swift kick in the ass, so to speak. Then I got myself together and set a new goal.

In the past, all I've tried to raise was $100. If I went over that mark, I considered it to be a bonus. This year, I want to raise $500. So, I'm going to make a pledge of my own. If I hit my goal of $500, I'll dye my hair blonde for a week. Platinum Blonde, and I'll twist it up into spikes the way I used to (when I was a twenty something on the prowl). I've even uploaded a pic of myself in full spike mode to motivate the giving...

First thing's first.. here's the link to my donation page