FOR THE SUN CHRONICLE

In the midst of the annual Relay for Life season, today's column reflects on what the event has meant to me.

My first encounter with this American Cancer Society fundraiser was seven years ago when I joined our church's team, collected donations, and dedicated my individual walk to my mother.

If you have never participated in the Relay for Life, you may not realize that it is actually much more than a benefit for the ACS, although raising money is a major focus and commitment. It is a community affair that joins friends and neighbors, cancer survivors and caretakers, local businesses and more. Uniting to remember, honor, support and push for a cure.

What has stuck in my mind the most about my first relay in 2001 was walking, lap after lap, reading the names on the luminarias that lined the field and trying to locate the ones on which I'd written the names of my mother Gloria, my cousin Mary Ellen and my co-worker Fran. Each had died too young from cancer. I walked most of the night and early morning hours by myself, making it my private tribute to my mom. While feeling sad for the occasion, I was equally thankful to have the quiet solitude to remember and miss her.

In 2002 and 2003, I must have been too busy to join a team, but gladly wrote a check instead. Then my world changed and I no longer had the luxury of being too busy to think about cancer because I myself became a victim.

Just weeks after finishing months of chemo, I walked my first survivor lap in 2004. The emotion welled up inside of me as I soaked up the applause and proudly paraded around in my purple survivor shirt.

Surrounded by my family, as well as a whole sea of purple shirts, I felt as if I was the only one taking that lap, as if all the cheers were just for me. I'd fought a good fight, even if it was scary and imperfect, so I took off my cap and saluted the crowd. For once I didn't mind standing out as the one who had cancer.

In 2005, I was back again, only this time my teenage niece wore purple, too. She had leukemia and at first seemed reluctant to attend the relay. However, her feisty "I AM a survivor" mentality kicked in and she quickly embraced the excitement. She was accepting that we are different because of all we'd gone through, sharing a bond with other survivors, acknowledging that our supporters can only offer what they can - cheers and smiles, monetary donations, and more cheers and smiles.

Jackie pulled my arm, "Come on Auntie Lori, let's hold the banner." How could I resist her enthusiasm? We walked right up front. It was a bond I never would have wished for her, but a bond forever nonetheless.

The walk in 2006 was sad for me because it had only been a few months since my cancer had returned, leaving me alternately depressed, angry and emotionless. I flippantly thought, "Why bother with the stupid relay?" My cancer had come back, what was the point? Someone reminded me of the newer drugs and procedures to combat my cancer that had not been available just a few years earlier, but I didn't want to listen. Of course she was right, nevertheless it was a somber walk. I needed to find my own way and, in time, get over it.

What a difference a year makes. In 2007, I was so happy, so healthy, so back to normal that I almost felt like an imposter in purple. I'd moved on from being a cancer patient, even though I still was one. I walked with the same sense of purpose as I did back in 2001 before I ever knew I would be diagnosed with cancer; I walked for those who could not. Silently reading the names on all those luminarias again. Remembering a friend, Holly, who had not made it to another survivor lap because of this cruel disease.

Now it is 2008. I recently spoke at the Providence College Relay for Life, and I look forward to the Greater Attleboro Area Relay in June as a guest speaker. It is my honor to continue using my voice to raise awareness. Mostly, I will speak because of Geralyn, Bette, Nancy, Sheree, Maureen, and the countless others fighting cancer this year.

Together we must try to make a difference because, unfortunately, each year there will be new names added to the list.