When I started this blog as part of a writing course, it was a lark. As the course continued I made an effort to write a minimum of three posts a week for five weeks to prove that I could consistently come up with original content.
All Good Things …
Then the course ended, which was all well and good, but I had gotten attached to the blog, I had begun to savour its flavour. I enjoyed the challenge of writing for it and I often used it to vent. In the last couple of months it has allowed me to explore ADHD and has become almost an ADHD blog in its own right.
But it is still my blog, and I am not ADHD.(that didn’t come out right) What I mean to say is I am not just ADHD. It is not the only thing that defines me. I am a musician. I am a writer. I am a photographer. I am a cook and a boater and a biker and a fisherman and … well, I am all these things and more. And on Friday night I was a member of a team that walked in the Relay For Life, a fund raising event that would put an end to Cancer if given enough support.
There isn’t one thing in this world that is as wide spread and common as Cancer, that is also so insidious. Cancer does not target any one age group, it has no gender preference, it is not prejudice towards or against any race, creed or religion. It is an equal opportunity killer.
It takes all comers and would lay them all out. It takes too many but still we fight. We research and explore and learn and try and every day more people are taken from us and every day we get up and prepare ourselves for battle again. It is not in our nature to allow the toll without remembrance and mourning. Nor would we let them go from us without planning to save those who are left to us. We are not taken quietly.
The Relay For Life is an event that raises funds for this battle with Cancer. It gives people the chance to gather together and draw strength from each other. It gives them a chance to remember those gone and to promise help to those on the front lines, as patients or as care givers.
As I was rounding the track on Friday evening and the luminaries were being lit, each one bearing the name of someone who had done battle with cancer, I was amazed at how many there were. It seemed like too many. It seemed to be more than enough, and yet this disease is unstopped.
Each candle, sitting in sand in a paper bag, flickering in the gentle night air seemed to say “Let us be the last.” But you and I know they will not be the last. A year from now the path will be lit again. The little flickering lights will ask once more “Have you had enough of us yet?” And as sad as that is to hear, I will still be there with others who can not hear these pleas without doing something.
I hope next year you will join us. I hope you will walk or pledge or buy a luminary in memory or honour of someone. I also hope that next year will be the last time the Relay For Life will be needed. I hope …