Happy Birthday, Hero!

Today was a day of celebration for my family. We got together for the annual "Thompson Family Christmas", which involves my mother's side of the family converging upon someone's house to stuff our faces, watch the kids tear open presents, and trade old funny stories around the table. Needless to say, being the family person I am, I look forward to this every year. This year, we had even more to celebrate though. December 21st is my Aunt Holly's birthday and she is not one for pomp and circumstance. But this year we needed a celebration. You see, my Aunt Holly was diagnosed last Thanksgiving with colon cancer. It broke all of our hearts. She is my mom's youngest sister. She wasn't even 50 yet. This was not supposed to happen to her. But it did, and she vowed to fight it, and she won!
Aunt Holly always shared a special bond with me. I was born when she was 15 and she says that I was like her baby. All through my childhood I was told constantly how much I looked like Holly. We both were blond-haired and blue-eyed. We even share the same birthmark! I have so many memories of her from when I was a child. It was the 80s and she was just the coolest. She wore off the shoulder shirts, numerous belts, had a perm and drove a Camaro! I mean, what kid wouldn't idolize her in the 80s?
When Aunt Holly got pregnant, I remember wishing (sorry Anna) that she wouldn't have a girl because I wanted to always be the one that looked like her. I would sit and look at the family portrait that hung in my grandparent's dining room and marvel at how much it was like looking in the mirror.
Aunt Holly was my matron of honor at my wedding, and she is the godmother to my son, Sam. She means that much to me.
We remain intertwined. I'm now facing cancer dead in the face, just as she did last year at this time. I remember being devastated by the news of her diagnosis because it came out of the blue. I asked God "why?" more than once. She has three beautiful children, one still in school, this couldn't and it shouldn't be happening to her. Anyone that knows Aunt Holly, knows she is the embodiment of compassion...she's my Grandma T. She giggles at our jokes, she gives you the shirt off her back, and she never judges. How could this happen?
This year she fought for her life back, and you never would have known it by looking at her. She continued to work, she continued to laugh, she cried when no one was looking, and vowed she was going to win this fight. I watched as a family rallied for their sister. Everyone took turns taking her to her infusion appointments. I became pregnant and gave her another reason to fight...she was going to live and see that baby.
Months of chemo took a toll on her, yet I rarely saw her look defeated. She remained upbeat, tears were shed, but not when anyone was looking. Little did I know that Aunt Holly was forging the path for me. I had no idea that I would be looking to her, yet again, for inspiration and hope.
I was told of my malignancies on November 25. My mother was there with me, as was little Sam. Like I said in my first post, we howled and cried. But the first words we both were able to utter were, "We have to call Holly! She needs to be here." I sat in that small room with my doctor and continued to ask her "What am I going to do?" She knows my aunt as well, as she is her doctor, and she grabbed me by the hands looked me in the face and said, "You come from a family of strong fighters, you are going to beat this and you are going to look to your aunt for guidance."
Aunt Holly met me at the door when I got home that night. She let me scream, held me when I sobbed, and whispered in my ear "We got this." Aunt Holly allowed me one night to cry, to be mad, to act like a baby. But after that it was full-fight mode, positive attitude, and relentless support. I was not going to be in this fight alone. I was going to follow Aunt Holly's example, as I always had, and give this all I had. After all, it had worked for her. I'm happy to say that she has been cancer-free since the end of this summer. Remission is a word that makes me smile from ear-to-ear. In her words, "We got this!" and got it she did.
So tonight, as we gathered around the table, cousins, aunts, and little ones, we lit the candles on her cake and sang "Happy Birthday" with robust happiness. She clasped her hands at the end of the song, closed her eyes, and made a wish with all her might. And as she blew out the candles one-by-one, I couldn't help but think, "We got this!" and I will get this, because Aunt Holly blazed ahead of me to show me how it is done. I can't imagine anyone else's footsteps I would rather follow in. Her dignity and grace in the eye of the storm are undeniable. She is my hero.
Happy Birthday, Aunt Holly. Here's to many more candles on many more cakes for many more years to come.