I don’t recall the year our family first participated in the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life. I do, however, remember watching our son Dan zip around the track on a small scooter alongside his best buddy Kurt. It was a much smaller event back then and there was room for such conveyances.

This weekend Dan studies for his college finals and packs to come home for the summer. My  husband and I once again take to the track, for to look cancer in the eye is to face a marathon.

That inaugural event for us, all those years ago, was a celebration. We attended knowing we’d surround ourselves with people with huge, generous hearts. We appreciated having the opportunity to show our support to those who were fighting cancer at that time and celebrate with the victorious.

Cancer stopped us in our tracks in 2006. We had gathered at a nearby restaurant to celebrate family members with October birthdays, only to notice that our senior family member, whom everybody called “Papa John,” did not enjoy his usual appetite or sharp wit. As I stuck my head inside his car to kiss him goodbye, he quietly mentioned some discomfort in his stomach and a plan to see his doctor the next day.

Seventeen days later I was forced to bid my dad goodbye. He had overcome moments of great adversity in his life, including relative poverty and polio. But this time his advanced age and a cancer diagnosis late in the race contributed to his passing.

Eight months later each family member wrote a note to Papa John on a Remembrance Luminary before placing it on the track. I walked past his lighted bag and all the others at Relay for Life 2007 and mourned deeply. The event became a place to experience the comfort of others who truly understood my pain and loss. My husband held my hand and kept me supplied in tissues. A track filled with friends hugged me, offering words of encouragement and prayers for comfort.

I grew in my capacities to care, withstand heartbreak and see God work through others to comfort and strengthen those facing cancer, whatever the form.

This year I’m there from start to finish, for the list of people I walk for grows. And frankly, it’s one tough race, no matter the cancer. The funds raised stay here on the island and help people in personal ways. Like rides to treatments. Like hats or wigs for chilled, temporarily hairless heads.

As a person of faith, cancer is a tough issue. Why is the disease so arbitrary? Why are some able to finish the race and others not? Why is suffering and heartbreak a part of this life? I don’t have answers to such questions. But I do ask God to help me bear witness to suffering so no one need suffer alone.

I believe that when we share our vulnerabilities, we repair the world. When we find the strength to share our humanity, we bless people.

Come see me today on the track. I’ve got a hug to give, if you want it.

Reach Joan Bay Klope at faithfulliving@hotmail.com.