50 Years Ago Today…

My mother, Joyce Ann Slovacek

I found out an old friend is coping with a cancer journey today. We began chatting on FB, then moved to actual phone calls.

Having done my cancer journey in 2009, I always stop to swap stories from the chemo front lines… It’s just a thing you do when you’ve been there.

Along the messages today, I looked up and saw it was October 13. That date…it always sticks in my mind.

And then I recall – my mother passed away on October 13, 1969, from cancer. Fifty years ago today. I was 6-years-old at the time.

So many amazing women were sent by the universe to raise me. And I’m cognizant of that fact every day.

I want to be clear that this isn’t meant as a morose kind of post. Just a memory. The reason why we have photographs.

I do have fleeting memories of my mother, way back then…and a couple of photos 🙂

She looks like she’d totally be sassy, amiright?

Website: “Texts from my Homophobic Mom”

According to Buzzfeed, the images below are from a Tumblr account called “Texts from my Homophobic Mom.”

Buzzfeed says the author has confirmed that the text messages, which chronicle his three year journey dealing with coming out to his mother, are real. 

Here’s just a sample.  Not sure of the dates so may not be chronological.

As mentioned, these text messages are supposedly real between a mother and son.

You can visit the website by clicking here.

October 13th and Joyce Ann Slovacek

I got in the shower this morning to get going with the day.  As I put shaving cream on my hand, the smell (Gillette Foamy Regular – old school, kids) immediately made me think about my father. 

I am now the age my father was when I was 6 years old.  Looking in the non-fog shaving mirror, I scanned through my memory thinking of what an amazing feat it was to raise my brother and I as a single dad.  I can’t imagine my life today with two small sons, a business to run, and having the success he lived with such joy.  I can believe I’d be frozen with fear.  He wasn’t.  

Today is the 43rd anniversary of my mother passing away. I wanted to re-post my blog post from last year in her memory, and for everyone affected by cancer. I’m on your side.

******************************************

Sigh.

I’ll start with that.

42 years ago today my birth mother passed away. Of cancer. I never forget the date. Ever.

I refer to my birth mother because I was always aware of the fabulous women she sent to watch over me and mother me after she was gone. Truly, I was blessed to have the women around me who make me who I am today.

I just heard from a friend that his friend is going into surgery within hours for her cancer.

As the child of a cancer victim, and as a cancer ‘thriver’ myself (two years past my own journey), sometimes it takes a long, heavy sigh to accommodate these moments.

On Facebook there’s a campaign called “I wish Cancer would get Cancer and die”. I couldn’t agree more.

The cancer journey is truly like a bad movie. It’s unreal, surreal, long and incredibly scary. It’s not a funny Seth Rogen movie that has a funny, happy ending. It’s tough. I won’t sugar coat it.

I was lucky. I know it every day.

But a lot of people have much more difficult roads to travel with this insidious thing. I met them in the hospital, I watched their incredible courage.

My mother was one of those people. I was so young I don’t remember much about my birth mother except she fought hard. And was beautiful.

I like to joke I got one of those qualities from her. And it’s not my sexy good looks.

While October is “Breast Cancer Awareness” month, let’s think about all those who are fighting cancer. Period.

Let’s all think some good thoughts their way.

I’ll end this with my favorite picture I have of my parents.  My mother is gorgeously stylish, and my dad looks like the stud he was.  This was right before her battle began. This is how I think of her.  Cancer can never change that.

Let’s all think of those fighting the good fight in those fabulous times before the fight. They are still those same people. They just have a little more on their plates.

I’m on their side.  Every day.  I’m up for that.  It’s the very least I can do.

No fear.  Forward.

It never ends

Sigh.

I’ll start with that.

42 years ago today my birth mother passed away. Of cancer. I never forget the date. Ever.

I refer to my birth mother because I was always aware of the fabulous women she sent to watch over me after she was gone. Truly I was blessed to have the women around me who make me who I am today.

I just heard from a friend that his friend is going into surgery within hours for her cancer.

As the child of a cancer victim, and as a cancer ‘thriver’ myself (two years past my own journey), sometimes it takes a long, heavy sigh to accomodate these moments.

On Facebook there’s a campaign called “I wish Cancer would get Cancer and die”. I couldn’t agree more.

The cancer journey is truly like a bad movie. It’s unreal, surreal, long and incredibly scary. It’s not a funny Seth Rogen movie that has a funny, happy ending.  It’s tough.  I won’t sugar coat it.

I was lucky. I know it every day.

But a lot of people have much more difficult roads to travel with this insidious thing.  I met them in the hospital, I watched their incredible courage.

My mother was one of those people. I was so young I don’t remember much about my birth mother except she fought hard. And was beautiful.

I like to joke I got one of those qualities from her. And it’s not my sexy looks.

While October is “Breast Cancer Awareness” month, let’s think about all those who are fighting cancer. Period.

Let’s all think some good thoughts their way.

I’ll end this with my favorite picture I have of my parents.  My mother is gorgeously stylish, and my dad looks like the stud he was.  This was right before her battle began.  This is how I think of her.

Let’s all think of those fighting the good fight in those fabulous times before the fight.  They are still those same people.  They just have a little more on their plates.

I’m on their side. Every day.  I’m up for that. It’s the very least I can do.

No fear.