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On July 16, 1994, Joseph F. Hanley ("Red") died at the age of 71 of prostrate cancer. My Dad was a great man who "never left someone's presence without making that person feel good about him/herself". Dad had prostrate cancer for many years, so each Fall when my parents left for their Winter house in Sarasota, Florida, we hugged and kissed never sure if we would see my Dad again. He took his lot in life with his characteristic humor and remarked each time "This might be the last time the family is together". His cancer was a slow growing cancer which took its time claiming his body. He gradually lost his functionality but took on each day of his life as a blessing. He told me "don't cry for me when I am gone"... but I did and I still do.

That same year, on November 26, 2005, my Mom, Dorothea Hanley ("Dot") died from bladder cancer. My Mom was an avid bridge player who loved winning tournaments. She spent many years being a Girl Scout leader for me and my sister, Pat, and was accustomed to dragging all three of her kids, including younger brother Tom, on the buses in Waltham, because my Dad sold baby furniture in Maine and she had no car. She joked about "his other family", but truth be told, my parents were holding hands their whole marriage. My parents had talked about the HUGE party they were going to have for their 50th wedding anniversary. Well, they had a celebration, but it wasn't grand as they had hoped. My Dad was way too sick - but he found that extra strength to get out of bed and dance with his grandkids. He remarked about "how beautiful your Mom still is". The love they had... what a beautiful thing. We all felt that he had willed himself to travel back to Maine in June for their anniversary.

My Mom's cancer was faster growing. She took care of my father when he was dying and none of us knew how sick she was. My Mom was never ready to die.... she was angry... she wasn't suppose to die at age 70. We spent one beautiful evening discussing her various jewelry and when she had received it and why. She was a sharp as a tack so when she no longer had a keen mind, she knew it, and it pained her. She told me that she couldn't "be a mother (to me) any longer". It was so very difficult to pretend that everything was OK when I visited her, when I was wailing on the inside - No, not Mom too. She wouldn't talk to us about my Dad at all, she wouldn't talk about her own death at all, She was not ready. She fought her death until her last breathe.

After my parents died, John and I went with our children; Cyndi (17), Rob (14), and Rick (10) to Sarasota, Florida during the Christmas school break. We had three days to get their house cleaned out - a house that was ready for them to return, not for them to be gone. Christmas Day, 1994, we walked into their house and began to pack. Needless to say, all of this took such a toll on us. I had to find a way to fight back. No one should have to go through that much pain in such a short time. No kids should be deprived of their grandparents because of cancer. It took me until 2001 to get myself ready to do my first PMC. I had heard about the ride several years earlier and decided that I needed to do the ride. My grief after their deaths had been consuming. I lost some weight and began my training.

At the end of that first PMC I was emotionally drained. I gave the volunteers the bike, and I sat on the curb and I just sob, and sob and was hysterical. Doing that ride didn't bring my Mom and Dad back... somehow I thought if I worked that hard something should happen. Since that first year, I know that they are with me. I know that they are proud of me and talking about what an overachiever I am! My brother keeps telling me that it won't bring them back... I know that - I wear ribbons for other people who also have stories they could share about loss and pain.. If we all work on making a difference in life, then it will happen - there will be a cure for cancer in our lifetime and no one else will ever have to lose a loved one to the disease.....

Thanks to all of those who ride with me, who sponsor me, who give me their good wishes, who cheer for me, and those who let me wear ribbons on behalf of their loved ones who have been affected by cancer.. they are the true heroes.

The PMC raises money for the Jimmy Fund at Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston, MA. 97% of the money raised goes directly to research at the Dana Farber. It is the best way that I know of to fight against cancer which has taken my Mom and Dad from me.

Mom and Dad, I love you and miss you!