I am running the Boston Marathon in memory of my aunt Ada, who died of cancer almost a year ago at the age of 60. Her father had to bury his only child. Her grandson, who was not yet two years old at the time, would not remember his grandmother who spent so much of her time taking care of him.My aunt Ada was technically my second cousin--she was my dad’s cousin, but I always called her my aunt. Growing up I did not see her very often, as we lived in Moscow and her family lived in Sevastopol, a large port town in Ukraine on the Black Sea. Thus the rare occasions when I did get to see her were extra special. Later on, when her family and I were living in the Seattle area, we spent more time together.
Always upbeat and energetic, she always knew which movies to watch and which ones to skip, and what new book to read, and which noteworthy musician was giving a concert in town. Whenever presented with a chance, she tried to feed me into a food coma. More importantly, she was a great listener, and always knew how to make people relax, talk and feel better.
Aunt Ada’s death came as a shock to my family, as we knew nothing of her illness. Aunt Ada was diagnosed only a few months before she died, and she did not want people to know that she was sick. She was always a strong woman.
I run in memory of my aunt Ada, but I also run for the living—for the cancer patients both old and very young, for the families, for the children, for everyone affected by this terrible disease. If we put our efforts together, we can conquer this monster. I hope you will join me in the fight by supporting cancer research at the Dana Farber Cancer Institute.
