A Wish for Ashley

Like most Sunday evenings, I am perched on my bed right now, watching HG-tv.  Ok really, don’t judge me. I’m lame. I know.  But I’m old. I’m turning 25 in 12 days.  House Hunters is to me now what Dawson’s Creek was when I was a middle schooler…  But tonight is not like any other Sunday night.  For one, I can’t move.  Every part of my body aches.  The thought of moving off my bed to take the four steps into my kitchen to find dinner… yeah that’s not going to happen. But what’s more, I can’t stop smiling.  Today was a completely surreal experience.  From walking into the Mobil station for coffee on the way into Boston and seeing the HUGE “Finding Ashley” headline on the front page of the Sunday Eagle-Tribune, to walking into the auditorium at Babson College and being overwhelmed by the spirit of all the Jimmy Fund Walk participants, today has been awesome.  

It is hard to put the experience into words.  It was sad, seeing so many other teams also walking ‘In Memory Of’ a loved one.  Yet while I could read sadness in some of the others’ eyes, they, like me, were full of smiles and laughs, because we all felt like the little steps might possibly prevent another family from suffering such a sad loss in the future.  Every three miles or so, there were ‘checkpoints’ marked by signs such as ‘Resilience’ ‘Hope’ and ‘Success’ and many of us snapped pictures of the words that have taken on a whole new meaning since cancer became so personal.  Steps beyond the signs were snack stations unlike anything I’ve ever seen.  Fruit, cookies, crackers, candy… you name it, volunteers were throwing it at you.  I overheard one walk participant sum it up nicely: "I walked 13.1 miles for the Jimmy Fund Walk… and gained 10 pounds."  Those of us on Team Will McFarland/A Wish for Ashley looked forward to those 3-mile checkpoints not only for the photo ops and food, but because they were key points during which walk participants and volunteers would converse.  The sense of community around the snack tables and Port-O-Potties was palpable.  I would never have elected to join a community whose boundaries are defined by those affected by cancer.  However, ever since I was drafted into it, I am grateful for the examples of others who have been a part of that group for much longer than I as to how we can together make the disease a thing of the past.  

Physically the walk was rough.  Turns out, ‘Heartbreak Hill’ is, in fact, heartbreaking.  And seriously, the town of Newton feels like it goes on forever.  But when we passed into Brighton, and then Brookline and then Boston… our team picked up the pace.  With so many passerby and volunteers cheering us on, we began to forget about our blisters (Kev), back (Sister 2), asthma (Greg) and hip socket (me), and keep up a brisk pace.  When I finally spotted my mom and Theresa (who had finished the 5 mile walk earlier) with their neon A Wish for Ashley.com signs a block from the finish line, I felt amazing.  Will was there.  All of us had come through the walk and come through months upon months of hospice care in the home only to have to say goodbye to Will in June and come closer to each other in the process.  "And here comes team A Wish for Ashley!" the finish line announcer boomed as we held up our signs and passed under the finish.  Yes, here we come.  

We spent another hour helping the 5 mile members of our team finish handing out wish cards and so many people we handed them to stopped and asked what it was about.  We quickly explained Will’s wish… and so many of the people we talked to promised up and down they would visit this website and help spread the word.  I believe them too.  Because when you’ve been put in the position of evaluating the daily happenings through a lens of life and death, when you promise something, you take it seriously.  I promised something. And I take it very seriously.

We’re getting closer to Ashley.  As mentioned in the Eagle Tribune article, my sisters and I once sang Ashley the song ‘Maybe’ from the musical Annie.  She loved the song, and asked us to sing it to her every visit we had from then on.  It’s Ashley’s Song.  Maybe far away or maybe real nearby the orphan Annie sang about her family.  Today, in the crowd of 8,000 Jimmy Fund Walkers, I felt like she was real nearby.  Thank you for joining A Wish for Ashley.  Thank you for helping me grant Will’s last wish.

With love (and not nearly enough Aleve in my apartment),

Audra