National Breast Cancer Foundation, Inc.

Sometimes, we can draw strength and hope from the most unusual sources. For me, it was my Grandmother’s watch.

In 1976, after separating from my husband, I decided to go back to school. I had been married at 18, only a week after graduating from high school and had never worked. I had no skills or means to support myself or my two small children, so completing my education seemed a natural, but difficult choice. I decided that moving closer to my family would be best. I packed up my car and kids, and took off from sunny San Diego to the rain of Seattle.

While I loved college, sometimes the burden of school, dark skies, children and my vague future weighed on my mind. As a reprieve from my daily routine, once a week, on my way home from school, I stopped to visit my Grandmother. She was a strong, independent and grounded woman, who had lived through the depression as a single mother and outlived three husbands. My Grandmother greeted each day of life with a certain robustness and utilitarianism. She was a stout woman with a double chin and boisterous laugh. Our visits were both enlightening and too short. She disclosed stories about my father as a child and of her own childhood. She recorded each of our conversations and would play them back later as if she was searching for a missed word or thought. Her house was spotless, but still cluttered with collections of buttons, yarn, and everything else she ever had purchased. My Grandmother was a recycler way before it became popular. She contemplated every purchase based on long-term value and selected reliability and function over beauty every time. My time with my Grandmother gave me insight for the future and strength for the present.

After finishing school, I returned to San Diego. I few years later, my grandmother passed away. My father sent me a few of her personal items to keep as mementos. Tucked at the bottom of the box was her wristwatch. It was not an old watch, but one she had purchased shortly before I arrived in Seattle, and was wearing when she died. It wasn’t even particularly attractive, made of stainless steel with silver and gold links, but made versatile, to be worn with any outfit. The name on the face, “Watch-it” dated it to the trendy 70’s. I put it in my jewelry box, knowing I would never wear it. I forgot about my Grandmother’s watch until last year during my cancer treatment.

I have read that a breast cancer diagnosis brings with it five stages of grief: denial, protest, disorientation, detachment and finally, resolution. I believe this is true. As I began chemotherapy, my initial shock had worn off and I began to protest this disease and the horrid treatment. I was filled with anger, sadness and completely without hope. I could not sleep, was sick from the chemo and knew I needed help. It was August and the weather was hot and dry. Since I felt cold all of the time, I thought a short walk might warm me and help get my mind off the cancer. I walked around the block and yard by yard, all I saw, was dry, brown grass. The grass looked like I felt, close to death. The Santa Ana winds had dried up every living thing in my neighborhood. Then, a few blocks from my house, I saw an amazing site. Two tall maple trees stood among a sea of dead grass. They were green and flourishing. In the other corner of the yard was a smaller maple also full of life. All of the other shrubs had lost their foliage early, but the maples hung tightly to their green, five-pointed leaves. I stood in awe, looking at the trees for several minutes. Their massive taproot allowed them to survive the heat. Looking at the trees, I realized that I would also survive; I just needed to find my taproot.

A few days later, I thought about my grandmother, her strength and her watch. I searched through my cedar chest and found it in a small box with several other trinkets. It was not working, but, once I replaced the battery, it kept perfect time. My grandmother always invested in things with long lives. It occurred to me that she had invested in me as well. I began wearing her watch and each day I became stronger and more determined to beat cancer. Just like the watch, I needed my battery replaced, and the memories of my strong, loving grandmother help recharge my energy. My grandmother’s watch was my taproot. I continue to wear her watch and to thrive.