Help Melody raise money

We lost my Auntie Mary Ellen on March 14, 2019, at just 63 years old. I’ll never forget the call from my cousin. I couldn’t even make out the words she was trying to say, but I knew—my aunt was officially gone, though in many ways, we had started losing her years earlier.

The first time I ever heard the word "Alzheimer’s" was when my mom explained that my Auntie Mary Ellen, who was also my godmother, had been diagnosed. She was only in her 50s at the time. It's hard to capture her in words, but her presence was a source of comfort and love. She was a devoted mom to my cousins Lori and Michael, a loving wife to my Uncle Sherm, and a lifelong animal lover. Most of all, she was someone who lived to give back to others, whether to family or strangers in need.

When she was diagnosed, I wanted to find a way to support her, just as she had always supported me. That’s when I found the Walk to End ALZ. It became an outlet for my family to grieve and connect, especially when words were too hard. We walked every year; first holding yellow flowers then purple, keeping her memory alive through every step. The walk gave us the space and time to share funny stories, important moments in our lives, and things we wish she could have seen as life goes on without her. 

Though Alzheimer’s took away my aunt’s ability to remember, I focused on remembering for her. Those moments are still vivid in my mind: her spinning me in the pool until we were both laughing uncontrollably; the quirky birthday song she sang after the usual one, making you feel so seen and loved; and her “special juice,” a mix of cranberry and orange, that I thought was magic as a child. Mary Ellen had a gift for making the ordinary feel extraordinary—she gave everyone her full attention and made you feel special just by being around her.

I made a promise to her on March 13, 2019, during our last visit that I would continue to remember our memories for her. Though she only opened her eyes a few times, I held her hand while my cousin Lori and I flipped through old childhood photos, laughing and sharing memories with her. She passed the next night, but those final moments with her are ones I will cherish forever.

Running the Falmouth Road Race for the Alzheimer’s Association is an honor and a way to keep that promise. It allows me to carry her legacy forward by doing good and giving back, just as she did. She may have lost her memories, but I carry them with me. And now, I want to use them to fuel a future where no family has to say goodbye like we did.