Hope on the Slopes for Micki Newton
Donation protected
Sitting down to write this, I spent hours staring, reflecting, and seething at three words on an otherwise blank page:
Cancer. Fucking. Sucks.
As the cursor blinked on my screen, I sat paralyzed by the flood of memories triggered by these words.
You see, articulating the tragedy that has since defined me in every possible way, and trying to explain my journey with grief over the 13 years, is a lot harder than you’d think.
Death is a real motherfucker. It’s devastating, it’s final, it’s irreversible. It redefines the world as you know it, and fundamentally changes your soul’s blueprint. Death breaks people, and has the power to reduce you to nothing – if you let it, death will consume you in its aftermath.
But, the thing about death is there is also life – and the living must choose to live, not just exist. The journey to choose life after experiencing a death is messy, chaotic, and at times seemly impossible, but we must fight for and celebrate life – there is no alternative. What you read below is my testament to that.
As some of you may or may not know, I lost my mother in 2004 to pancreatic cancer. I was 15 years old, a sophomore in high school. Mom was 45 years old, and left behind two teenage girls, and my father who she had been with for nearly 20 years. The doctors couldn’t save her life because the technology does not exist to detect pancreatic cancer early enough for its victim’s survival. My mom was only one of the 563,000 cancer-related deaths in the U.S. that year.
On February 25, a team of my awesome friends are hitting the slopes to help change the future outcome of cancer diagnosis – and in memory of my mother Micki Newton, who would be turning 58 this month, I am aiming to raise as much money as I can to donate to cancer research and the American Cancer Society.
That’s where you come in!
A little about the event your donations will help fund: Hope on the Slopes – Ski and Ride for a Cure is a 24-hour ski/snowboarding endurance challenge, aiming to raise both awareness and money for cancer research. My mother, an avid skier with a wildly-competitive streak, would have undoubtedly participated had she survived her battle with cancer.
Okay – now that we’ve got all that out of the way, let me introduce you to Micki!
In a word, my mother was a total badass. PTA president and volunteer by day, and artist, music-enthusiast, and mom by night, my mother treated her life like party, and loved being surrounded by the people she cared so deeply for. She had a love of classic rock (I’ve inherited this trait), shoes (…also genetic, perhaps?), food, travel, vans, and spontaneous fun (if you haven’t yet caught on, we are very similar).
Whether she was rolling up to my junior high to pick me up in her van, all the while blasting some *embarrassing* music (hearing your mom bumping Shaggy “Wasn’t Me” in the line of cars for pickup was mortifying at 13), wearing her fuckengrüven t-shirt and paint-splattered jeans while rocking out on the piano, or making snacks for the dozen friends I had decided to bring home with me unannounced after school, she was always smiling and happy to take part in the madness.
My mother taught me to be tenacious, passionate, and kind. She taught me that it’s okay to not be perfect, but to always rise to the occasion and give it my all – giving up is not in my DNA, and true to form, my mother fought her incurable cancer until the bitter end. She spent 15 years loving me unconditionally, all the while building me up to be strong, confident, and good – and for that I owe her everything.
I am a survivor, and I will spend my life fighting for others right to live. Through cancer research, and in the name of choosing life, we can win many more of those battles.
Thank you for your support, love, and donations!
Cancer. Fucking. Sucks.
As the cursor blinked on my screen, I sat paralyzed by the flood of memories triggered by these words.
You see, articulating the tragedy that has since defined me in every possible way, and trying to explain my journey with grief over the 13 years, is a lot harder than you’d think.
Death is a real motherfucker. It’s devastating, it’s final, it’s irreversible. It redefines the world as you know it, and fundamentally changes your soul’s blueprint. Death breaks people, and has the power to reduce you to nothing – if you let it, death will consume you in its aftermath.
But, the thing about death is there is also life – and the living must choose to live, not just exist. The journey to choose life after experiencing a death is messy, chaotic, and at times seemly impossible, but we must fight for and celebrate life – there is no alternative. What you read below is my testament to that.
As some of you may or may not know, I lost my mother in 2004 to pancreatic cancer. I was 15 years old, a sophomore in high school. Mom was 45 years old, and left behind two teenage girls, and my father who she had been with for nearly 20 years. The doctors couldn’t save her life because the technology does not exist to detect pancreatic cancer early enough for its victim’s survival. My mom was only one of the 563,000 cancer-related deaths in the U.S. that year.
On February 25, a team of my awesome friends are hitting the slopes to help change the future outcome of cancer diagnosis – and in memory of my mother Micki Newton, who would be turning 58 this month, I am aiming to raise as much money as I can to donate to cancer research and the American Cancer Society.
That’s where you come in!
A little about the event your donations will help fund: Hope on the Slopes – Ski and Ride for a Cure is a 24-hour ski/snowboarding endurance challenge, aiming to raise both awareness and money for cancer research. My mother, an avid skier with a wildly-competitive streak, would have undoubtedly participated had she survived her battle with cancer.
Okay – now that we’ve got all that out of the way, let me introduce you to Micki!
In a word, my mother was a total badass. PTA president and volunteer by day, and artist, music-enthusiast, and mom by night, my mother treated her life like party, and loved being surrounded by the people she cared so deeply for. She had a love of classic rock (I’ve inherited this trait), shoes (…also genetic, perhaps?), food, travel, vans, and spontaneous fun (if you haven’t yet caught on, we are very similar).
Whether she was rolling up to my junior high to pick me up in her van, all the while blasting some *embarrassing* music (hearing your mom bumping Shaggy “Wasn’t Me” in the line of cars for pickup was mortifying at 13), wearing her fuckengrüven t-shirt and paint-splattered jeans while rocking out on the piano, or making snacks for the dozen friends I had decided to bring home with me unannounced after school, she was always smiling and happy to take part in the madness.
My mother taught me to be tenacious, passionate, and kind. She taught me that it’s okay to not be perfect, but to always rise to the occasion and give it my all – giving up is not in my DNA, and true to form, my mother fought her incurable cancer until the bitter end. She spent 15 years loving me unconditionally, all the while building me up to be strong, confident, and good – and for that I owe her everything.
I am a survivor, and I will spend my life fighting for others right to live. Through cancer research, and in the name of choosing life, we can win many more of those battles.
Thank you for your support, love, and donations!
Organizer
Danyela Newton
Organizer
Seattle, WA