When Jen finds out that I started this fundraiser she’ll break my neck. She’d never ask for help. But someone has to do it.

Four years ago her husband, Joe Gayton, was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Two years ago it started ravaging his bones. A few weeks ago, on Mother’s Day, it took his life.

Joe was an irrepressible force of nature. As sweet as he was salty, he was a writer with a passion akin to his favorite poet, Dylan Thomas. And he was funny as hell...

When he had his hip replacement, he woke up in the middle of the procedure to see the surgeon banging on his exposed hip bone with a hammer. Without missing a beat, Joe started singing “If I had a hammer, I’d hammer in the morning, I’d hammer in the evening, all over this land…” The surgeon and nurses lost it laughing as the panic-stricken anesthesiologist fumbled to knock Joe out again.

When Jen heard the story she just smiled and said, “Of course you did!” Joe was always singing.

Before things took a turn for the worst, Jen set her mind on giving Joe something he always wanted.

At the top of his bucket list was a trip to Ireland, to drive the Giants Causeway and walk along Ireland’s Greystones cliff (which happens to be right down the road from a proper Dublin pub crawl – also on the list). The trip was to end with a pilgrimage to St. Martin's churchyard in Laugharne, Wales, the resting place of Dylan Thomas.

Jen managed to scrap together enough money for the trip, so she arranged for flights and places to stay. She was bent on making the trip happen. She almost did.

But four weeks ago, Joe developed a swollen lymph gland, so Jen took him to the ER as a precaution. He had contracted a random and brutal infection, and because of the toll chemotherapy had taken, his immune system was wrecked. By the next morning, he was gone.

Between a hugely expensive experimental cancer drug, myriad scans and exorbitant copays, the medical bills were staggering and piled up over the four years as Joe’s battle raged on. They paid for it by burning through their savings.

Dying is expensive. Catastrophically so. Now, Jen's financial situation is not only urgent, it’s vandalizing her grief.

Canceling the Ireland trip will help her pay for the next couple months of expenses, but to make ends meet for the next phase of her life, she has to sell her and Joe’s home. That takes time. I’m hoping we can help bridge the gap.

If we pull together and give her a leg up, I know she’ll make it. And we’ll all be proud.

Joe used to often recite by heart his favorite Dylan Thomas poem. Its final stanza:

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Joe did not go gentle into that good night. And Jen will rage, rage against the dying of the light.

So let’s do this. Ten bucks would be great. More would be amazing, and it would be a Godsend if you share the link to this fundraiser with other caring people.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. Now let’s raise a glass to the light.

--Jeffrey Hornaday