I sat with my mother recently to recall her experiences during the period my grandmother battled breast cancer. So much is fuzzy for me since I was just eight years old when she was diagnosed. I asked my mom some questions about what she recalls during Grammy’s diagnosis and I was absolutely stunned to realize how much more than the cancer Grammy faced. As an adult now, I can’t imagine how difficult this was.
What would you want someone close to you to know about Grammy’s experience if they were diagnosed today? How strong she was. Grammy & Grampy did not share Grammy’s diagnosis with anyone until after her 1st surgery (radical mastectomy).
What would you have done differently today? Call you and your sisters and have you surround me. I didn't always see Grammy’s strength. I would need you to help me rally my own strength. Grammy just continued her life.
Life went on after Grammy’s diagnosis. In April of 1982 Grammy had just barely recovered from her 1st mastectomy. This is when Grampy told my mom about the cancer. Typically Grammy & Grampy were in Naples, FL from Columbus Day to Memorial Day. That year they came to MA from FL in April because Grammy’s mother, my Great-Grammy Cutting, was ill. They flew from FL to MA and settled back in, helping with Grammy Cutting through May and into June.
That June Grampy Tibbetts had a massive heart attack. After a short time in intensive care he was expected to fully recover. My mother was at work when the power went out. She took it as a sign and went to visit him despite his optimistic diagnosis. My mom visited my grandfather, told him she loved him and she left. He died the next day.
The memory that stuck with my mother was how strong Grammy was surrounding Grampy's death. She took Grammy shopping because Grammy insisted she needed a dress for Grampy’s funeral. They went to her favorite store Empire in Gloucester, MA. Grammy typically made her own clothes, particularly for an occasion this important, and my mom recalls the experience to be unsatisfying but at the same time therapeutic for Grammy. Grammy went home that night and made a dress for the services after all. Mom recalls walking on Long Beach with her mother shortly after the funeral to get some air. Grammy told my mom that that morning she had seen the most spectacular sunrise and she felt Grampy was with her. Mom went for a drive around Cape Ann after the funeral to clear her head. She stopped in a cove and watched the most spectacular sunset of her life. She felt this was Grampy telling her everything was going to be ok too.
A week after Grampy’s funeral I was a flower girl in my mom’s friend’s wedding. In typical form, Grammy whipped up a dress for me seemingly overnight. She sat in front of her sewing machine all day at the beach making the dress. This was how she coped, but the struggle didn't stop there. Just a month later, Grampy’s brother Warren Tibbetts Sr. passed away. And that August, Grammy’s mother, my Great Grammy Cutting died also. I was 8 years old.
Grammy went back to FL in September, early. My mom recalls taking her to the airport early in the morning. At that time you could still go to the gate. My mom was a wreck but Grammy seemed fine. She wanted to return to her Florida family, the community of peers she has built with Grampy. As Grammy walked down the ramp my mother approached a stewardess to please watch her; that she had been through a lot recently. It was a whirlwind summer, full of loss and it was hard for my mom to let her go but she has three young girls, two jobs and night school to attend. Life went on for everyone.
Four years later, the cancer returned. My mom went to FL shortly after Grammy had her second mastectomy. Grammy insisted on staying in FL and not returning to MA to be near family despite repeated requests from her children. My mom felt she had to be with her despite Grammy insisting she was fine and had friends to care for her. The second time my mom went to FL was Mother’s Day 1987. My mom brought her back to MA after a very emotional goodbye with her friends. Grammy knew she might not see them again.
Grammy stayed at the beach in Rockport, MA when she returned. Long Beach was a therapeutic place for everyone. My mom and her brothers took turns staying with her at the cottage. Grammy eventually took a turn for the worst and was moved to my Uncle Harris and Aunt Esther’s in Swampscott, MA until it became too difficult for everyone. She was transferred to the hospital and became very weak. My mom recalls doing some reading for school while sitting with Grammy in the hospital when she realized her mother was not eating any of the meals the nurses were delivering. She told them to stop bringing food. Grammy was in hospice at this time and my mom recalls the moment Grammy passed. Her brothers Peter and Harris were there with her. Grammy was at a point where she was not really speaking anymore. Grammy signaled for my mom to come close and she managed to say three words: “I love you”. Later she passed, surrounded by her children.
What I find most interesting about doing the Climb Against the Odds now is that my daughter is the same age as I was during Grammy’s battle with cancer. My mother is the same age Grammy was. And I am about the same age as my mother was then, now. This is all helping me better understand what it means to be the matriarch in a family. I see how strong Grammy was as well as my mother during this time especially and it makes me realize my own strength. It is comforting to see the successes within the struggles we've had and how it makes us stronger. I feel it is such gift to have the strength of these women in my life.
Grammy’s battle with breast cancer was one of courage and grace. This climb is about celebrating that aspect of her experience. I share this with you with the hope that it can inspire you too to be strong in all you face. Along with strength, gratitude is another gift I take from this reflection with my mom. I am grateful to have known Grammy and to have felt her love as a child. And as an adult, I take from this a new appreciation for where my personal courage was born.
Thank you Grammy! Thank you Mom!
Helen Tibbetts
1917-1987
