Home > a charmed life > Archives > 2008 > October > 15 > Entry
Remembering Shelley
It’s hard not to notice that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. There’s pink everywhere you go. Even my yogurt tops are pink this time of year.
Sadly, it’s a pretty safe assumption to say that everyone knows someone who has had breast cancer.
I wanted to take a moment to tell you about my cousin Shelley Gomez Tipton, who died of breast cancer shortly after she turned 30.
Shelley was the kind of girl who had such a tender heart, that sometimes people took advantage of it. She was just a year younger than me — the same age as my sister, Jean. You could always count on her to make you laugh, roll your eyes or to get you in trouble. Not the really bad kind of trouble. One time, when we were about 10, she convinced me it was a good idea to walk to the ice cream shop without telling my parents — or without taking any money. Well, we ended up getting free ice cream, but it came at a price when my parents found out what we had done.
Shelley was just 25 when she discovered a lump in her breast that turned out to be breast cancer. We worried, but didn’t even consider any outcome but a positive one, because she was the epitome of a strong, healthy woman. Sure enough, she made it through chemo and went into remission.
One thing Shelley always wanted was to be a mom. After she married her high school sweetheart, it was high on her priority list. A few years after she went into remission, she became pregnant and gave birth to her son, Mason. Everything was great, until she discovered her cancer was back.
I was living in Houston, and Shelley in Victoria, during the time she was undergoing this second battle. Things were much more serious this time, but I could not wrap my head around the thought of her not making it. It just seemed impossible. When I got the call that the end was near, my sister and I headed to Victoria to see her. I honestly thought I would walk into her room and see that it had all been blown out of proportion — that she was fine.
I was wrong.
I was shocked at how fragile she was, lying in the hospital bed in my aunt’s home. Her sisters and brothers were there, along with some of our other relatives. Everyone had circled her bed, and we were praying as she struggled to breathe. It seemed like an eternity between each breath, and I kept thinking each one sounded so very painful.
As we were praying, I couldn’t help but get angry. I kept thinking, “Why would God let this girl suffer like this, when there are evil people out there who don’t even deserve to live?” It was really a true faith crisis for me and I felt like a hypocrite praying when I was so angry at the injustice of it all.
A few minutes later something happened to change all that.
In the middle of our prayers, I felt the room get still. I could hear my cousin Kathie, Shelley’s older sister, outside playing with Shelley’s son. He started laughing and the sound seemed magnified, like it took up the whole room. Then I felt something wash over me, starting with the top of my head and going all the way down to my feet. It’s hard to describe it, but that’s the best way I know how. Then I felt peace — complete and utter peace. It was the most amazing feeling and at that instant I felt my faith restored.
We all collectively realized Shelley had not taken another breath. She died surrounded by love.
I don’t talk about that experience of being there much, because it was so intensely personal, but it was a life-changing moment for everyone who experienced it. Later, when we were talking about it, we all realized that we felt that same peaceful feeling come over us right before she died.
My cousin, who was outside, said that Mason had started laughing when a flock of birds suddenly took flight from a tree in front of the window where Shelley was lying. That was the laughter I heard. Maybe it seemed so unusually loud because it was meant to be the last sound his mother would hear. And maybe those birds were to be her escort to a better place.
That’s the way I like to think of it, at least.
Comments
By Donna Quarles
October 16, 2008 7:56 PM | Link to this
This is so touching Denise. Thanks for sharing.
By Claud Bolton Jr.
October 17, 2008 1:38 AM | Link to this
This is one of the best written pieces I have ever read. I happen on this story as I was surfing on the net. I could not stop until I had read the whole story. I must say the author should consider writing as a career. The detail of each part of the story was consuming. I have thought alot of the family since reading the story and especially Mason her son. God bless you all you deserve it.
By Andie
October 17, 2008 12:14 PM | Link to this
Denise, That is so touching, I even teared up reading this… you’re cousin and you were obviously close and i’m sure she is with you every day… Have a nice weekend.
By Anne Gomez Guzman
October 18, 2008 9:41 AM | Link to this
Hi Denise, Since our reunion at your Mom’s house I’ve had your blog in my favorites. I think reading your articles gives me of sense of keeping in touch with you and your family, little did I know what I would be reading this morning. I too rarely speak of this experience, it is far to painful even now but not a single day goes by that I don’t remember some moment of my sister’s life; good or bad. Her son is now 13, an incredible athlete and the spitting image of his Mom, sometimes it’s even painful to look at him because you see her but we are endlessly grateful to have a part of her with us. Thank you for remembering Shelley and sharing your story with your readers. I still struggle to understand the why of it all, my life was changed forever after she passed, it made my realize what was most important is life, the ability to live life and to appreciate every day of being healthy for me and my loved ones.
It saddens me when I hear or see people wasting thier time here on earth when I know Shelley would of done anything for more. I honor her life by never complaining of aches or pains as she never did and I live, love and laugh as she always did. Her sister, Anne.
By Denise
October 19, 2008 10:03 PM | Link to this
Thanks Anne. As traumatic as the experience was, I felt so honored to be there with her, and with all of you, at the end.
I too try to always see the good in things, the way she did in her naive, unspoiled way. And, I remember her laugh!
Since her death I have been vigilant about getting my yearly mammogram, insisting on it in my 30’s even though I kept hearing that I didn’t need one until after I turned 40. I still sweat out the results too.
Miss you!
By Denise
October 19, 2008 10:38 PM | Link to this
Thanks also to everyone who read and/or commented on this posting. Take care of yourself and your loved ones!
By Sheila Adams
October 23, 2008 10:14 PM | Link to this
Wow - that was absolutely amazing. What a tribute to her life. Thanks for sharing such a beautiful moment.
By Belinda Tipton Romanowski
October 23, 2009 10:34 PM | Link to this
Hello Denise, I’m Jesse’s sister. I was only 13 when shelley passed away and I was there when shelley passed. I will never forget that day and I don’t think I can. Shelley was the sister that I never had and she taught me so much about life and how having a good education is so important. I still have a letter that she wrote to me about the future and education. Mason has grown up to be a handsome boy. She would be so proud of him and his #1fan. All i can think about is hard she tried to fight her battle for mason. Thank you for this article because it made me remember to appreciate my family once again. I miss her so much. I wished I could have told her how much I loved her but I know she knew. I was only 13 and scared of the site I saw those last few days. Once again thank you.
By Jesse (Shelley My Sweetheart and Husband)
October 26, 2009 2:06 PM | Link to this
Denise, Thank you for remembering. And you are right that day was a life changer. We need to talk and expand more on that day! On that day I truly understand what it means to be married and be one flesh. When Shelley and I married I didn’t understand what it meant when the Priest told us to live as one Flesh! But at the moment of her death, and as I held her head in my arms and felt her die! I knew then what it meant, because I felt physical pain! I felt her leave my heart and she left me with the pain of my heart being ripped out of me. She left that day, but her love didn’t. I see it everyday in Mason. To this day the pain is there and will not ever be filled but it is slowly being filled with the love of God!.