Heroes: Tracy Jean Olsen-Schalich

I thought about you yesterday and days before that, too.
I think of you in silence, I often speak your name,
All I have are memories and your picture in a frame.
Your memory is my keepsake, with which I’ll never part,
God has you in His keeping, I have you in my heart.

“A Son’s Perspective” by Brady Schalich

She could always relate to me in situations and in how I felt.  I had very similar characteristics, emotions and overall temperament as she did.  Through all of my schooling, she was always there for help, support, unconditional love, advice and guidance.  Our mom was the center and the rock of our family, and she went through this process with the utmost courage and dignity. 

We dare you to try and catch Tracy NOT smiling!

After the first few cancer surgeries, she was still everything that she had always been to me.  But once she had gone through the rollercoaster of cancer, and after she had the fourth surgery, she became almost “at peace” with how she had lived and raised Sarah and I.  Not like she had given up, but nothing “rattled” her anymore. 

At that point, reality totally set in for me.  I felt that I was slowly losing my mom, but, at the same time, I still thought that there was going to be a cure to save her life and make her totally better. 

But still, the whole time that my mom was ill, it was surreal.  I kind of felt that, eventually, the whole situation was just going to go away – and that, eventually, my mom would be healthy.

“A Daughter’s Perspective” by Sarah Schalich

It is very fitting to be writing about my mother, as she was an English major and always had something to say about any piece of writing my brother or I did for school.  I can hear her voice: “Remember how to spell definitely,” (which to this day I still mess up), or…“Are you sure you need a comma there?’

I wish she were here in person to correct me.
 
How do I begin to explain the kind of person my mother was?  Besides perfect in my eyes, she always put others first, especially her family.  She and my dad did such a wonderful job of raising us with a stable foundation.  They molded us into who we are today by making every milestone in our lives very important. 

I saw a quote once that said something along the lines of, “you realize how much your mother loves you when you find a box filled with every drawing from the age you could pick up a crayon till present.”  I recently was going through some things at my parents’ house and found that box, filled with pictures I had drawn from preschool up. 

The loving family; (from left) John, Tracy, their son Brady, and daughter Sarah.

That was my mom; she cherished everything we did. She supported my brother and I so much that, when I was a junior in high school and it came time to fill out college applications, she sat right next to me and practically did them for me.  She wanted the best for us, and she gave us her best in return.  I remember as a little girl snuggling with her on the couch, looking at the rings on her hands, and wishing that one day I would have hands just as beautiful as hers.  Now, I look back and I wish that one day I could be half the mother she was to us. 

She was there for me when I would call (quite often) homesick at college.  She was such a good listener, and always had wonderful advice.  However, while she would offer sympathy, she would also tell me to buck up – and in the scheme of life, this is not that big of a deal.  She would say, “get out a good cry, go to bed, tomorrow’s a new day.”

And she was right.

I miss her a lot, and what I struggle with the most is trying to remember my mom as she was before she was sick.  She was sick for twenty months, and through those twenty months my mom stayed so strong.  There is a country song out right now entitled “Tough” that states, “I thought I was tough.”  The song sums up my mom’s last twenty months.  The singer is talking about his wife and how she is dealing with breast cancer, how she goes about her daily routine while fighting for her life. 

That is what my mom did.  She tried to the best of her ability to keep it all “regular;” she protected us, even as adult children.  She wouldn’t say the word cancer around us for the first several months, as if she was protecting us from this horrible disease that took over our lives.  Unfortunately, she went through four surgeries, and after each surgery, a little piece of my mom was missing.  Finally, with her last surgery in August of 2006, my mom started to change physically.   I was angry during this time, wishing she would just “snap out of it.”  I admit I was being selfish. 

In August and September, I had my bridal showers – (my wedding was in October of 2006) – and I kept thinking of all those experiences a bride dreams about, and how they would have been so much different for us if she weren’t sick.  A mother and daughter look forward to the day they get to collaborate and plan a wedding together.  My mom and I got to do the early planning, but everything in the end was up to me, and I wish so much that she could have been a part of it.   She tried so hard to participate, and she did participate as much as possible.  But if my mom had been healthy, she would have been five steps ahead of me, always thinking of the next thing we needed to plan, make, etc.

She was an amazingly organized person; she ran a household that was always in pristine condition and juggled at least 25 things a day!  Unfortunately, this disease took that wonderful gift away from her.  She slowly was unable to juggle so many things, and eventually she was unable to assist in planning our wedding. Looking back, I think of how selfish I was, and how thankful I am she was there to take part in any and all of the festivities.

Although her physical attributes did change significantly toward the end, her personality was always strong.  Even as she was taking her last few breaths, I sat next to her sobbing and she said, “stop crying; everything is going to be okay.”  My mother taught me how to live, and she also taught me how to die – as she did, with such ease and dignity.
       
That’s how we feel, Mama; we will never forget.  I love you, and as dad said, sleep well.  

“A Husband’s Perspective” by John Schalich

Tracy and John: that's one happy couple!

When we first heard of the diagnosis of Tracy’s brain tumor, I was in disbelief.  This happens to somebody else – not us.

Tracy was truly an inspiration to all who met her during the twenty-month battle she waged against brain cancer.  I remember, six months after her first surgery, the tumor returned.  I sat in a chair in our family room with my hands in my face, crying.  Tracy came up to me and put her hand on my shoulder and said we would be all right. 

There she was – the patient taking care of the caregiver. 

She would have a total of four surgeries and face all of them with courage and determination.  There were so many emotional highs and lows for me throughout the whole ordeal.  It was very difficult, losing my wife and friend to this disease.  Sometimes I feel cheated and angry; yet I know Tracy would have wanted me to start to move forward with my life and enjoy our family. 

Tracy lost her battle in December of 2006, and I find myself thinking of her every day.  Sometimes, I feel I’m taking two steps forward and one step back.  I know it is okay and part of the grieving process.

I am starting to take a bite out of life again, thanks to Tracy’s inspirational fight.