Omaha Insurance Solutions - April 2020

Club MED

April 2020

Honoring My Mom for Cancer Control Month

Seven years ago, I lost my mom to ovarian cancer, and since April is National Cancer Control Month, I wanted to take this time to remember and honor her. From a distance, cancer is like a lot of things in life — it feels scary. But once you get up close and start working your way through it, it’s not fun, but it is a little less scary. My mom grew up in Council Bluffs, known locally as “Counciltucky,” which is across the river and the tracks, both literally and figuratively, from Omaha. She went to St. Albert High School, and her memory is everywhere in the city. The house I grew up in is off the main street in Omaha, and I avoided driving down that street for years following her death because it was just too painful. While my mom was certainly the closest person to me who got cancer, she wasn’t the first or only person in my life to get this disease. I like to check up on my clients regularly, and when I recently called on one of my clients to see how she was doing, her husband answered and told me that his wife, my client, was very sick. She’d been diagnosed with cancer in October. Since I come to care deeply about my clients as I work with them over the years, I asked if I could come by to see her. When I got there, she was comatose. I sat and I prayed over her, and she passed just a few hours after I left. Cancer can move fast like that. The memory of my mom and the memories of all the people I’ve cared about and lost to cancer live on everywhere in Omaha. I guess that’s part of having deep roots in a community. In the end, something comes for all of us. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to hold up those values my mom taught me — faith, family, and country. —Chris Grimmond CFP ® 402-614-3389 • 1

When I was a little boy, maybe 5 years old, I was standing on the side of the street throwing rocks back and forth with a neighbor. A car drove in between us, and by accident, I broke its windshield. The people in the car got out and came inside the house to explain what happened to my mom. While they were there, she was totally calm. She was apologetic, and of course, she paid for the windshield. But as soon as they were gone, she panned my butt like you would not believe. That’s how my mom was. She was strict, and she kept me and my brothers on the straight and narrow as we grew up. I was the oldest of my three brothers, and I think she mellowed out with time, but when I was growing up, she was a perfectionist. Faith, family, and country were all big values to her, and she did a good job of passing those on to me. When my mom was pregnant with my brother, she was on bed rest for months and months. I was probably only 4 or 5 years old, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were the only things I knew how to make. I used to make PB&J after PB&J for the two of us, all day long until my dad got home. To this day, I still can’t stand peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but that memory has stayed with me.

“The memory of my mom and the memories of all the people I’ve cared about and lost to cancer live on everywhere in Omaha.”

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