Sing for the Cure: John’s Story

The Greenville Gay Men’s Chorus presents

SING FOR THE CURE

A powerful evening reflecting the journeys of those impacted by breast cancer. Let music unite us in love, strength, and support for this important cause!

As we get closer to our performance of this historic piece, we’re sharing powerful stories from our chorus community about the impact of breast cancer. Their journeys remind us why we sing—for hope, healing, and a cure.

Friday, March, 28th | 7 pm | Peace Center Gunter Theatre
Tickets available here.

Permission to Cry

Thank you to John Seymour for this painfully poignant memory of his mother, his father, and John Wayne.

Dad woke us early that morning to tell us that Mom had “passed on.” Since I was only 8 years old, I had no idea what this euphemism meant, let alone did I understand the whole concept of death. I knew there was a hospital bed in the back room, and I knew that Mom was sick. When she wasn’t in the hospital, she spent her days in a housecoat and slippers and was cold and tired all the time. That’s just the way things were.

Dad did not sit me down beforehand and tell me what was happening, nor did he let me know when it was time to say goodbye – at least not that I remembered. There was a memorial service, but no casket. Dad told me that I should be proud that she helped doctors learn how to fight breast cancer, since she went through a variety of experimental treatments. And her body had been donated to science so doctors could learn more. Mr. Spock and Dad taught me to be logical.

After the memorial, there was no talk about Mom or pictures in the house. Eight months later, there was a new woman who I was to call Mom. We moved across town, and I attended a different school with different friends. That’s just the way things were.

Decades later, I felt like a bad son because I could not recall what Mom looked like. All I could remember of her face was from a photograph that I kept in my wallet until it fell apart.Today, I recognize that memories are preserved when we replay them. If we had lived in that same house, if we had kept pictures of her, if I had been asked to say goodbye, if we had talked about her after she was gone… John Wayne and Dad taught me how to deal with grief.

It is 58 years later, and John Wayne, Leonard Nimoy and Dad have now all passed on. The tears are streaming down my face as I write this.