My father was 62 years young when he died of cancer, leaving behind a loving wife, three daughters, and a new grandchild. Anyone who has lost a loved one knows the pain and emptiness that suddenly appear, and how those feelings can linger for years. Because my father was so young when he passed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been robbed of certain joys he would have experienced had he lived just a few more years. He was so close to retirement, and I know he would have made many plans to enjoy that time with my mom. Though he became a grandfather briefly, I am painfully aware of all the future moments he would have cherished as a grandfather had he been with us longer.

As time passed, the immediate pain of his loss subsided, but the thoughts of everything he was missing each day grew harder to avoid. I often wondered if those thoughts and feelings would ever go away.

Then one day, my sister Nancy and I came across an advertisement for a 5K race to raise money for cancer research. It was the Revlon Run/Walk for Women, with all proceeds going toward the fight against cancer. Although the focus was primarily on women’s cancers, we felt that any research to combat cancer is a victory for everyone, so we signed up. For our first run, the event encouraged participants to pin a sign on their backs indicating who they were running for. Nancy and I proudly ran for our dad. That first run remains one of my most memorable; it gave us a way to transform our grief into something positive—an opportunity to help give someone else a chance to beat cancer. Seeing many cancer survivors during the run was uplifting, and it reminded us that some do overcome this devastating illness.

Nancy and I continued to run for many years. With each event, as we raised more money and awareness, the emptiness in my heart slowly began to fill with hope and inspiration. Although the Revlon event happened only once a year, I started training for other races and eventually became a St. Jude Runner. Knowing that St. Jude focuses on childhood cancer made it even more compelling for me. As a mother, I can’t imagine the overwhelming fear and stress of being told that your child has cancer.

This year, I turned 60 and ran my first St. Jude 5K here in Atlanta. I plan to continue running for St. Jude as long as I’m physically able. The space that was left in my heart after my father’s passing will never fully close, but it grows smaller and smaller, one run at a time.