It’s just before sundown when a cool breeze cuts through the blazing heat that had, for the better part of the afternoon, consumed the hundreds who converged on the Wayne County Fairgrounds Friday evening.
And for a moment, the gust pushes away the smell of hotdogs and barbecue chicken — replacing those scents with something sweeter, something floral.
Sure, the explanation could be simple — a spray of perfume or handful of lotion.
But maybe, just maybe, Minnie had taken a ride on the wind to remind her daughter, Teresa Hobelman, that ever since she lost her battle with blood cancer in 2016, she has been everywhere.
“She was such a talented gardener. She would always tell people, ‘Send me flowers while I’m here. I won’t be able to enjoy them when I’m gone,'” Teresa said. “Now, every time I see an arrangement, I think, ‘God. Mom would really love that.'”
Those who turned out for the county’s 25th annual Relay for Life to memorialize cancer victims, honor survivors, and stand alongside those still fighting could tell you about the little things that make their loved ones special.
For 14-year-old Levi Lanier, it’s his grandmother’s breakfast casserole — a combination of eggs, sausage, and cheese that “hits the spot.”
But the teenager would argue that honoring Elaine Normile’s survival isn’t about any particular dish — that a human being’s impact stretches far beyond any one thing they will ultimately be remembered for.
“Everything,” the young man said when asked what his grandmother means to him. “She’s always taken great care of me.”
So on Friday, he reciprocated.
Standing alongside Kathy Waters, a fellow member of the Heart of David congregation, he tore tape and cut ribbon the duo would use to decorate a ladder meant to honor Elaine — and to give thanks to the god they believe kept a woman known for spreading joy in their lives.
“We’re family at church and family takes care of family,” Kathy said. “She brings a lot of joy — a lot of love. You can always call when you need something. She always knows the right thing to say. And she finds the good in everything. She’s got such an open heart. I love her.”
Similar stories were shared across the fairgrounds well into the evening, but the event was not just an opportunity for the Relay family to lean on one another. The community showed up, too.
The Goldsboro High School Mighty Marching Cougar Band, under the instruction of Kenneth Northcutt, did its best to help survivors celebrate ahead of — and during — their ceremonial first lap.
Jody Nassef was right behind the band, helping to hold the survivors banner, but had you told his doctors back in 2007 that more than 12 years after a brain cancer diagnosis, the Rosewood native would be wearing a purple shirt at Relay, they likely wouldn’t have believed you.
“Some doctors said I had three to five years to live. Some told me five or six years,” he said. “I didn’t want to hear any of that.”
So despite the fact that he was “scared that I could die at any moment,” he endured surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. He did “a lot of praying” and put his faith in God. And when he lit the Flame of Hope Friday and shared laughs with his children, he did so knowing that he is one of the lucky ones.
“What (God) did for me was he put everything in place … to heal me,” Nassef said. “I never thought … I could live a normal life again. As you can see, we are as close to normal as it gets.”
For those who attended the event, the line between normal and fantasy was blurred, as several teams took the “There’s No Place Like Hope” theme to heart — right down to the yellow brick road.
There were Dorothys and a Toto in a basket. There was a Tin Man and a few houses crushing limp legs wearing ruby red slippers.
Missy Spasojevic’s team was among those who ran with the idea of turning their campsite into Oz. They did it, she said, for the entire Grantham community, but a few special women who recently lost cancer battles were at the forefront of their minds.
So as her daughter, Allison, lined up tributes to them, Missy talked about how irreplaceable they were.
Sue Hill, she said, was a teacher and a giant in the Grantham community who, for many years, was in charge of their local Relay effort. So when she got sick, it “hit us hard.”
“It was tough. You know, it’s a small community, so your teacher is kind of like your second mom,” Missy said. “(She) would be here right now, so when something like that happens to people like that, it’s up to us to step up.”
But a sense of duty to carry the torch is not the only thing that brought her out to the fairgrounds Friday. It was also an opportunity to teach her daughters an important lesson.
“Just wanting them to see that life is short,” she said, watching Allison gently place one luminary after another in a line across from the Grantham site. “This isn’t just a bag. It’s a person that’s either suffering, survived, or has been lost. It’s more than just a bag you’re holding.”
Less than 100 feet away, Teresa shares a laugh with several members of her team. It’s clear that they approve of her “munchkin” outfit — plush, pointy shoes and all.
Moments like these, she said, are what Relay — what life — is all about. It’s the simple things — just like the flowers her mother, Minnie, treasured so much.
“I was with her when she took her last breath. I was right there by her side,” Teresa said. “Since then, there have been a lot of people around me who have gotten cancer. Some have survived and some have not, but I see where the progress is coming. That’s why we do Relay. What a great way to get people together to celebrate the survivors and to let them know, ‘We’re here. We’re fighting for this cure. It’s going to happen.’ My mother might have lost her battle, but there’s hope every day.”
