Hi everyone, thank you for being here and supporting this foundation. Dianne, thank you for letting me
speak tonight. This foundation means so much to me and my family and it’s an honor to be a part of it.
My dad and I spent many sacred hours together in the last three months of his life. After a nearly three
year fight against lung cancer, my dad decided to cease all treatment. He spent those last months at home
in hospice care and my husband and I came home almost every weekend to be with him and my family.
As he became weaker I would lay next to him, holding his hand and he would say quietly and with a few
tears, “I just don’t want you to remember me this way.” He said this repeatedly and eventually I realized
in those moments that he was never scared of dying, only scared of his daughter forgetting who her dad
was. I assured him that my memories of him wouldn’t be overshadowed by these last three months of
deterioration. I told him that I would remember him as the dedicated, brave, supportive, inspirational,
active, artful, wise, and tender hearted man he was - but would I? After he would drift off to sleep I would
panic about what memories I would be left with after he died. I was scared that it wouldn’t be enough. I
wanted to be sure that I would remember him at his best and not in this weakened state.
In those moments of panic, I realized what a gift the Bob Mayberry foundation, MD Anderson, and Dr.
William gave me. Because not only were they able to extend my dad’s life for nearly three more years
through revolutionary technology, they in fact gave me the best memories I have of my dad. It turns out
that all the memories I have that best exemplify and remind me of his truly wonderful character were
while he had cancer. This is because the care he was given allowed him to live with cancer and not
merely survive. He was able to be the father I knew and the man he wanted to be while being treated for
lung cancer.
. . .
In the winter of 2014, while I was home for Christmas break, I found myself trying to catch up with my
mom and dad on their way to the gym. On these days it was hard to believe this this man was living with
cancer. I’d even be willing to bet that while he was doing his pull ups, he was probably making plans for
how he would rearrange the plumerias in his yard when he got home, and which trees needed pruning. At
the gym the three of us would go through our work out routines and I’d usually catch a warm smile from
him across the gym. He never missed a chance to make sure I knew he was thinking of me.
On May 20th 2014, at the end of my senior year at Texas Tech, my professors from the business college,
flew my dad up to Lubbock so that he could attend a ceremony where I would be receiving an award. I
was grateful for the award but even more grateful for the memory I have with him from after the
ceremony. That evening my husband, my dad, and I went out for dessert and my dad couldn’t stop telling
me how proud he was of me. He made sure I knew how happy he was to see me grow into an adult and
how it made him feel fulfilled with his life. My dad was my inspiration through college. His support and
genuine interest in what I was doing and accomplishing pushed me and broadened my perspective of what
I was capable of. And just as he was my inspiration, I later found out that I was his. My mom told me that
my graduation was his motivation to fight his cancer, his motivation to take the risk with new drug trials
and to power through the frequent visits to MD Anderson in Houston. My success was his bucket list, and
he made it. I’ll never forget his beaming pride that graduation day and the sense of fulfillment it gave to
both me and my dad.
This January 3rd, 2015 my dad walked me down the aisle at my wedding. I had never seen my dad stand
so tall and sturdy, seemingly unburdened by cancer. I remember holding his hand while the prelude
began, waiting for the cathedral doors to open. We embraced that moment which could have been easily
stolen from us by lung cancer. I squeezed his familiar hand and was at ease. That day his only concern
was making it down the aisle without stepping on my dress. Once we made it down the aisle, in the
presence of all those we love, my dad gave me away to my loving husband, Zach. In this moment we
were all acutely aware that this truly was my dad giving his daughter away, trusting Zach with his
daughter’s life and happiness, as none of knew how much longer my dad had left. My dad had his own
unique bond with Zach. He trusted and loved him and that trust made our wedding day a sacred day of
comfort and not sadness.
. . .
Just a month later the decision was made that it was time to cease all treatment for his lung cancer as all
benevolent treatments had been exhausted. However this was not a tragic ending. Dr. William and MD
Anderson, supported by the Bob Mayberry Foundation, gave my dad the chance to live for almost three
more years. Through groundbreaking research, innovative technology, and premium patient care and
attention, unmatched by almost any other hospital in the world, my dad was able to keep living the life he
already loved.
There is still no cure for lung cancer, but doctors like Dr. William are making strides. Some of the
treatments my dad was on came with almost no significant side effects – this is a success in and of itself
and what allowed me to have these cherished memories. The support given by this foundation was a
donation of memories given to me and my family that we will always treasure, but with continuing
support the researchers and doctors at MD Anderson will be able to save lives and not just memories.
Lung cancer was expected to strip him of the qualities that made him the wonderful father, husband, son,
brother, and friend he was, but instead the care he was given only enhanced those qualities. My father was
a dedicated, brave, supportive, inspirational, active, artful, wise, and tender hearted man and that is how
I’ll always remember him.