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In early March, back in 1994, somewhere after 10 at night, Deborah Wayton was laying on her back on the cold, greasy floor
of a dingy raceshop in Tucker. She was under a stock car, assisting her fiance' weld on an exhaust pipe after it had fallen
off on the track at practice earlier that day. She was perfectly attired for the situation - long, red manicured nails, makeup
and lipstick, and clean jeans with white tennis shoes. At least her fiance thought so!
It was at that moment that I lost the last of any pre-wedding jitters I may have had. THIS girl was THE girl for me and
I knew it in my heart completely. And so began our wonderful journey. From the beginning, it was apparent to both of us that
we had been brought together for a reason. She would say it, and while I only knew her as an answer to my prayers, I could
sense it too.
There were 4 great years between then and that dreadful day in May of 1998 when we got the news she had leukemia. The
ordeal to follow is hardly a memory now, resurrected only by a few snapshots of the good times and the daily reminder by our
son, Brian. But that day was at the center of who Deborah was and the near miraculous things she accomplished in the next
eight years. As we were driving home from the clinic after learning she had CML, she was in tears but managed to say "All
I want to do is get Brian raised". A matter-of-fact statement by any other mother but she said it with such resolution,
and we had been together long enough, that I knew there wasn't going to be any stopping her. I promised to help her and that's
what she did. Selflessly and honestly doing the best she could.
Deborah Hamilton led a purpose driven life. No, she didn't read the Rick Warren best seller. She didn't need to - she
wrote her own book. That was just who she was. And, it's easy to tell where that drive came from. It came from her dad John
and her mother Myra, both of whom she loved dearly and eventually became very similar to in many respects. They were tremendous
parents to their children and it was from them that Deb learned to be a loving mother.
6 months after learning of her chronic condition in May, Deb recieved a bone marrow transplant and a chance at a new life.
She didn't take the offering lightly. She struggled against her chronic breathing problems and was able to do almost anything
as long as certain plans were made in advance. Finally, in 2004 she reached a huge milestone in her recovery - 5 years leukemia
free. That's when one is considered "cured". At last it seemed like things were taking off.
Calling Debbie an "involved" mother wouldn't recognize the great contributions she made to Brian's friends and
their families. If there was a volunteer position available, Debbie would be right there on the bus with them, chaperoning
her way right through Brian's elementary, middle, and high school activities. Secretly, I believe with my heart, she was living
her youth all over again, in an effort to experience as much of life as she could. We know us adults don't have much fun so
she rode with the crowd that did.
Last year, Deb called me into the bedroom and asked me to sit down for something she had to tell me. That set my alarm
bells off - she usually wasn't one to set up bad news. She had been fighting a low platelet condition for a few months but
there wasn't a sign that could prepare us for what was to come. Then she told me that her leukemia had returned as AML. My
gut clenched and, as I wept with her, I felt the hope and optimism in our relationship leave the room. This was going to be
the fight of our lives and there were no reassuring voices to soothe us like we heard from Moffit during her first round.
Debbie could never give over half of the raising of Brian to me or anyone else. Sure, she knew it might be the politically
correct thing to do, and she understood how I yearned for more say in his affairs, but she never was able to let go. It was
always about 80/20 in her favor. And that went for the disagreements we had too - about 8 out of 10 were over Brian. Fortunately,
she got her way in this regard because I fell way short on fathering skills for a challenging ball of energy like Brian. I
eventually learned but it was only by Deb showing me my shortcomings.
On a muggy, rainy night on May 29th of this year, Deborah Lynn Hamilton cheered her son during graduation ceremonies from
Shiloh High School. And her family and friends were there to cheer her on as she thumbed her nose at her fatal illness and
fulfilled the declaration she had made to our family back in 1998. At the festivities, she was absolutely radiant, looking
the best she had in years. Her beaming pride easily sent the leukemia packing for the night, replacing it with the warm glow
that only an accomplishment of this magnitude could bestow. The next morning, she entered the hospital again for another week
long stay.
Prayers for herself were not part of her purpose. Towards the end, I asked her if she had been praying. She answered no
and I didn't really understand why then. How could she not be praying every minute like she did when we beat this the first
time around? I think I know now - survival was never a part of her purpose after completing the final motherly duty of putting
Brian in college. I think she knew that earlier than any of us and accepted her future before she decided to carry on the
fight after the leukemia had entered her spine. She could have easily given up at that moment but, in her loving way, her
last decision was made for the rest of us, so we would have something to cling to.
In life Debbie was many things to many people. To her co-workers, she was the reliable, responsible worker who kept a
bright disposition, even when things weren't flowing well. Her cool head and soothing attitude was always an asset to her
employers. To her close friends, she gave great advice but she was also a respectful listener and sounding board for all
of their problems. If a talk with Deb didn't give you confidence, you were probably in the kind of trouble that leads to time
behind bars. To her son, she was the rock on which he became a man. He has had a lot of growing up to do in the past year,
but she can look down on him with full confidence that she gave him the best foundation for building a strong and happy life.
So, 12 years ago, we promised we would love, honor, and cherish each other until death seperated us. That vow has now
been fulfilled and with it's completion, Deb has given me a new purpose - one that is as important as her own life - to continue
as Brian's rock and foundation as he becomes a young adult. I made that promise to Deb many times when she was sick and I
now make it to Brian himself. I'm here for you and I'll always be here for you - until death does us part. Amen
Eulogy - August 26, 2006
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