It's been so long I can barely remember the cause of the family rift that kept me separated from an aunt, an uncle, and cousins for many years. All that remains clear is that a once-close family split apart because of disagreement and hurt feelings and that my grandma -- the glue that held this family together for more than 50 years -- was heartbroken. She did everything she could to repair the damage of her splintered family. But despite begging, pleading, and continued prayers, reconciliation seemed impossible -- until it became evident this sweet woman was about to die.

The progress was slow and began with a rallying of family members at my grandma's bedside. She was somewhat incoherent at the time, and I'm not quite sure if she realized her broken family was on the mend. But I hope she knows, in some heavenly way, that she is the one who ultimately brought everyone together.

After her passing, we all gathered for her memorial service. We took turns spreading her ashes at a tree planted in her honor. We talked and visited and laughed and ate. We broke the ice and opened the door for further interaction. It was refreshing to mourn the loss of Gram without overriding tension and conflict.

I'm not sure if family relations would have continued without what happened next. I suspect we may have all returned to our lives and gone our separate ways, happy we had reconnected but still missing the closeness we once experienced. But then cancer entered our lives, shocked us all, and gave us all reason to stay in touch.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer not long after my grandma died. And the same people who came to her bedside came to my rescue in ways I never would have imagined in the heat of battle. The same people who for years were absent from my life were the ones offering me support and encouragement and love. They helped me get better.

Once I was better, life returned to a somewhat normal routine. And maybe we would have routinely slipped back into our selfish ways. But illness struck again, requiring we all step back up to the plate.

My uncle, who has lived with diabetes for many years, was faced this year with losing his foot. Thankfully, he found specialists who gave him hope and reason to travel every month for several months to a clinic in my city, where eight family members live and where options never before available to him became a reality -- both medically and personally.

My uncle is doing well, walking on his foot with the aid of a brace. And our family is doing well, as a result of frequent visits, lunches, and continued laughs.

It took death and disease to bridge the gap that existed for much too long between the members of my family. And just this weekend, after spending a glorious weekend with my long-lost cousins, I realized we have possibly arrived back where we once started -- before whatever led to our disagreement and hurt feelings drove us apart.

I believe Gram is smiling down upon us at this very moment, content at last that her three beautiful children -- and their children and their children -- are again a happy family.

I remember thinking when my grandma was a spunky 80-year-old -- still going to aerobics classes in her purple tights -- that it must be sad to be such an age when so many friends and acquaintances are falling ill and passing away. My grandma was always one to care for others, call on others, pray for others -- and often she seemed to be the only one in her circle who was thriving. Somehow, she took it all in stride and continued baking and gardening and sewing and living strong until her own death at the age of 86 -- when she left her remaining friends and acquaintances wondering if their own time on Earth was approaching a quick end. At the time, I thought this loss of friends was merely a side effect of aging. It didn't seem to concern me at my own young age of 30. I didn't really know any 30-year-olds who were dying. And I didn't predict anyone my age would be dying until I was closer to the age of 80. How wrong I was.

I am now 36 years old. And I know many women my age who have died -- most of them because of breast cancer, the same disease I have been fighting for nearly two years. So it's not only sad to me that people my age are dying, it's also quite personal and frightening -- for it could easily me in the same predicament. So I feel vulnerable -- so many years earlier than I imagined.

I think I know how my grandma must have felt when her loved ones were leaving her. And I think I will take her same approach to coping with this unfortunate fact of life. Although I couldn't possibly bake and garden and sew like she did, I can keep busy with my own hobbies and interests. And I can continue living strong until my own death -- which hopefully won't occur until after I've made my appearance in purple tights. About 50 years from now.

Ryder Cup golfer Darren Clarke lost his wife Heather to breast cancer last month. Clarke has not played competitively since July 21 when he took time off from golfing to care for his wife. Since her passing, Clarke has been thinking and regrouping and mourning the loss of his 39-year-old wife and mother of their two young sons. Now, he is ready to re-enter the world of golf. He is ready, he says, for the upcoming Ryder Cup.

Clarke says his game is good and while his decision to return to his sport was tough, he is returning only because he knows he can fully contribute. And he knows his wife would have wanted him to play so he made himself available for selection. Clarke could not have qualified automatically due to the time he took off to care for Heather but he was eligible to be selected -- and he was. Clarke is grateful and prepared for the challenge. "I am stronger altogether," he says. "I've had to face up a lot of tough things. I hope I've come through it a better person."

At the end of the September 30 FACTors Breast Cancer Educational Conference in Tampa, Florida, there will be a passing of the torch ceremony to celebrate the end of Ovarian Cancer Month and the start of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. But first, conference participants can gather a whole lot of information on a whole lot of topics at this 19th annual conference, hosted by the Tampa-based H. Lee Moffitt Cancer Center & Research Institute. The conference -- with a registration fee of just $25 -- includes breakfast, lunch, an art exhibit, and a variety of educational sessions which span topics such as healthy eating and exercise, genetic connections, fertility, sexuality, early onset menopause, caregiving, relaxation, communicating with children about cancer, and shaping the future.

Actress and breast cancer survivor Lynn Redgrave's daughter, Annabel Clark, will deliver the keynote address and will discuss her book, Journal: A Mother and Daughter's Recovery From Breast Cancer. There will be exhibits and door prizes and a special lunch guest too -- breast cancer survivor Dee Dee Jonrowe, the world's top female dog sledder and 23-year veteran of the Alaskan Iditarod race.

From 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM on September 30, the topic of breast cancer will be top priority for all who attend this conference in Tampa. And then the next day -- which kicks off the month of October -- breast cancer will be top priority all over the country when Breast Cancer Awareness Month commences. And we pay special attention to this disease that already gets a lot of special attention. Fortunately.

I was present for death only one time in my 36 years of life. I consider this both a bad and a good thing. It's bad because I did not want my grandmother to die -- and watching it happen made it so real, so vivid, so painful. I don't think I would have ever chosen to watch my grandma die -- to watch her slip from consciousness to coma, to observe her altered body once death arrived, to witness the movement of her body on a stretcher as it was wheeled out of the house from the bedroom I still see every time I visit my mom's house. But I think I am lucky really -- and this is the good part -- because I got to be with her during her final moments. I got to watch her body as it lay still, peaceful and calm and still breathing. I got to talk to her and although she could not respond, I believe she could hear my words. And it makes me happy to know my grandma may have known I was with just prior to her flight to heaven. And after her flight, I got to touch her cool hands. I got to feel the power of the passing of one life -- a long life -- and I got to feel the comfort of a death that was not ugly or painful or difficult. It was sad -- it's still sad -- that my grandma died three years ago. But what a privilege it was to be part of the day she left this world.

Susan DeWilde left this world in much the same way -- with loved ones by her side. She was a fighter and had conquered several rounds of breast cancer, a tumor in her spinal cord, uterine cancer, lymphatic cancer, and then leukemia, which took her life at the age of 53. I don't know this from Susan herself but from her friend, Christy Mack -- who helped her accept her death and guided her into her own final moments so that she could escape her pain and die peacefully. Christy writes about her beautiful friend and her empowering death in an article that appears in the August 2006 Oprah Magazine. Titled Friends to the End, Christy's story details how she soothed her friend, cradled her hand, and talked her through her last breaths. She helped her on her way during a time her friend feared most. Christy writes, "What she and I shared the night she died was a precious gift of friendship, emotionally profound and sacred in its perfection. It broke my heart. It strengthened my soul."

This I understand.