A Reflection on Relay For Life, From Home

By Amy Lum

Dim lights, lit candles and over a hundred Exonians sitting together in Rink A. This is Luminaria, a part of Relay for Life dedicated to those who have been affected by cancer. Everyone pitches in. Dorms, sports teams and clubs come up with ideas for booths. Students come and pay for tickets to participate in the activities. As one of the Luminaria Committee members, I was touched by everyone’s effort and the amazing outcomes of our annual Relay.

This year, as with many other events, COVID-19 has moved Relay for Life online. With social media, it has become much easier to raise money and spread awareness. It’s simple to share a link to a donation page via text message or email; in less than a minute, information can be seen by people all over the world. Can Relay for Life be as effective online? Can the essence of Relay for life be captured over Instagram?

I remember last year, I sat on the ground among other Luminaria Committee members as we watched the event we had prepared unfold. As the lights dimmed down, “Jealous of the Angels” by Donna Taggart played. The audience was silent. All phones were turned off, and we were focused on the space in front of us. A couple of us from the Luminaria Committee got up to read off the names of those who are fighting, who have survived and who have lost the battle to cancer. 

After, I recall Shantelle and Audrey singing “Supermarket Flowers” and Michelle giving her speech. During national Relay for Life events, one person walks along a track for 24 hours. So, at the end of Luminaria, everyone got up from their seats and we walked along the “track” twice. 

For a total of thirty minutes, the lively event took on a quiet, tranquil atmosphere. It was a peaceful time for us to be together as a community, reflect and think about ourselves while appreciating those around us. There was also a chance for us to discuss with those that were present and let out any emotion—be it sadness, worry, longing, or stress—brought up by the touching performances, knowing there would be no judgment. 

The performance I remember the most is Michelle’s speech. Amid the silence, hearing her share the story of her grandfather without hiding anything at all, I was moved, and I think many others were too. For me, attending Relay for Life gave space to reflect on my experience having someone with cancer in my own family. It gave me the chance to connect, reflect and feel.

But when I watched the event unfold online, it was nowhere near the same. Although the committee heads had put in lots of time and effort coming up with new ways to spread awareness with things like the Ribbon Challenge, raffling and performances on Instagram, the atmosphere, the community and especially the memories were missing. People were reposting stories, spreading posts and writing nice comments, but I couldn't help feeling that much of the soul behind the event had disappeared. 

Without all of us at Exeter going around the booths with friends, sitting together and seeing the performers in person, I felt as if the week dedicated to Relay for Life passed by just like that. Out of 168 hours, I had spent no more than fifteen minutes thinking about Relay for Life. 

Although I’m extremely grateful for the tremendous effort it takes to move all of this online, Relay for Life to me is about the in-person connection. I mourn for the loss of these moments of memory, of real and true interaction, because they make all the difference.