On a sweltering June night, I found myself doing something I previously could only have dreamed of. At the Mountain Jam Festival at the Belleayre Resort in Highmount, N.Y., I was onstage, sharing a microphone with one of my favorite musical artists, Michael Franti, whose work I’ve admired for years. With a career spanning more than three decades, at 59, Franti is still rocking the planet with his exuberant music about love, community and positivity. He reminds us all to “Stay Human.”
Earlier in the concert, as Franti made his way through the audience on the lawn, I made sure he saw my “Do It for the Love” t-shirt. That’s the name of nonprofit organization he founded to inspire hope and healing in seriously-ill people, through the power of music. When he noticed my shirt, it suddenly clicked for him who I was.
For one brief moment, it was just me and Michael, acknowledging the battle I was “rising up” against. In December 2024, at age 65, I was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. I’d been battling breast cancer on and off since 2013, when I was 53. But now, a routine PET scan revealed that after five years of being NED (no evidence of disease) my cancer had returned with a vengeance, this time embedded throughout my bones.
Franti clasped my hand and pulled me closer to the mic. Together, we sang the chorus of "Rise Up." When I looked into Franti’s soulful eyes, I saw strength and compassion. I was so blissfully lost in the moment, it didn’t fully register that I was singing (joyfully, offkey!) in front of thousands. For one brief moment, it was just me and Michael, acknowledging the battle I was “rising up” against.
***
Let me backpedal a bit. In December 2024, at age 65, I was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer (MBC). I’d been battling breast cancer on and off since 2013, when I was 53. But now, a routine PET scan revealed that after five years of being NED (no evidence of disease) my cancer had returned with a vengeance, this time embedded throughout my bones.
I was devastated. How long did I have? Could I weather chemo a third time? Would I see my son marry? Get to hold my first grandchild? Visit Italy again?
After the initial gut-punch, I decided that for as long as I had left, I would live as loud and as large as possible. I would travel. Keep writing. Go to concerts that feed my soul. Spend time with people I cherish. Do things that give me joy.
How long did I have? Could I weather chemo a third time? Would I see my son marry? Get to hold my first grandchild? Visit Italy again? After the initial gut-punch, I decided that for as long as I had left, I would live as loud and as large as possible. I would travel. Keep writing. Go to concerts that feed my soul. Spend time with people I cherish. Do things that give me joy.
My treatment plan turned out to be monthly injections and daily pills to strengthen my bones and (hopefully) block the cancer cells. After trial and explosive gastrointestinal error, my oncology team found a cocktail of meds that didn’t wreak havoc on my stomach. So, I was free to live my best life, albeit in one-month increments.
Before I was diagnosed, I’d booked a yoga retreat in Morocco. By some miracle, I was still able to go. Terrified, I rode a camel, knowing I’d regret it on my deathbed if I hadn’t. My eighth novel, Immigrant Hearts came out in March. I was healthy enough to do promotion—readings and podcasts—despite the Stage 4 diagnosis I’d been dealt.
When I learned that several organizations did cool stuff for people like me, I decided to ride that wave of generosity for as long as it (and I) lasted. For example, Breast Cancer Options offered free monthly massages (or acupuncture sessions) to breast cancer survivors living in the Hudson Valley. Plus, they hosted “cancer camp” for those diagnosed with MBC: five days of workshops and wellness sessions at a lovely refuge.
That’s when I remembered Franti’s organization, “Do It for the Love.” Back in 2018, my friend Chiara was treated to a Michael Franti concert in her native Montclair, NJ. I’ll never forget the video. When Franti spoke to Chiara on the concert floor, she beamed. It was a high point during her lingering illness. Chiara was gone less than two years later, at just 48.
When I learned that several organizations did cool stuff for people like me, I decided to ride that wave of generosity for as long as it (and I) lasted. I remembered Franti’s organization, “Do It for the Love.” Back in 2018, my friend Chiara was treated to a Michael Franti concert in her native Montclair, NJ. I’ll never forget the video. When Franti spoke to Chiara on the concert floor, she beamed. It was a high point during her lingering illness. Chiara was gone less than two years later, at just 48.
When I noticed that Franti would be part of the Mountain Jam Festival in June, I contacted his organization and asked my oncologist’s office to fill out the accompanying online form. Despite lost paperwork, crossed signals, and other stumbling blocks, it all worked out. At the eleventh hour, I was comped two tickets to Franti’s Mountain Jam appearance. Then came my chance encounter with him on the venue’s dusty grass. It's something I’ll never forget, no matter how long (or short) my life may be.
***
My first Franti concert was in 2013. I distinctly remember the year because I’d just had a mastectomy and was still wearing a surgical drain under my shirt. It takes a special kind of performer to get you jumping while wearing a JP drain! Franti made me forget that I had cancer and was starting chemo in a few weeks. Also incredible was seeing our then 12-year-old son David onstage with Franti when he invited the kids in the audience to join him.
Since then, I’ve seen Franti perform many times. (Okay, maybe I’m an aging groupie.) Especially memorable was his show at Port Chester’s Capitol Theater. It was wonderful to see David dancing with Franti again, now as a college student. As you can see, Michael Franti has virtually been a part of our family for decades.
Since he and his wife Sara Agah Franti founded DIFTL, Franti has become an ally for the seriously ill, like me, making us feel seen, appreciated and acknowledged.
I’m not sure how long this dreadlocked, almost-sexagenarian, self-proclaimed “Soul Rocker” can keep the audience jumping for joy. But I, for one, will keep on rocking with him until my last breath.
Catherine Gigante-Brown’s novels, Immigrant Hearts, Cry of Silence, Paul and Carol Go to Guatemala, Different Drummer, Better than Sisters, and The El Trilogy (The El, The Bells of Brooklyn, Brooklyn Roses) are published by Volossal. She divides her time between New York and Florida.
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This one really burned my heart in the best of ways. I recently lost my wife, Jess, to stage 4 colorectal cancer. She was only 46, which feels way too young for someone who loved life so much, and was pretty good at living it, to die.
She, like you, decided that for as long as she had left, she would live as large as possible. We travelled, she started writing, sharing her journey on Substack. We continued going to see live music. Music was how we met, a big part of how we connected, and so we had a great soundtrack to our relationship...
She too made a point to spend time with people she cherished - we drove half way across the county to spend time with some of our favorites 2 weeks before she died. Jess continued doing things that gave her joy. She lived on purpose, and I believe she died a good death because of it.
So thanks - both for sharing this story of choosing to live in love with life despite it's inevitable end, and for the opportunity to feel grateful, so lucky, for 24 years with my person.
I wish that you may do many, many more things that fill you up 🖤🙏🏻
Fantastic! I hope Michael Franti reads this. I hope he knows he is the sound of sunshine for a lot of us. Thank you for your beautiful essay (thank you Sari, too!). Sending you hugs and doing some health hopeful whispering 🎈