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Guest Author: Denise & Melissa T. in South Carolina
Our dad, Bobby Tanner, began experiencing stroke-like symptoms on May 25, 2019. By the end of that day, our world changed when we were told he had a tumor on his brain. After a biopsy in his hometown of Greenville, SC, our family made the decision to seek the best possible care, which meant traveling to a hospital system with specialized neuro-oncology.
Testing revealed that the tumor was glioblastoma. As a family, we were already familiar with this diagnosis — we had lost our mom’s brother to glioblastoma in 2006. A cancer considered rare didn’t feel rare to us anymore. It felt personal. It felt unfair. It felt like something no family should have to face twice.
When we learned our loved one had a brain tumor, everything changed in an instant. The strongest man we had ever known suddenly needed us in ways we never imagined — even with our mom steadfastly by his side.
From that moment on, nothing was simple or individual anymore. Every decision became a family decision — where he would be treated, what doctors to trust, which care plan gave him the best chance. We found ourselves diving headfirst into research, learning everything we could about this terrible disease called glioblastoma.
We had no choice but to become advocates, students, and decision-makers overnight — all with one goal in mind: giving our dad the very best chance to fight.
For the next year, we made the journey to MUSC in Charleston, SC, where Bobby underwent resection surgery, multiple hospitalizations, and frequent MRIs and follow-up appointments. That season of life was filled with uncertainty, but also the deep love of family as we all walked every step of the journey together.
In that year, we experienced some of the hardest moments of our lives, but also some of the most meaningful…a shrimp dinner, a walk on the beach, a trip to the barn to check on the horses. The simple things became lasting memories.
Bobby’s Legacy
We lost Daddy on May 25, 2020 — exactly one year to the day from his diagnosis. The sun was rising on Memorial Day as we said our goodbye. The date that once marked the beginning of our fight a year prior became the day we had to say goodbye.
Bobby Tanner’s story didn’t end on that day—it lives on through us and through the lives he touched.
Tanner’s Hope was born from that love and that loss. It is how we carry him forward — by supporting other families, raising awareness, and standing in the gap for those facing the unimaginable. Because no one should have to walk this journey alone, and every family deserves hope.
Impact on Family
One thing we wish more people understood about the brain tumor experience is that it impacts so much more than just health — it changes every part of a family’s life.
It’s not just doctor visits and treatment plans. It’s the emotional weight of watching someone you love fight a battle you can’t fight for them. It’s becoming caregivers, researchers, advocates, and decision-makers overnight. It’s balancing hope with reality, strength with fear. It’s that ‘the rare cancer’ really isn’t rare.
And even after the treatments end or the fight is over, the impact doesn’t go away. Families carry it with them — in their grief, in their perspective, and in the way they move through life forever changed.
But within that, there is also a depth of love, resilience, and purpose that most people never see. The brain tumor community is made up of some of the strongest, most compassionate people we’ve ever known.
We just wish more people understood the full weight of the journey, and how much support, awareness, and compassion truly matter.
If there’s one more thing we would want people to take away, it’s this: no family should have to face this diagnosis alone.
National Brain Tumor Society
What we didn’t realize at the time was that there were communities ready to walk alongside us — like the National Brain Tumor Society — offering not just information, but connection, understanding, and support from people who get it.
Looking back, having access to that kind of community earlier could have eased some of the emotional weight. It’s not that it changes the diagnosis, but it changes how you carry it. It gives you a place to ask questions, to share fears, to find hope, and to feel seen during a time that can otherwise feel incredibly isolating.
Finding community can make a profound difference after a brain tumor diagnosis—especially in moments when everything feels uncertain and overwhelming.
That’s why, now, when families reach out to us in the middle of their own fight, we make it a priority to connect them with resources like NBTS’s Caregiver Support Conversations. We want them to know they don’t just have a community in us — they have a broader network of people who understand, who have walked this road, and who are ready to stand beside them.
And honestly, it’s been unreal to us the friendships and connections we’ve made through NBTS, across our state and far beyond. What started as something we wish we had during our hardest days has turned into a powerful network of support, compassion, and lasting relationships.
Because no one should have to face this journey alone — and now, they don’t have to.
Brain Tumor Awareness Month
In 2019, when our dad was diagnosed, we had no idea what Brain Tumor Awareness Month even was. His diagnosis came in May. One year later, to the day, he passed — again in May. And his birthday, May 31, closes out the month.
So for us, Gray May is deeply personal. It holds the day he was diagnosed, the day he left us, and the day he was born.
The year after we lost Daddy, we made the decision to “take back May.” What once felt like a month filled with heartbreak became a month of purpose. We leaned into awareness — wearing gray, sharing his story — but also into action.
We became involved in events like Race for Hope DC and Head to the Hill, not only in his memory, but in his honor.
And along the way, this journey has introduced us to so many others walking the same road. During May, we don’t just honor our dad — we honor every fighter, every family, and every story. Their strength and bravery are what continue to push us forward.
