Growing up, October was synonymous with a handful of colors.

Red, yellow and orange leaves fell from the autumn trees. Spooky Halloween decorations donned black and gray.

These days, it’s pink — perhaps my least favorite — that seems to be everywhere I look.

But the more I see, the better.

October marks National Breast Cancer Awareness Month and the world of sports doesn’t sit on the sideline.

Athletes, from the NFL to area high schools, jump in on the act with pink alterations to uniforms, while raising money to fight the cause.

Cancer — of all kinds — is a universal enemy. Regardless of race, economic class or upbringing, it’s nearly impossible to find a person who hasn’t been affected by that ugly c-word in some form or fashion.

Sometimes, cancer ends a life far too early. In fortunate circumstances, a survivor emerges as a superhero.

The powers of Superman, Batman and Spiderman combined can’t measure up to the abilities of my mother Shirley.

Mom, the strongest and sweetest woman I’ll ever know, celebrates her birthday today. I would reveal which number, but Christmas is around the corner and presents could be in peril.

Luckily, I’ve had the pleasure of sharing many birthdays and holidays with my mom. At one point, it was uncertain how many would be left.

When I was in eighth grade, my mom was diagnosed with lymphoma — the latest challenge in a string of life-altering tests.

Shirley had lost her mother and 6-year-old son to cancer within the past three years and endured a divorce in between. When the diagnosis was received, she had just battled through pregnancy and had an infant son to care for, not to mention a couple of pesky teenagers.

A lot of people might have asked, “Why me?”

My mom is far from most people.

With every year that goes by, I marvel at her resilience more and more.

A few months later, my eighth-grade graduation rolled around and it appeared my mom would be too ill to attend. I didn’t mind, though. It was just eighth grade, no big deal.

At that point, I believe my mom was determined to soak in every experience she could. She wasn’t going to miss my eighth-grade graduation if there was a chance she wouldn’t be there four years later to see it in high school.

I didn’t fully comprehend that back then. Now, I do.

Vulnerable to even simple diseases due to treatment, forced to wear a hospital mask, she courageously showed up.

I received a few awards and snagged my diploma. My accomplishments were fairly irrelevant, but still something a mom could be proud of, I suppose.

I don’t know if I’ve ever properly thanked her for making sure she was a part of that memory, albeit an inconsequential day of achievement.

Eventually, my mom fully recovered and hasn’t stopped living life to the fullest. Through a tough decade, she had every reason to be bitter. Instead, she got better.

My mom possesses an uncanny ability to embrace the positives of life, no matter how many negatives are thrown her way.

That’s why I truly enjoy seeing our country and communities take a month to bring cancer awareness to the forefront.

Regardless of how many dollars are generated, if the effort helps save just one mother half as good as mine, the result is priceless.

Happy Birthday, Mom, and thank you — for everything.

Jason Orfao is a staff writer for the Butler Eagle.