Sharon (Rossi) Kay Fremion-Hallock, Wife, Mother, Sister, Daughter, aka Fort Wayne’s Queen of Rock ‘n Roll. I still remember the day that I first met Sharon. I had listened to her for many years on Rock 104, but I never had the pleasure of meeting her. One August afternoon, a mutual friend asked me to go over to the Stadium Bar and Grill, after work, to have a beer. Sharon was sitting at the bar, and my friend introduced me to her. We did the small talk intro, but I had to leave to pick up my daughter. Something inside of me changed when I hit the sunlight. As soon as I left the Stadium, Sharon told everyone at the bar that could hear, “I just met the man that I am going to marry.” I did not see her again for almost four months, but once I met her the second time, I asked her out. The rest became history!
There is now a huge hole in my life, and I have a huge pair of shoes to fill. If you ever had the chance to meet Sharon, the first impression would be the size of her heart. Sharon always put everyone and everything before herself. She never wanted or asked for anything for herself, but she would always offer whatever she had to give. Sharon taught me how to be humble, how to give, and how to be there at a moments’ notice, prepared for any situation that might arise out of life. Her fame and popularity never went to her head. When her Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer, a year before she was diagnosed with her own cancer, we drove to Peru every weekend to spend time with John and Vicki. Sharon wanted to let her Dad know that Vicki would be well taken care of, in his absence. This helped him tremendously, to prepare for his next journey, on which he was about to embark.
We can never know what God has planned for our lives. Two and a half years ago, I lost my job of 15 years, due to attrition. I was so angry, but little did I know that I needed to trust in the Lord, for whatever was part of the plan. Sharon told me not to worry; that everything would work out. And, in the end, Sharon was right again, as usual. Sharon had an uncanny knack of trust, a concept that I am trying to finally grasp. Losing my job actually allowed me to be there for Sharon, to take care of her, to love her, and to nurture her throughout this ordeal. One month after her Dad, John, passed away from lung cancer, Sharon was diagnosed with breast cancer. Initially, the diagnosis was Stage 3, but when the final results were revealed, it was Stage 4, inoperable. Her doctor had initially told her that she had 4 or 5 years, but when the surgeon put the port in for chemo, I was told 6 months to a year. Obviously, the surgeon saw something. I never told Sharon this, but somehow I think she knew. Anyone that knew Sharon knew that she had the gift of planning any kind of celebration. Sharon immediately went to work planning her funeral. I do not know how she did this, but I was with her every day, every hour and every minute, right up to the end. I miss her tremendously, as any spouse would miss their better half. One day, we will be together again. She is with me every day; but mostly, she and Buzz Maxwell are making beautiful music for all of the Angels to hear.
On Thursday, February 23, 2012, my beautiful wife, soul mate, love of my life, lost her short, but hard fought battle with breast cancer. Sharon was diagnosed with Stage 4, inoperable, estrogen driven breast cancer last July, but could not be put on full tilt chemo, as it had already progressed to her chest wall, lymph system, spine and bones. She could no longer produce her own red and white blood cells, so heavy duty chemo was out. When she was diagnosed, she had no symptoms: NONE WHATSOEVER. They say that cancer is the silent killer, and now I know this to be true.
Sharon was so worried about me. When I assured her that I would be OK, she was at peace and passed to the other side. She fought the fight. Sharon had to battle this cancer with one hand tied behind her back; she never seemed to get any good news once it was diagnosed. The whole time she fought this insidious creature, her main concern was making it as comfortable as possible for everyone else. Her trademark humor (she was a DJ on the radio, Rock 104, WXKE for almost 20 years) intercepted the awkward voids in conversation and she suppressed any "why me" moments. This UNFAIR and AGGRESSIVE disease pushed, and shoved very hard on Sharon and she responded with the passion and heart that we all came to expect from her. In the end, the cancer got it's way, as it generally does. But, I can guarantee you, after the day was done, the Grim Reaper went home battered, sore, completely exhausted, and is today considering a new line of work. It has been said that Sharon was like a leaf in a stream, clinging to a rock and fighting the spring current: once she knew that I and the kids would be OK, she finally let go to discover the treasures that are awaiting her downstream.
I don't have anyone to rib me about my latest mod. Sharon used to refer to my Commander as my "Clown Car" because of all the additions. She never understood the passion involved with making a car unique. This is what I will miss the most - her honesty and living life to the fullest. Godspeed, and thanks for reading.
