TOLEDO, Ohio — Every year, the Susan G. Komen Northwest Ohio Race for the Cure honors the brave women who lost their lives to breast cancer.
This year's race is in memory of Debbie Franceus, a woman who during her life reached new heights and is helping other women do the same even after her death.
"Debbie was just a total amazing gal," Debbie's husband, Mike Franceus said. "Rugged and glamour in the same package. You could put a fishing pole in her hand, you could take her hiking, you could take her hunting."
Not a day goes by that Mike doesn't look to the sky and think of his wife of 44 years.
"I see her, no question about it," he said.
Some of their best moments were spent up there, with Mike piloting their plane and Debbie sitting next to him as his co-pilot.
"She'd say, 'Let's go fly.' She flew in the right seat with me for over 1,000 hours over the years," Mike said.
With a career as a nurse and caring for their three kids, Debbie was on the ground a little more than Mike back in those days, but eventually, she too got her aviation license.
"She was biting at the bit to say, 'Hey, get out of the airplane, let me do this because I've been watching you do this for 44 years,'" Mike said. "Getting your license is not a walk in the park. Flying an airplane, you know, takes precision."
Their plan was to take to the sky as much as possible in their retirement, seeing the country and dropping in on grandkids together.
But that wasn't in the stars for Debbie.
Just two months after retiring from ProMedica, in March of 2022, Debbie was diagnosed with the very aggressive triple-negative breast cancer.
"She got kind of defiant about it. She said, 'I'm taking my sister and we're going on a cruise,' and I'm going, 'You're not going anywhere.' She says, 'Oh yeah, I am.'"
Debbie returned to tests, MRIs, chemotherapy and radiation. That year, "Team Debbie" held the Race for the Cure at their beloved airport.
"The owner of the airport was gracious and said, 'Hey do your Komen walk at the airport,' so we emptied out an airplane hangar and we set up tables and chairs and food and we did our Race for the Cure up and down the runway," Mike said.
At Christmas three months later, it became clear to Mike and the kids that Debbie would not get better, but her death just weeks later came as a shock.
"If I showed you the text on the day that she passed on Jan. 12, it was, 'Hey, bring me three extra pairs of PJs, the one with the palm trees and the little doggies on them. I don't know how much longer I'll be in here,' That was at 6:30 on the 12th," Mike said. "She ended up dying at 4:00 that afternoon."
The way Debbie left the Earth that day was the way she lived, with Mike by her side guiding their way.
"She said, 'What should I do?'"
"I said, 'I think you should go be with God.' That's what I said. Then she pointed at her port and they came right over and they administered, a syringe of morphine into her and she closed her eyes, and I took the cannula off of her face and she looked beautiful and within a minute, took her last breath," Mike said.
Once again, it was time for Debbie to soar on her own.
Mike ran the Race for the Cure last year in Debbie's pink wig and they both empower women with a love for flying in her name with a foundation and scholarship, called The Debbie Franceus Memorial Aviation Foundation.
"She would be thrilled because that was her mission," Franceus said. "Her mission was to get more women flying."
And now, the Race for the Cure is in memory of his co-pilot.
"She's saying, 'I can't believe you're doing all this in my honor, number one. I'm mad at you over that because I'm not as great as you're making me look.' And I would say to her, 'You know, you're way wrong. You are that great. You didn't even realize it. And I get the opportunity now to bring your greatness to the world.'"
