I was admitted to the hospital for three nights, and everything went well. I couldn’t ask for better caregivers than my husband and son. The maturity Brooklyn showed was amazing—he’s experienced far more caregiving than most of your typical teenagers would. I sometimes wish he hadn’t had to, but I guess, God matches you with a family that complements you. I am weak, they’re strong. I love you Lord, for thinking of me extra, this way.

• As a toddler, my son was pure sunshine — always laughing, always singing. He even wrote his own song, “Planet Boi” when he was little. Perhaps in Prep or 1st Grade? That little burst of creativity told me early on who he was: a boy who makes joy out of nothing.
• Somewhere along the way, that same boy learned what it means to help. It started small — taking out the trash with his father — and grew into washing dishes, vacuuming, showing up without being asked. His helpfulness, especially toward me, has become one of the quiet ways he says I love you.
• I watched him cross the bridge from seventh grade into eighth, and something in him shifted — he became his own person. I love that he holds himself to a standard, that a disappointing grade stings a little, because it tells me he cares about becoming who he wants to be.
• He doesn’t fully understand what’s making me sick all the time. But he always says, “I wish you weren’t sick, mom.” He feels deeply, more than most boys his age. And I think being honest with him, rather than shielding him, has quietly prepared his heart for whatever comes.
• He knows our time together isn’t unlimited — and instead of looking away from that, he leans in. He treasures it. That kind of awareness, at his age, breaks my heart and fills it at the same time.
• He is smart, tender-hearted, and still kisses me freely, without embarrassment, without being asked. I hope he never grows out of it. I hope he stays a boy who isn’t afraid to love out loud.
• He loves his friends the way he loves everyone — generously, without keeping score. If he has something, he shares it. That’s just who he is.
• He respects me, and he respects his father — even in the moments he and his dad don’t quite understand each other. That he can hold love and disagreement at the same time, at his age, is a kind of maturity I didn’t expect this soon, and I’m so proud of it.
• My son adores my sisters, and it comforts me endlessly. Even as an only child, he will never truly be alone — my younger sister is his second mother, my youngest sister is somewhere between sister and cousin to him, and he enjoys this kind of relationship with them. He loves his aunts and uncles on his father’s side too, though my husband, being more reserved, hasn’t drawn them as close into our circle as I have mine. Still, love finds its way to him from every direction.
• Our parents adore him, and he adores them right back. I pray — I truly pray — that time stretches longer for all of us. I know this life was never ours to keep, only to borrow, and it was never meant simply for our own enjoyment. But Lord, if you would grant us just a little more time together than what the doctors and the studies say — I would take every extra day as a gift.