02/15/2026
Since my mom passed in December, everything feels different.
Time. Goals. Life. Legacy.
I keep asking myself, when people say my name one day, what will they say?
Was I just a patient?
In spite of this disease, I built things that mattered.
I wrote words that reached beyond my body.
I advocated when it would’ve been easier to disappear.
I sat at tables where decisions were made and made sure our voices were there.
I led change.
I raised my child with strength and softness intertwined.
I showed up even when my heart and body were tired.
I turned setbacks into strategy.
Grief into gasoline.
Pain into purpose.
In spite of progression.
In spite of loss.
In spite of fear.
I did not live small.
So if they remember me as “just a patient,”
I hope they understand what that really means.
It means I lived it.
I carried it.
And I still changed things anyway.
