Excerpt from an older entry:
Blue...mentioned that he had a problem with normal. (?!) As in what? I asked him. He said I struggle to decide if normal is where I want to be, putting all my eggs in the everyone else basket or if it's better I'm myself because you love me the way I am. You love me all the time and if you love me, why would I want to be normal?
Monday, April 18, 2011
With age
With age comes:
Freedom to laugh at myself
The ability to enjoy dancing at WinterJam with my husband on one side of me and my youngest teen scrambling to get away from me in abject horror
Enjoyment in friendship, in keeping up with the friends that make my heart sing, in recognizing the value of true friends
Wisdom to recognize the users and not give them that permission
To own who I am, where I am and how I am, not taking ownership or responsibility for anyone else
That I don't own anyone the "right" to make me feel inferior...and they won't
Appreciation in recognizing where I was, where I am now and the ability to appreciate the road traveled between the two
Beauty of Stillness, not to be confused with laziness or slothing around.
Knowing that drama doesn't have to be mine, that I can't fix the worlds' problems
I can say no...and stand by it. No explanations needed, no is enough.
IF...I can help another soul on thier lifepath, I will. If I can't, I won't feel like I've let the world down
I don't have to overextend myself, I can gradually cut out all of the extra and focus on what truly matters to me
Believe in myself and who I am now...Tonya, Child of God, Wife, Mom of 3 bios & 3 in my heart, Daughter to awesome parentals, Advocate, Damn good Moma, Domestic Goddess, Taxi Service all-in-one inclusive service, Friend, Partner in crime, Dreamer, Hippy Chick, Open-minded, Full of laughter, Reader of books and people, Music guru and maker of the best lasagna soup on D'Vallee Casa
As shadows lengthen in my life's journey, I know that I'm exactly where I am supposed to be.
And I'm truly happy.
Freedom to laugh at myself
The ability to enjoy dancing at WinterJam with my husband on one side of me and my youngest teen scrambling to get away from me in abject horror
Enjoyment in friendship, in keeping up with the friends that make my heart sing, in recognizing the value of true friends
Wisdom to recognize the users and not give them that permission
To own who I am, where I am and how I am, not taking ownership or responsibility for anyone else
That I don't own anyone the "right" to make me feel inferior...and they won't
Appreciation in recognizing where I was, where I am now and the ability to appreciate the road traveled between the two
Beauty of Stillness, not to be confused with laziness or slothing around.
Knowing that drama doesn't have to be mine, that I can't fix the worlds' problems
I can say no...and stand by it. No explanations needed, no is enough.
IF...I can help another soul on thier lifepath, I will. If I can't, I won't feel like I've let the world down
I don't have to overextend myself, I can gradually cut out all of the extra and focus on what truly matters to me
Believe in myself and who I am now...Tonya, Child of God, Wife, Mom of 3 bios & 3 in my heart, Daughter to awesome parentals, Advocate, Damn good Moma, Domestic Goddess, Taxi Service all-in-one inclusive service, Friend, Partner in crime, Dreamer, Hippy Chick, Open-minded, Full of laughter, Reader of books and people, Music guru and maker of the best lasagna soup on D'Vallee Casa
As shadows lengthen in my life's journey, I know that I'm exactly where I am supposed to be.
And I'm truly happy.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Mom, Why?
Mom, why do people think I'm weird?!
Why does no one want to play with me?
Why do have to feel like I've got to buy someone to have them play with me?
Why am I not invited to stay over with anyone?
Why can I not stay the night with my family?
Why do I feel better with you, but when I go to Dad's, I feel good with him, too?
Why do people say one thing & do something else?
Why are you the only one that will never lie to me?
Because they are scared that you might be smart, funny, bright, different from them.
I'm not sure, maybe we can work on that?
Maybe they are the ones that need help making friends-you know how scary that feels, don't you?
I'm not sure?
It's okay to feel good about being with your Dad & about being with me. It means you are safe & loved with both of us.
Alot of people are uncomfortable with people that make them look outside thier comfort zones. They aren't sure how to act, if it's okay to accept, what to do with the realization that we are all a little different in our own way.
Because if you can't say what you mean to say and stand by it no matter who is standing near or far away, your word is nothing.
(Yes, that's the sound of cracking you hear. My heart aches
because my son sees far more than he is given credit for, his tears ripping me apart)
(Dear Blue, You are a bright, shining star. Differences make you who you are...the funny, good, outside looking in humor, the laughter that bubbles out and yes...even the meltdowns that are fewer and further between. The snuggly hugs that I get @ breakfast make me feel like a million dollars. The way you get into the Star Wars Triology that we've been watching tickles me more than words can say because we share that love. The way you take care of little people (the three foot and under kids) makes me glow with happiness, your empathy and tenderness shining through, you being thier champ, "that big kid, Elijah", make my heart smile in the silence when tears fall and I can't make up the pain for you, the imminent frustrations, the heart-stopping sadness, the struggle to fit in with other kids.
I wish I could teach you that being you, the Elijahblue that you are, is enough.
Be you, Blue. Shine your light.
Love you to the moon and back,
Mom)
Why does no one want to play with me?
Why do have to feel like I've got to buy someone to have them play with me?
Why am I not invited to stay over with anyone?
Why can I not stay the night with my family?
Why do I feel better with you, but when I go to Dad's, I feel good with him, too?
Why do people say one thing & do something else?
Why are you the only one that will never lie to me?
Because they are scared that you might be smart, funny, bright, different from them.
I'm not sure, maybe we can work on that?
Maybe they are the ones that need help making friends-you know how scary that feels, don't you?
I'm not sure?
It's okay to feel good about being with your Dad & about being with me. It means you are safe & loved with both of us.
Alot of people are uncomfortable with people that make them look outside thier comfort zones. They aren't sure how to act, if it's okay to accept, what to do with the realization that we are all a little different in our own way.
Because if you can't say what you mean to say and stand by it no matter who is standing near or far away, your word is nothing.
(Yes, that's the sound of cracking you hear. My heart aches
because my son sees far more than he is given credit for, his tears ripping me apart)
(Dear Blue, You are a bright, shining star. Differences make you who you are...the funny, good, outside looking in humor, the laughter that bubbles out and yes...even the meltdowns that are fewer and further between. The snuggly hugs that I get @ breakfast make me feel like a million dollars. The way you get into the Star Wars Triology that we've been watching tickles me more than words can say because we share that love. The way you take care of little people (the three foot and under kids) makes me glow with happiness, your empathy and tenderness shining through, you being thier champ, "that big kid, Elijah", make my heart smile in the silence when tears fall and I can't make up the pain for you, the imminent frustrations, the heart-stopping sadness, the struggle to fit in with other kids.
I wish I could teach you that being you, the Elijahblue that you are, is enough.
Be you, Blue. Shine your light.
Love you to the moon and back,
Mom)
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Moving right along
Some of my youngest memories are of going across country to California with a car full of Garners, stopping at the Royal Gorge, looking forever down as people drove by us on the bridge, driving over the Foresthill Bridge, the road winding around the mountain, steadily gaining elevation as that homecoming feeling washed over me...sometimes just being in a place brings a feeling of peace.
As far back as I can remember, I've thought in cars and music.
I recall living in Russellville with a red VW van, curtains in the windows, blue with ships on them-bed in the back in place of the back couple rows of seats. Dad and Mom would throw a bag in the van for all of us and we'd take off driving. Wherever we'd end up that night, we'd stay.
Is it any wonder Dan & I have the traveling bug? :)
A different trip headed to California rolling to sleep to Mom & GranG's voices as Gran rocked Dan in her carrier seat in the Chevy Chevette...bags packed to the roof as we trundled across country. Yet another trip as Mom, Gran, Dan & I traveled across country in the extended cab red Chevy, camper shell on the back with a piece of plywood across the back held down by the camper so we could sleep. I'd look to the front seat and see Gran with Kleenex stuck in her ears, laughter bubbling over...or look behind me to the back seat where she'd have Kleenex stuck in her nose...Yeeeeeee would echo off the cab of the truck.
On the above trip, we finally wore Mom and Dan (our family's true compasses) down and as I got behind the wheel in six lane traffic in Salt Lake City, Mom's last words were follow the map, pull over if you get lost....Gran and I readily agreed and proceeded to get into traffic neck deep. As traffic flew past us with me driving 75 and 85, it was join the herd or be moved down. There was no move over bacon, there was only the sound of mine and Gran's skin sizzling on the six lane freeway of life.
Another legend was born.
Today, it began anew.
We ate breakfast, grabbed drinks for everyone and headed out. Where are we going? North. How long? Until we stop. Are we going to a certain destination or what? Yes. :) After bickering a few miles, we settled in to smoother sailing. As the miles progressed, we relaxed, talking, singing, tickling, picture taking, making memories that I hope they'll treasure when they look back. As we neared Queen Wilhelmina, starvation set in. We sat on top of the mountain eating, a family made of love, strength and memories in the making.
Maybe someday when they are grown, they'll look back to memories of road trips, laughter, music, (Mom, please turn it to 97.5---again, Trevor? That's all you EVER want to listen to---Yes, Elijah, again) and family.
Until next time...
As far back as I can remember, I've thought in cars and music.
I recall living in Russellville with a red VW van, curtains in the windows, blue with ships on them-bed in the back in place of the back couple rows of seats. Dad and Mom would throw a bag in the van for all of us and we'd take off driving. Wherever we'd end up that night, we'd stay.
Is it any wonder Dan & I have the traveling bug? :)
A different trip headed to California rolling to sleep to Mom & GranG's voices as Gran rocked Dan in her carrier seat in the Chevy Chevette...bags packed to the roof as we trundled across country. Yet another trip as Mom, Gran, Dan & I traveled across country in the extended cab red Chevy, camper shell on the back with a piece of plywood across the back held down by the camper so we could sleep. I'd look to the front seat and see Gran with Kleenex stuck in her ears, laughter bubbling over...or look behind me to the back seat where she'd have Kleenex stuck in her nose...Yeeeeeee would echo off the cab of the truck.
On the above trip, we finally wore Mom and Dan (our family's true compasses) down and as I got behind the wheel in six lane traffic in Salt Lake City, Mom's last words were follow the map, pull over if you get lost....Gran and I readily agreed and proceeded to get into traffic neck deep. As traffic flew past us with me driving 75 and 85, it was join the herd or be moved down. There was no move over bacon, there was only the sound of mine and Gran's skin sizzling on the six lane freeway of life.
Another legend was born.
Today, it began anew.
We ate breakfast, grabbed drinks for everyone and headed out. Where are we going? North. How long? Until we stop. Are we going to a certain destination or what? Yes. :) After bickering a few miles, we settled in to smoother sailing. As the miles progressed, we relaxed, talking, singing, tickling, picture taking, making memories that I hope they'll treasure when they look back. As we neared Queen Wilhelmina, starvation set in. We sat on top of the mountain eating, a family made of love, strength and memories in the making.
Maybe someday when they are grown, they'll look back to memories of road trips, laughter, music, (Mom, please turn it to 97.5---again, Trevor? That's all you EVER want to listen to---Yes, Elijah, again) and family.
Until next time...
You don't look very Autistic
You don’t look very autistic - the case for autistic empathy
With no look of apology or shame, I make my way to what others perceive as the front of the queue and wonder at the intolerance of those who grumble at me. Without the slightest embarrassment I talk over customers speaking with the cashier and ask for directions to what I’m looking for and when I’m told off, I’m shocked at the rudeness of people. I will seize on a part of what someone has said and seemingly ignore what really matters. I will say what is logical with complete disregard for the feelings of others and will merrily chatter on topics which clearly relate to their pain with no thought for how insensitive I’m being. With no thought for the care of merchandise or people’s belongings, I have helped myself to furniture and hoisted myself onto shelves to reach something I have been told I can use and am confused as to why anyone would then be annoyed at me that I didn’t wait or ask for help. I will say hello to a neighbor coming out of her house then ignore her as she passes me in a car or down the street. I will push someone out of my way when busy doing something. Clearly I’m a bad and selfish person completely lacking in empathy?
Think again.
I have autism. Some of you will feel that proves your point, that I’m selfish, rude, lack empathy or consideration for others.
I’m also someone who cares deeply about the world, about inequality, injustice and am often the first person to help anyone who is lost, hurt, crying or in trouble. When I do, I’m not heart on my sleeve but purely practical, often if I don’t start joking about whilst doing so (because people’s feelings make me nervous) I’m rather po-faced and its very difficult to know what I feel. But what I feel is empathy, a deep caring, a feeling of wanting to make their lot easier, that life is hard enough.
So what of these other things? If I’m so empathic why do I do these seemingly rude, intolerant, unempathic things.
I’m intermittently meaning deaf and meaning blind, also context blind, face blind and lack a capacity to process a simultaneous sense of ’self’ and ‘other’. What does this mean for everyday life, for communication and interaction.
Well, aside from being told ‘you don’t look very autistic’, being meaning deaf means that I will only understand parts of what I hear. Even then I will be utterly literal and effectively ‘meaning deaf’ to any deeper level of significance not only in what other people say, but in my own speech. I am speaking on an extremely literal level. Given I didn’t get even the literal meaning of sentences till late childhood this isn’t my failing. It’s my achievement. And its an achievement that gets so many nasty looks, nasty comments, nasty judgment from others in the community, that I tend to avoid most involvement, certainly with anyone new.
Being meaning blind means that I don’t recognise what I see until a second or so after I see it. Sometimes not until I touch it or move it. Once I move an object I know what it is. This is especially so if things aren’t in places that assist their recognition. So its like being blind, meaning blind. And context blindness is related. It means that I can’t process the part in the wider context of the whole. I can’t tell which end is the right part of the queue to join. Sometimes I’ll join any group of three people thinking its a queue and its not. I see things but don’t know what they are or how they might impact on each other. So I may go after the thing I recognise or which has been pointed out to me without realising that the things I’m climbing on are people’s furniture or that I’m moving around their valued objects. All I’m seeing are shapes and colors. And that brings us to face blindness. I can recognise a neighbor who is leaving their house, but outside of their context, they are strangers, almost everyone is. If I know where I’m to find someone, I can recognise them, otherwise I appear to snub people because I’m afraid of these seeming strangers who grin at me and wave, some even use my name and I’ve never seen them before in my life.
And then there’s inability to process a simultaneous sense of self and other. This one means that whilst in the midst of an action (self) I can’t process the meaning of things, people, interactions around me. People may be speaking but I hear noise and see mouths moving but don’t know they are speaking. I see a big moving thing in my way which won’t move but don’t realise its a human with feelings. I get annoyed at all kinds of obstacles and find ways around them and without an ability to process self and other when in the midst of an action, there is not capacity to even imagine or consider asking for help because perceptually, at that time, no other human exists. I also notice others. I notice them acutely, passionately. I study them. I love people. They fascinate me. But when they speak to me or offer me something they sometimes get no response. That’s when I can find them, but I can’t process my own existance at that time. How much less selfish can a human being get.
Non-autistic humans generally imagine they have empathy. They are subjective and have enough fluent capacity to simultaneously process self and other that they would perhaps rarely see other people in their pure form, without bias, as perhaps only God might see them. Some of these supposedly empathic non-autistic people tutt at me, they attack me, they study me, they quiz me, they wait for me to ‘trust’ them enough to ask for help before doing things, doing anything. They rush me, they watch me, they attribute my processing and perceptual disorders to character faults and then seek to help me learn to ‘get over them’, help me gain ‘insight’ into my lack of empathy. I look into their searching eyes, then look away, because I see only their selfishness and can see they can’t actually see me. Their minds are in the way.
Then I go home, slightly more lonely and alienated, dust myself off for another day and determine to not be scared and to continue to love them. I look in the mirror and their words ring in my ears ‘you don’t look very autistic’.
by Donna Williams
autistic author, artist, screenwriter
http://www.donnawilliams.net/
With no look of apology or shame, I make my way to what others perceive as the front of the queue and wonder at the intolerance of those who grumble at me. Without the slightest embarrassment I talk over customers speaking with the cashier and ask for directions to what I’m looking for and when I’m told off, I’m shocked at the rudeness of people. I will seize on a part of what someone has said and seemingly ignore what really matters. I will say what is logical with complete disregard for the feelings of others and will merrily chatter on topics which clearly relate to their pain with no thought for how insensitive I’m being. With no thought for the care of merchandise or people’s belongings, I have helped myself to furniture and hoisted myself onto shelves to reach something I have been told I can use and am confused as to why anyone would then be annoyed at me that I didn’t wait or ask for help. I will say hello to a neighbor coming out of her house then ignore her as she passes me in a car or down the street. I will push someone out of my way when busy doing something. Clearly I’m a bad and selfish person completely lacking in empathy?
Think again.
I have autism. Some of you will feel that proves your point, that I’m selfish, rude, lack empathy or consideration for others.
I’m also someone who cares deeply about the world, about inequality, injustice and am often the first person to help anyone who is lost, hurt, crying or in trouble. When I do, I’m not heart on my sleeve but purely practical, often if I don’t start joking about whilst doing so (because people’s feelings make me nervous) I’m rather po-faced and its very difficult to know what I feel. But what I feel is empathy, a deep caring, a feeling of wanting to make their lot easier, that life is hard enough.
So what of these other things? If I’m so empathic why do I do these seemingly rude, intolerant, unempathic things.
I’m intermittently meaning deaf and meaning blind, also context blind, face blind and lack a capacity to process a simultaneous sense of ’self’ and ‘other’. What does this mean for everyday life, for communication and interaction.
Well, aside from being told ‘you don’t look very autistic’, being meaning deaf means that I will only understand parts of what I hear. Even then I will be utterly literal and effectively ‘meaning deaf’ to any deeper level of significance not only in what other people say, but in my own speech. I am speaking on an extremely literal level. Given I didn’t get even the literal meaning of sentences till late childhood this isn’t my failing. It’s my achievement. And its an achievement that gets so many nasty looks, nasty comments, nasty judgment from others in the community, that I tend to avoid most involvement, certainly with anyone new.
Being meaning blind means that I don’t recognise what I see until a second or so after I see it. Sometimes not until I touch it or move it. Once I move an object I know what it is. This is especially so if things aren’t in places that assist their recognition. So its like being blind, meaning blind. And context blindness is related. It means that I can’t process the part in the wider context of the whole. I can’t tell which end is the right part of the queue to join. Sometimes I’ll join any group of three people thinking its a queue and its not. I see things but don’t know what they are or how they might impact on each other. So I may go after the thing I recognise or which has been pointed out to me without realising that the things I’m climbing on are people’s furniture or that I’m moving around their valued objects. All I’m seeing are shapes and colors. And that brings us to face blindness. I can recognise a neighbor who is leaving their house, but outside of their context, they are strangers, almost everyone is. If I know where I’m to find someone, I can recognise them, otherwise I appear to snub people because I’m afraid of these seeming strangers who grin at me and wave, some even use my name and I’ve never seen them before in my life.
And then there’s inability to process a simultaneous sense of self and other. This one means that whilst in the midst of an action (self) I can’t process the meaning of things, people, interactions around me. People may be speaking but I hear noise and see mouths moving but don’t know they are speaking. I see a big moving thing in my way which won’t move but don’t realise its a human with feelings. I get annoyed at all kinds of obstacles and find ways around them and without an ability to process self and other when in the midst of an action, there is not capacity to even imagine or consider asking for help because perceptually, at that time, no other human exists. I also notice others. I notice them acutely, passionately. I study them. I love people. They fascinate me. But when they speak to me or offer me something they sometimes get no response. That’s when I can find them, but I can’t process my own existance at that time. How much less selfish can a human being get.
Non-autistic humans generally imagine they have empathy. They are subjective and have enough fluent capacity to simultaneously process self and other that they would perhaps rarely see other people in their pure form, without bias, as perhaps only God might see them. Some of these supposedly empathic non-autistic people tutt at me, they attack me, they study me, they quiz me, they wait for me to ‘trust’ them enough to ask for help before doing things, doing anything. They rush me, they watch me, they attribute my processing and perceptual disorders to character faults and then seek to help me learn to ‘get over them’, help me gain ‘insight’ into my lack of empathy. I look into their searching eyes, then look away, because I see only their selfishness and can see they can’t actually see me. Their minds are in the way.
Then I go home, slightly more lonely and alienated, dust myself off for another day and determine to not be scared and to continue to love them. I look in the mirror and their words ring in my ears ‘you don’t look very autistic’.
by Donna Williams
autistic author, artist, screenwriter
http://www.donnawilliams.net/
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
God's Going To Do Great Things...I Already Know...
Dear Daddy,
I can't tell you how I count my blessings daily when I get a phone call or early morning hey babe! love you! text from you. We came so close to losing you & still...we all flinched at the prospect of waking up and not seeing your smiling face or hearing you say let me give you some class, babe...as you play some more Zimmy.
We are doing the Relay For Life, May 13/14th in Glenwood in your honor.
Team Snoopy was the name YOU choose.
The heart & soul of our team were created from the pure love and dedication to your three girls, your determination to take care of Moma along with your desire to watch every sport your grandboys & grandgirls play for many games to come.
You are here.
We are walking in your honor, coming together with friends and family to celebrate your life, remember the many lives that cancer has crossed and celebrate the family members and friends that fought the good fight.
I love you, Daddy.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Team Snoopy
Today, my breath was torn from me by the soul crushing, gasping dry sobs that rip me into shreads in equal levels of fear, anger, frustration, determination, love, faith and complete and total support.
Tonight, it felt good to be alive. It felt good to be sitting at a table with people that knew exactly what the battle with cancer was about, the sundown, the darkness, the early morning silence...as well as the promise of conquering the unknown in dawn's early light.
Tonight, I looked across the room, hearing different people's stories of how thier lives were affected, but these were not "just" stories. These were people's souls, thier very breath carrying throughout, voices stilled, yet heard, pain felt and shared in mutual love.
Tonight, I sat near my father and sister, both battling the cancer demon and thoughts thereof. I listened to my dad as he spoke of his battle, his support system of his three girls...Dan, Ton & Sharon and listened as he said that today was his last day of radiation...while holding back sobs for Jenifer, Courtney and Shanna as their hearts quietly, bravely shattered in the silence.
Tonight, Dad and I talked on the way home from the Relay For Life Meeting. His decision to name us Team Snoopy brought to mind a million memories...
Memories of a three year old blonde keed listening to Sony headphones as her dad said let me give you some class, babe-this is Led Zepplin...
As a three year old brown haired girl danced around the same living room with the same pair of headphones on listening to ...you guessed it...Led Zepplin.
The huge superstar reception he always got when he'd come home off the road,
The pictures hanging on the walls of his domicile when he was working construction,
The tea parties where we all wore suits and ties...or something simliar...
The Royal Order of Snoopus clandestine meetings,
Taking both his girls to see Motley Crue & Whitesnake in Shreveport,
Slow dancing with his Babe in the living room,
Laughing at the rear bumper of the truck as he said the camcorder isn't on, babe...
We'll pray hard enough to run off the devil, we'll prepare hard enough to scare off the cancer, to stand together to support Dad, Danielle, the people that have lost loved ones before us and the
people that will rejoice in a cure after us.
And in the end, we will know that we have celebrated life, love, our support system and a family's love, whether by friendship or by blood.
Until then,
Pray together,
Love one another,
Support us all
and
Celebrate life.
Team Snoopy.
Tonight, it felt good to be alive. It felt good to be sitting at a table with people that knew exactly what the battle with cancer was about, the sundown, the darkness, the early morning silence...as well as the promise of conquering the unknown in dawn's early light.
Tonight, I looked across the room, hearing different people's stories of how thier lives were affected, but these were not "just" stories. These were people's souls, thier very breath carrying throughout, voices stilled, yet heard, pain felt and shared in mutual love.
Tonight, I sat near my father and sister, both battling the cancer demon and thoughts thereof. I listened to my dad as he spoke of his battle, his support system of his three girls...Dan, Ton & Sharon and listened as he said that today was his last day of radiation...while holding back sobs for Jenifer, Courtney and Shanna as their hearts quietly, bravely shattered in the silence.
Tonight, Dad and I talked on the way home from the Relay For Life Meeting. His decision to name us Team Snoopy brought to mind a million memories...
Memories of a three year old blonde keed listening to Sony headphones as her dad said let me give you some class, babe-this is Led Zepplin...
As a three year old brown haired girl danced around the same living room with the same pair of headphones on listening to ...you guessed it...Led Zepplin.
The huge superstar reception he always got when he'd come home off the road,
The pictures hanging on the walls of his domicile when he was working construction,
The tea parties where we all wore suits and ties...or something simliar...
The Royal Order of Snoopus clandestine meetings,
Taking both his girls to see Motley Crue & Whitesnake in Shreveport,
Slow dancing with his Babe in the living room,
Laughing at the rear bumper of the truck as he said the camcorder isn't on, babe...
We'll pray hard enough to run off the devil, we'll prepare hard enough to scare off the cancer, to stand together to support Dad, Danielle, the people that have lost loved ones before us and the
people that will rejoice in a cure after us.
And in the end, we will know that we have celebrated life, love, our support system and a family's love, whether by friendship or by blood.
Until then,
Pray together,
Love one another,
Support us all
and
Celebrate life.
Team Snoopy.
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