I look at the ’21’ on my shirt sleeve. Then at my young adult son. Having gone through three miscarriages, I can’t compare the loss of a child held and seen for years to the idea of an baby dead before birth. I can’t imagine losing one of my children, thirty-something to the barely adult, or a younger child. It is beyond my experience.
Then it clicks. That devastation that I can’t comprehend, it led them to this – a fundraiser for research to prevent another parent from walking in their shoes. This is the battle they still fight, along side parents bearing this burden.
Would I be so strong? Could I find solace in something so selfless? I don’t know for sure; hope so. But. Probably not. While up to now I don’t know anything about this, other than running for a good cause, I hope and pray no other child or parent has to experience the loss.
If every step taken tomorrow could stomp out cancer instead of slapping the pavement, no one would know the twisted theft of life cancer takes. If every foot pounding the pavement could kill a cancer cell, who could ever stop at three miles?