Jack’s Promise

I am not sure of my purpose for this blog. If you go to the website, I have clearly stated my purpose on the blog page: to speak of grief, advocacy, and awareness. But why write about something so private and leave it for all to see and read? I don’t know. I am not sure if I feel this calling (to write) for me, for Jack, or for the rest of you who read this.

When Jack was first diagnosed in 2022, I wanted to reach friends and family who did not have Facebook and be able to inform them of Jack’s progress. I had no idea how many people I would reach or how much love we would feel from those CaringBridge posts. The outpouring of love, thoughts, and prayers provided so much comfort to my family. It felt like a warm blanket when the world felt cold and dark. If you followed me then and are reading this now, we are doing okay.

Am I writing to stay connected to Jack? 100%. Enough said. I could write pages about holding on to my connection to Jack. And give me enough time, I will. I miss that smile, those eyes, that humor every day. I have multiple conversations with him that are mostly one-sided. If you stay with me long enough, I will show you how Jack gives me signs he is always with me. It took a while for me to believe it, but then I started taking pictures as proof. Our angels are with us always.

Finally, am I writing for me? Probably. So many thoughts run through my head every day. In those days that followed when Jack gained his angel wings, I was in shock. Even though Jack’s doctors repeatedly told me the treatments were taking a toll on Jack’s body, that five-year survival didn’t look good, and even after they told me he wouldn’t make it till the end of the year, I didn’t want to believe them, even when I knew it was true.

In June of 2025, I started to run three to four times a week. I knew then that a year later, life would be monumentally different—either way. The rock band Shinedown has a song, “Three Six Five”; every line in that song resonated with me, all except “maybe I didn’t care enough.” If you have heard the song, listen again. The song is about being with someone whose body is failing them. That’s what happened to my Jack. His body couldn’t keep up the fight, but his mind wanted to. My boy taught me what strength, perseverance, and bravery look like.

That’s how I get up every day. I don’t want to. The world can be a dark place where accidents happen, evil happens, cancer happens. But if you open your heart and mind, there is so much beauty in Mother Nature, in the generosity of people, and in the power of animals (how could I make my first post and not mention Enzo?). I want to showcase how I see the world now.

This blog is about my journey through grief, advocacy, and awareness. J and Coop’s thoughts may come across when I use the word “we.” It’s natural. Jason, Cooper, and Jack are my world. But I don’t want you, as the reader, to assume that all my thoughts are theirs. We knew Jack inside and out, but he still held on to thoughts of his own. He really was wise beyond his years.

Jack did not want us to be sad. Well, too bad, Jack. However, just like in those final months in the hospital or at home, we still tried to find a way to smile. Because when I smile, I see Jack smiling down on me.