Tag Archives: childhood cancer

It hurts, you know.

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It hurts.

It hurts to hear that my friends are suffering.
It hurts to hear that radiation is burning their skin.
It hurts to hear that they are throwing up.
It hurts to hear that their parents cannot comfort them.
It hurts to hear that they are miles away from their little sisters for weeks.
It hurts to see their hair fall out.
Again.
It hurts to watch their tired eyes.
It hurts to watch them shake in weakness.
It hurts to see them not even be able to do their homework.
It hurts to not even be able to communicate the pain.
It hurts to be here, when they are there.
It hurts to hold their hands as another child dies.
Again.
It hurts to come home and cry.
It hurts to realize that hardly anyone sees this.
It hurts to realize that those who do know, obviously don’t care enough.
It hurts to miss them at Christmas.
It hurts to walk into their empty rooms.
It hurts to have another piece empty in my heart.

Childhood cancer, it hurts much more than you know.

Childhood cancer, it hurts, please know.

…because love wins.

Standing

Thank you, Talia.

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Image

I didn’t know you, not in person.
It’s true.
But I knew you, in the heart,
I got you.

You were beautiful.
Not because of the makeup.
But because of the goal.
Because you spoke up.

We fight this beast every day.
It killed you.
It killed them.
When will it be through?

I’m a cancer survivor, sure.
But what is surviving?
Pretty lame if all your friends still die.
We were meant to be striving.

I know you won’t share any more words.
That your family will never get their little girl.
That you would have lived so big.
And that you would have changed the world.

And I know you still will.
Because you’re you.
Because you had kid’s cancer.
Because you walked it through.

But I wish you were here.
I wish your scans were clear.
And I wish we could really meet.
Your momma wishes you were near.

But you’re not.
So we’ll keep on.
We’ll dance.
Watch the stars.

We’ll watch Ellen.
We’ll talk about you.
We’ll stop this beast.
We’ll make lives new.

From MSN News:

“Talia Castellano, a charismatic 13-year-old Florida girl with cancer who inspired people around the world with her online videos about makeup and who became an honorary face of CoverGirl cosmetics, has died.

Talia, who had been fighting neuroblastoma, a type of childhood cancer, for six years, died Tuesday morning with her family by her side.

The passing note was pasted on her official facebook page:

“It is with a heavy heart that we share with all of you that Talia has earned her wings at 11:22 a.m. Please lift her beautiful soul, her beautiful light to heaven and please send your love and prayers to her family during this most difficult time. Godspeed, little one, may you be free from pain and suffering, may your soul feel the light and love that you brought to so many of us on this Earth during the short time you were here with us. We will miss you more than you will ever know, baby girl.”

Talia’s YouTube channel, filled with videos of tutorials about makeup, drew hundreds of thousands of subscribers.

Talia didn’t like wigs to cover her bald head, but she loved wearing makeup.

“It’s really cool to know that people watch me, and that they like me, and they think I’m inspiring,” she told Fox 35 in an interview last year. “Every single comment that I get that says they think I’m inspiring or whatever, it feels so good. It’s really cool.”

Talia had many TV appearances, including one on “The Ellen DeGeneres Show” in September.

DeGeneres, a representative of CoverGirl, made Talia an honorary CoverGirl, complete with her own portrait. Talia was also given a check for $20,000 from the makeup brand and appeared in an ad in People magazine for CoverGirl.

ImageTalia was featured in the documentary movie “The Truth 365,” about kids fighting cancer.

DeGeneres took to Twitter to express her condolences.

“This year I met a very special girl, and today we lost her. Sending my heart to Talia’s family. I’m so sad,” the talk show host tweeted.”

And you can help us end childhood cancer. No one should be just a good story. We should be moms, dads, sisters, grandparents, softball players, professional make-up artists. We shouldn’t be dead.

If you’d like to end childhood cancer with us, please watch this documentary, and “like” TheTruth365 on facebook. You’ll see my story featured there as well.

To all those who help, thank you.

To Talia, thank you.

Let’s stop childhood cancer.

…because love (has to) win.

Dreams do come true.

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ImageShe steps out into the light. The backstage had been a flurry of hundreds of people milling around. 

“Decker, check. Check. Check.” 

In 2 hours, thousands of people will enter this auditorium. They’ll come from all around the country. They’ll be in the middle of a fight with their wife. They’ll wish their children could do better in school. They’ll have an autistic sister. They’ll be sad. They’ll be hopeless. They’ll be happy. They’ll understand life, or they won’t. 

She stops out there. Says a prayer.

“Abba, it’s not me. It’s You. You have them. You be with them. You dream loud, speak loud, do what you do. I’m just so human.” 

She looks down at her leg. Who would have thought that this piece of molded plastic would lead to a headset, singing on stage, jumping up and down, crying in front of people? Well, surely not she. She was just this little girl with doggies on her footy pajamas sitting on the porch talking to her Father. 

And a tear falls. One tear, as she looks down at her mom, dad, and sister. Front row, always catching a tear, a hug, a smile, a reminder of who she is. 

Who is she that she could speak through an amputation and chemo drip? 

She’s just a human. Who has lost much. And who has everything, because of Jesus. 

She’s a girl who watches His dreams for her come true every day. 

…because love wins.

I have depression.

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I have depression.
But I am not depression. 

I am not a foggy thought.
I am not a worried eye.
I am not an aimless tear.
I am not a useless try.
I am not my frustration.
I am not just lazy.
I am not really mean.
I am not crazy.
I am simply me.

I have depression.
But I am not depression.

I overcome each day.
Just to get out of bed.
I wake up and say,
“I’m going to try again.”
I withhold how I feel.
And sort my self from my thoughts.
I try to be who I am.
And even if you don’t understand,
I’ll never see you for what you’re not.

I have depression.
But I am not depression.

I am open, honest, helped.
I am well.
I am stable.
I am understanding.
I am able.
I am strong.
I’ve sought light.
I’ve come to see,
That life doesn’t have to be a fight.

I have depression.
But I am not depression.

I write these things to you,
and you may know what it feels,
or you could turn and walk away.
But there is one thing to know –
whether you have depression or you don’t,
the world around you has depression,
so tell them right now that they’re not alone.

I have depression.
But I am not depression.

A little known fact about me is that my family is riddled with depression. I myself manage it, understand it, and am treated for it each day. I’m writing this honest post to share with those who have depression that you are not alone – there is hope, there is life, there is sanity beyond the fight.

I am well. I have been taken care of. This society that we live in seems to think that those with depression are muted by their medications or should be left alone to cry. But I want to silence that today, because you’ve seen me, and I’m alive.

Who I am is not pretend. I’m just finally me. So do not leave those with mental illness alone. Rather, take a moment, and help them believe.

Most importantly – I am not my depression. I am not hiding, running, fearing. I am free. If you have depression, you don’t have to live this way. Reach out just a little even if you don’t feel you have the strength. Someone will help you until you can walk again.

If you are afraid of depression, ask me about it. Seek to understand. You can no more hide than a penny in a water glass. Be kind – for you yourself may face this one day.

And if you’re taking care of your depression – I am so proud of you. And I’m not the only one.

I’m going to leave you with a video of a little girl with cancer and rotationplasty who I have been blessed to mentor. She is brilliant, and though this dance exemplifies overcoming a physical disability, it  speaks to our mental lives as well.

Back on the stage!

Share this with your friends and family and share your success stories below. And, keep smiling – on and on.

Oh, and, just don’t ever. give. up. One more breath at a time.

…because love wins.