Liam's Story: light, love, & pediatric brain cancer
I want you to know about Liam. A boy who loved his mama, his papa, and the canyon which was the only home he'd ever known - who's smile could light up a room. He loved, and was loved by, so many. If love and courage and fight and grace could have been enough, he'd still be where he belongs.
His parents want people to know about Liam, too. About his spirit, his love, and how proud of him they are. How though cancer took him far too soon, he is still so, so, so loved, and always will be. And they want people to know about childhood cancer - it's devastating effects and how little funding is dedicated to it.
Forty-three children are diagnosed with pediatric cancer everyday. Nine of those children are diagnosed with a brain tumor. And only 4% of federal government cancer research funding goes to study pediatric cancer.
There's no graceful way to finish this post. It's a story that is far too common, but that doesn't have anything even close to a tidy ending. Last night his parents told me that these photographs helped them find a small sense of beauty in his death. That they were proud of him, and loved him, and wanted his story to be shared.
This is only one small part of Liam's story - moments from the final month of his life. He and his mama and papa are so much more than just these final moments, but they also represent the best of their family: the love, light, and life they gave him and continue giving to each other.
And if you're so inspired, please consider making a donation to the National Pediatric Cancer Foundation in his name: https://nationalpcf.org/donate/