Ronan,
It seems natural to me to write to you, maybe because that’s
the way I met you – through your mama’s beautiful letters. Today - September 7th-
marks 365 days since we were first introduced. Exactly one year ago, I was
sitting in front of the TV watching the Stand Up To Cancer telethon. Exactly
one year ago, I watched Taylor Swift take the stage to sing the song she had
written for you. And exactly one year ago, I looked into a pair of old-soul
blue eyes, your eyes, and felt as if I had known you forever. That feeling led
me to a blog you know well—rockstarronan.com—where I read every post, every
word that your mama had written to you and for you, over the course of your journey
together. In reading your mama’s blog, I
felt that my world had shifted in a way that I couldn't completely describe – I
felt that I had no idea where I was going and was exactly where I was supposed
to be at the same time. This experience
is what I refer to now as a “line in the sand moment,” one of those rare, life-defining
moments that makes you realize that life as you know it no longer exists. I’m
sure you know better than anyone what that feels like.
After that line in the sand moment, my emotions were jumbled—I
felt meeting you had given me new purpose, but was unsure of where that purpose
would lead. Searching for clarity, I went back to your mama’s blog and read the
entries she had written after your death. They were drenched with raw, unfiltered
emotion—anger, grief, confusion, a soul-wrenching mother love—and an incredible
honesty, the kind that is only born from desperation. In reading her recent entries, I saw her
struggling with the devastation of losing you, seeking purpose in the midst of an
unimaginable loss, and trusting in your connection with her to lead her in the
right direction. If she, a grieving mama who had suffered so much, could find
the strength to make a difference for you, I knew that I could too.
In the year since meeting you, Ronan, many things have
changed. I have learned that life is too short to love half-heartedly, to live
only for yourself, or to listen to people who tell you that your dreams are too
big. But in this world where so much has
changed for me, I still believe that everyone comes into our lives for a
reason, Ro. All of the courageous kids I’ve met, all of their families, all of
the beautiful Ro Lovies out there, all of the kickass people determined to find
a cure for this bastard called childhood cancer, there’s a reason why I’ve been
lucky enough to have them enter my world.
And you know what, Ro? You’re that reason. I have you to thank. You’re
the one who helped your courageous mama to write those deeply honest words,
words that moved a girl named Taylor to write the song that introduced me to
you. You’re the one who helped me to recognize a purpose beyond myself. You’re
the one who reminds me to stay grounded, and hopeful, and forever fighting for
a cure for kids like you. So, when people ask me why I won’t stop until there’s
a cure, I will tell them you’re the reason. With blurry eyes and a determined
heart, I’ll explain to them how my life changed in a year. A year with Ronan.
September is pediatric cancer awareness month. If you’re
inspired by Ronan’s story, please download “Ronan” on iTunes and donate to The
Ronan Thompson Foundation to help us fight cancer for kids.
