Part 1 - Deep Appreciation

Title: Deep appreciation

Date: 7/12/2025

So many encounters in this young journey have stirred unexpected emotions—deep appreciation, quiet confusion, even flashes of anger I didn’t expect. As I poured them out through my fingertips, I realized: perhaps each entry should hold just one emotion at a time, cradled gently so it can breathe. And always, the guiding light remains the same—begin each day with appreciation and self-reflection.

Deep Appreciation

Even in a world that is chaotic and unapologetically absurd, kindness is still everywhere. Somehow, Eric and I find ourselves wrapped in it—held in a net of compassion spun by family, friends, acquaintances, and even strangers.

A teenager who built us a website so we could share our story and help others learn how to get involved.

A colleague who transformed our journey into a video that could speak for us when words were too hard to say.

My mom flying in to remind me that during a crisis, I need to put on my own oxygen mask before I can help anyone else.

Parents of Max and Molly’s friends reaching out to offer help.

People—some we know, and many we don’t—keeping us in their prayers. Some even picking up the phone to be tested.

The list keeps growing. If this isn’t grace, I don’t know what is.

Deidre

Deidre was the first person I approached to ask for help. I was nervous—I didn’t know how to bring it up, and I wasn’t sure how it would land. But I knew she had helped others in similar situations before, so I took a breath and told her. Without hesitation, she said, “I got you.”

If you’ve watched our YouTube video, you’ve heard her voice. She’s the one who narrated it with so much care and heart. If you haven’t seen it yet, please do—and share it. Every share brings us closer to the person we’re still searching for. Deidre, thank you so much.

Julia

Julia was the first person to show me how to use social media to tell our story. She has this amazing combination of warmth, wisdom, and spark. She helped me break through my fear of posting and just start.

Since then, I’ve texted and called her countless times, and she always answers. I even joked that maybe she should stop telling me everything she’s good at—because chances are, I’ll end up asking her for help with that too. Julia, thank you so much.

Mr. Mayo

Mr. Mayo is the principal at my son’s high school, where I also work. It’s a large school, but more than once, he’s taken time to acknowledge and compliment my work in the classroom—and that has always meant a lot.

After we launched our GoFundMe, I emailed him to ask if we could place flyers in teachers’ mailboxes. Due to policy, it wasn’t possible, which I completely understood. But Mr. Mayo went a step further and connected me to someone at the Board of Ed. That led to a conversation with the district’s communications director, and within days, our story appeared in the Greenwich Free Press.

A few days later, during graduation, we happened to walk beside Mr. Mayo. We introduced him to Molly, who’s starting as a freshman, and he and Eric chatted about the ceremony. He didn’t realize we were the family in the article. Mr. Mayo, thank you so much.

Angelo

My dear friend Maribel is one of the coolest people I know. She welcomed me into her world, made me feel like family, and made me feel like I belonged. Her brother Angelo is just as generous.

I had a long list of small home projects I always assumed Eric might get to eventually. But with his health in crisis, I came to terms with the fact that it probably wouldn’t happen.

Then came Angelo. He came by and fixed everything. He even returned later to repair a broken door lock, saving us hundreds of dollars. And when it was all done, I looked around and felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—like things were somewhat in the right place, finally moving in the right direction. Angelo, thank you so much.

Spencer

Spencer didn’t want credit. He asked not to be mentioned. But I can’t leave him out.

He’s the incredibly patient and talented teenager who built our website from scratch. He’s the one who suggested using “.org” when the .com version was taken—and that idea opened the door for everything else: our Instagram, our flyers, and a way for people to learn how they can help. Spencer, thank you so much.

Denise

With Julia’s help, we created a flyer featuring Eric in uniform with the kids, along with QR codes, links, and contact info. It’s now our calling card. But color printing, of course, isn’t cheap.

We brought the file to a print shop in Mamaroneck. Denise, the owner, encouraged someone from her team—possibly her son—to figure out how to print it even though the file wasn’t in the right format. They got it done. And they didn’t charge me.

But what moved me most was what came next. Denise reached for my hands and prayed with me. I left with beautiful flyers—but more importantly, I left feeling seen, supported, and loved. Denise, thank you so much.

Pedro

This happened just this morning. To us, Pedro will always feel like he’s under 21, because that’s how we remember him. (Don’t ask how we know that…)

He showed up at our door like no time had passed. He still looks exactly the same. But what he brought with him today was something we desperately needed—a crash course in Instagram, a way to pull it all together.

In just two hours, he cleaned up our digital mess, connected the dots, and gave us the tools we didn’t even know how to ask for. Pedro, thank you so much.

To the Matching Donor We Haven’t Yet Met

To the matching donor we haven’t yet met:

We don’t know how or when we’ll meet you. But we believe you’re out there.

And along this journey—this long and uncertain search—we have never been alone. From the very beginning, people have shown up. They’ve helped, supported, reached out, stepped in. Their kindness has carried us through.

We can’t wait for our stars to align.

To Eric

And to Eric—thank you for your strength. Even on the hardest days, you try to spare me from your burden. You wake up with a smile, determined to give us hope. You remind me every day that we are not just enduring—we are moving forward, together.

You always say you’re okay, even when I know you’re not. You never complain—not about the fatigue, the pain, the aching body, or the sleepless nights. You keep showing up, doing whatever you can for Max and Molly, and for me. It’s hard for you to admit, even to yourself, that you’re actually very sick.

But somehow, you stay afloat. You hold on—because you need to, and want to, be there for us. Every single day.