10/10/2026
Happy 5-year anniversary to my ride or die. ❤️
But there is absolutely nothing happy about this day.
Imagine planning your wedding on the day of your son’s funeral.
Four times we planned to get married. Four times we had to cancel because Hunty relapsed.
The fourth time was going to be a surprise wedding. Everything was planned. The rings were bought, my dress had been taken in, and for once, we thought we might actually get our special day.
Then COVID hit the night before we were due to fly out.
Three weeks later, Hunty relapsed. For the final time.
The little page boy outfit we had bought for him to wear at our wedding became the clothes we buried him in.
Even writing those words breaks me.
So five years ago, instead of standing beside each other celebrating our love, we stood beside each other saying goodbye to the little boy who made us a family.
This is childhood cancer at its fu***ng rawest.
It doesn’t just take your child’s health. It steals birthdays, holidays, milestones, dreams and the future you thought you had. It takes the ordinary, beautiful moments that other families get to take for granted.
And sometimes, it takes your child too.
Five years married to my ride or die. Not the wedding, not the anniversary, and certainly not the life we ever imagined.
But through every relapse, every hospital admission, every shattered dream and the unimaginable pain of losing our boy, we’ve had each other.
I wouldn’t want to walk this heartbreaking life with anyone else.
I love you, Dave. ❤️
I just wish our little page boy had been there to see us get married. 💔
