The Story of Aryo Kalbasi, As Told by His Sister
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ARTICLE DEALS WITH SENSITIVE TOPICS, NAMELY DEATH. IF THIS IS A TRIGGERING TOPIC FOR YOU, IT IS RECOMMENDED THAT YOU SKIP THIS ARTICLE.
It was a dark and rainy Monday, November 21. School had ended and my 8-year-old self was in my school’s ballet club.
As I tried to appear taller than my peers, I look into the hallway through the windows on the wooden doors. Surprisingly, I saw my best friend’s mom. Our club wasn’t nearly over, but I thought that maybe she had come to watch us dance a bit.
I smiled and waved to be polite. I didn’t get a smile or a wave back, but she still made eye contact with me. When she did, I saw a face filled with worry and concern.
I quickly looked away, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Being a mild-mannered young girl, I believed that when someone smiles at you, you must smile back. I decided that she somehow hadn’t noticed me and continued with the dance, trying to push the empty feeling in my stomach aside.
Soon enough, we were permitted to take a water break. I went up to the door with a new (and less confident) smile and said hello. The concern and worry were still clearly evident on her face as she responded “Come, we need to go.”
With that, my best friend (who I remember was not happy to be leaving) and I were taken away. As we drove, I noticed that we were driving on the same roads that my parents drove me through every day when returning from school. That’s when I pieced together that we were going home.
I was slightly relieved to see my familiar and welcoming house, where I had been living for 5 of my 8 years of existence. In the weather, the house looked more gray than white, and the chilly weather wouldn’t allow the grass to grow green.
But the relief I once felt was drained when I noticed a family friend exit a shiny black vehicle parked right outside. Normally, this family friend would be accompanied by his daughter, whom I’m still close with. But I could tell that this was no ordinary mehmooni, as us Iranians would call it.
I was ushered out of one car and ushered into the other, still without explanation. It wasn’t unusual for an occasional carpool by a family friend, but this ordeal felt very off to me. There was something that I wasn’t being told.
As we turned into the highway leading to downtown Toronto, I was once again able to figure out where the next destination was: SickKids General Hospital, at this point my second home.
In true horror movie fashion, the rain became heavy and the sky grayed as we pulled into the roundabout entrance of the hospital. Normally, I would come here with my dad, where we’d pick up a snack or stop by the toy store. But, of course, there was no time for that.
We rushed into the elevator. I was secretly hoping we’d go to one of the floors with a game room, so my mind could be put at ease and the sinking feeling in my stomach would finally go away.
Instead, the elevator guided us to a floor that I hadn’t been to before, which caused a few alarms to go off in my head. As we entered the ward, I didn’t see anything that surprised me. It looked like any hospital ward; white hospital beds everywhere, a white circular concierge desk at the entrance, and the all-too-familiar sterile stench of hospitals.
The only thing out of place in this ward were my parents, also waiting for me. My parents were usually composed people and never failed to tell me the truth, even if it was hard. So I knew that if I asked what the heck was going on (without the heck, be polite Jana) I would be given an honest answer.
I don’t remember if my parents told me what was going on. Either way, I would’ve remained lost and tired. But I don’t remember asking because I saw the same expressions that had been poorly hidden on their faces:
Sorrow. Pain. Grief.
But they had to push through and care for me, their daughter. So they did what I’m sure was one of the hardest things to do in their lives.
I was taken to a hospital room. Once again, it was similar to all the other ones I’d seen but smaller. There was a hospital bed in the center, profile to the entrance. Along the right wall of the room, there was a cushioned bench. I knew that there was a TV somewhere but I wasn’t looking for it. Because, yet again, there was one major difference between this room and the others.
There were people. More family friends, I’d say around four. Having visitors was normal, but this many was unusual. Their actions threw me off the most. Most, if not all, of them, were holding tissues and crying.
Why were these grown people crying? This is when I took note of the hospital bed. I saw a small child lying on the bed. He had chubby cheeks and his stomach was abnormally large and rigid. His eyes were closed and at first glance, he seemed to be taking a nap. But when you reached out and touched him, his hands were cold, lifeless.
I can’t put the sadness I felt into words. You don’t know it unless you feel it. It feels like someone has ripped away a part of you, your identity. It feels like all happiness you’ve ever felt is meaningless. It feels like you’ll never escape that moment, the moment where you lost your everything.
This toddler was my younger brother. And this was his dead body.
Ever since that day, my life has changed. For a while, I hid my story. I thought it would bring up too much pain for me to remember. And that’s okay! For those of you reading this with a similar story, its completely natural to avoid sharing. Whatever makes you comfortable.
But in September 2021, I decided to embrace this experience. I’ve educated myself on all things cancer and I use that knowledge to educate others through my articles (like this one!) and cancer sessions that I’ve been hosting at my school.
I’ve shared brief overviews of my story in different ways, but I’ve never given anyone the full picture. That’s why I’m writing this article. I didn’t have someone who went through what I did. My family and I had to keep moving on with life without ever knowing what curveballs lay ahead. I want anyone going through something similar to me to know that they’re not alone. It’s a simple message but it can make a huge difference.
If you know someone who’s struggling with cancer, whether that be through family, friends, or themself, share this article. Give them this resource so they can have some closure on their situation. Let them know that they are not alone.
My brother was born on July 24, 2013. He was bubbly, energetic, and he always had a wide smile on his face. He loved making people laugh and he could do so in dozens of ways. My favourite is his Persian dancing, which is usually a graceful and elegant dance. My brother made it look more like a country waltz.
My brother was diagnosed with acute leukemia, a cancer of the blood. He was only one when his cancer struck for the first time. He died of his cancer’s third attack when he was three.
I’m going to be breaking down his story throughout the years that he had cancer. In each year, I’ll have important milestones, events, and so on. I’ll try to include the dates for as many of these milestones as possible but there will likely be a few missing ones.
Year One — 2015
Diagnosis
January 27
It all started with what seemed like a simple cold. My brother was drowsy, he was coughing, and was all-around sick 🤒. His pediatrician diagnosed him with an ear infection and prescribed him 2–3 weeks of antibiotics.
But throughout November, he continued to have fevers. November turned into December and December turned into January. Still, the fevers remained.
My mom was concerned. Not only is she an internal medicine doctor but also an amazing mother. Combining her medical knowledge with the spider-senses of being a mom, she knew something was wrong. This is when we took Aryo to SickKids for blood tests.
I don’t remember much in the hospital. I remember waiting outside a room while my parents and Aryo did the tests, playing games on my dad’s phone.
And then the results came. Acute myeloid leukemia.
Then a hurricane came, and devastation reigned, our man saw his future drip, dripping down the drain…
That quote (from Hamilton) is a summary of the first two nights my brother and mother spent in the hospital. One day I was trying to comfort my dad and the next I was a sobbing mess myself. The once-comforting house felt empty and larger. Going from room to room felt like it took longer. There were no noises, except for whatever Persian music I turned on to try to cheer up my dad. This wasn’t how a four-person household with two young children usually sounded.
But the world never stops turning. I continued going to school and being my positive and outgoing self. Inside, I felt anything but normal.
First Visit
Sunday after diagnosis
No one in my family could’ve predicted the results of my brother’s diagnosis. We were caught completely off-guard and it was a hard situation to adapt to. Eventually, we settled into some form of a routine: every weekend, the parent at home with me and myself would go and visit Aryo (normally on Sundays).
The first time I visited my brother, I was mainly educated on cancer itself. I was given two booklets (both looked like they were scanned children’s books). One was a simplified explanation of leukemia, the other a simplified explanation of chemotherapy — the treatment they were planning to give my brother.
I lost the chemotherapy booklet a while ago but I had the leukemia booklet for a while. If I hadn’t thrown it out recently (it had a lot of rips and tears), I would’ve included a picture here.
This wasn’t a one-off information session either. A devoted nurse educator came to my house on multiple occasions to teach me more about my brother’s disease.
Something exceptional about the incredible staff at SickKids is how they simultaneously taught me about my brother’s disease and how to accept it while caring for my little brother. Their efforts are some of the best examples of kindness I’ve seen in human beings. In the unlikely event that any members of SickKids are reading this, thank you. I truly appreciate everything you do for all the families in your care 🙏.
Why, Charlie Brown, Why?
Another reason why the staff at SickKids are some of the most dedicated people in the known universe is how they also cared about my community — my school 🏫.
At this point, my parents were encouraged to cut my brother’s hair because of the chemotherapy he was about to begin. It was a hard choice for them but they did it. It took some time to get used to Aryo’s new look, but once we did it felt 100% natural.
One day, the same nurse educator who had been teaching me about cancer came to my grade one class. We were all sitting at our desks of four and looking up at the screen. She then began playing an episode of Why, Charlie Brown, Why?
Here’s a quick plot summary:
The episode followed Linus and his friend Janice, who had gorgeous blonde hair. In school, Janice begins burning up, so she’s picked up by her mom. Later, we figure out that she was taken to the hospital and was diagnosed with leukemia. After treatment, she returns to school. But all her hair falls out because of the chemotherapy she was on.
Towards the end, her hair grows back in the only scene I remember. Linus is pushing her on a swing, her hat falls off, and her blond hair comes pouring out.
This episode made me feel like my brother was seen. I realized that my brother wasn’t alone because so often, it felt like he was. It felt like we had no one who could truly understand our situation. This episode also made me realize that I had great friends who would support me through the journey that lay ahead.
But it also instilled false confidence that my brother would recover, just like Janice did. I thought that there would be a day where cancer would leave, never to be seen again. Spoiler alert: the first part was the only part that happened.
End of Chemotherapy — For Now…
Early March
My brother had an intensive treatment schedule, mainly consisting of chemotherapy. He was scheduled for six rounds that would each take around a month to complete.
After Aryo conquered his first round of chemotherapy, he was to come home for a few days before they started round two. And we made the most out of those few days to appreciate the simple pleasures of life. For once, we were a normal family.
Unfortunately, no good thing can last. Thus began my brother’s second cycle of treatment.
But my parents took the feeling of being a normal family and capitalized on it. Instead of me being picked up by family friends, I was picked up by either my mom or (more likely) my dad.
Still, we needed some extra support.
The Arrival of Khaleh Mahin
God bless the soul of Mahin, my great-aunt. After my brother’s first round of chemo, she came to Toronto to help my parents take care of me. Whoo boy, was she in for a ride.
For some reason, I did not like Khaleh Mahin at first. I genuinely don’t know why I was so cold towards her. She is one of the sweetest people I’ve met in my life. She’s also an amazing cook!
I remember so many things about Khaleh Mahin. I remember playing crazy eights with her almost every day on our living room couch. I also remember when she’d pick leaves from the sour grape vines that used to grow on the handrails leading up the stairs to our house. She’d use the leaves to make a delicious dolmeh, a Persian delicacy.
Khaleh Mahin stayed with us for a year and a half. She was an incredible support to my family and we still talk with her a lot. Having someone like her is invaluable in this kind of situation.
If you’re going through something like this, make sure you have a close circle of trustworthy people who you know will support you. Never think that this is your battle only to fight because it isn’t.
It’s like trying to play against the world’s greatest basketball team solo. You will get smoked. You’ve got to have a team that has your back no matter what💪.
The ICU
Okay, so I learned about this only today, for reasons I will explain later.
Aryo was diagnosed with sepsis, meaning his blood became infected. Sepsis is potentially life-threatening, so it was crucial to deal with this roadblock ASAP. The problem: I was not allowed to visit him in the ICU because of my age.
Remember, I was visiting my brother every week. It was weird not to see him again for a while and not knowing why. Nobody explained to me what sepsis was or what the ICU even was.
TL;DR — I never knew that my brother had sepsis 🤷♀️
This sounds outrageous, but it isn’t. My parents had to choose what to share with me and what to hide. They wanted me to understand what was going on in our lives but they also didn’t want me to be traumatized by the experience. I’m grateful that I wasn’t left in the dark.
Luckily, Aryo was only in the ICU for five to six days. But I’m sure those few days were a real nail-biter for my parents.
Remission and Preschool
After another round of chemo, we were finally able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. My brother was in remission, meaning that there wasn’t detection of cancer in his blood (or his cancerous blast cells were under 5%, which is normal).
All this time, my brother’s childhood consisted of being cooped up in the hospital. Most of you probably got to go outside, enjoy the sun, make friends, etc. But Aryo was stuck in bed awaiting his treatments.
We decided that this needed to change and when we found out that Aryo was in remission, we signed him up for preschool.
He seemed to like it and he made some friends. I remember every day after school I would ask my parents “How was Aryo’s preschool?” And they’d tell me all about the mischief he caused or how he made the teachers laugh.
During this time, my brother came home. I would come home from school and have my brother run full speed towards me. We sang nursery rhymes together (nobody can beat my wheels on the bus karaoke 🎤), danced like nobody was watching (while my mom filmed us), and I’d constantly get pestered with fart noises. We had this bubble machine and we’d turn it on (inside the house) and try to pop all the bubbles.
These were the happiest days of my life. Yes, there was a traumatic day where I tried to carry Aryo and accidentally dropped him (I still feel guilty about that) and hid in my room because of the shame, but other than that those days consisted of nothing but smiles and laughter.
This lasted for a glorious five or six months. Then, we got the worst news.
Aryo’s Second Birthday
July 24
For my brother’s second birthday, our family decided to go to Blue Mountain. I don’t remember much of this trip except for seeing a whole pig being roasted in front of one of the restaurants and going on this ride called the Ridge Runner.
But soon after the trip, my parents told me that something terrible had happened: my brother’s cancer had returned.
It was one of the worst things to hear. For the rest of year one, it was back to square one. Treatments, hospital visits, you name it.
But the doctors at SickKids were coming up with some creative new treatments for my brother to try out. For now, we had to keep pushing and deal with this curveball.
End of year one
Year Two— 2016
Central port
March
Reminder: at this point, my brother was two. Children at this age aren’t typically huge fans of needles. The same was true for my brother, but unfortunately he had to get a lot of needles due to his treatment. Mind you, these needles consisted of blind attempts to hit an artery.
This is why the doctors requested a central port for him. It’s essentially a tube that starts in an artery in one’s arm and ends at their heart (usually the right side).
The downside to a central port is that it can’t get wet. This meant no pools, no beaches, and being wrapped up in nylon for a shower.
At the time, Aryo was a test subject for a new kind of immunotherapy, a treatment that harnesses the immune system’s power. The central port was used to give him his treatments. Luckily, he didn’t experience any side effects of this unfamiliar treatment.
While the central port was useful, it was eventually removed.
Introducing the Bone Marrow Transplant
Before I get into this section, it’s biology time 😎.
The bone marrow is the mass production source for stem cells. These are baby cells that can develop into red blood cells, white blood cells, or platelets.
A bone marrow transplant is when a donor’s healthy stem cells are injected into a patient’s body. The donor’s healthy stem cells will make their way to the bone marrow and begin producing more healthy stem cells. However, for this transplant to be effective, the donor and the patient’s stem cells should be a match. This transplant is mainly used for patients who have, you guessed it, leukemia.
To clarify, this was a non-invasive transplant, meaning that there would be no cutting holes in my body. Think of it as a very intense blood test.
Most of this was explained to me in much more simplified terms. Then, I was told, “We want you to do the transplant.”
After this, I was given more information. My parents’ stem cells were too large to qualify as a match, but mine were the right size. I was reassured that if I did do the transplant, my stem cells would automatically be replenished. I was also told that I would have a hard time walking after the transplant. And my parents kept on emphasizing that this would be my choice. I would be the one deciding whether or not I would participate in the transplant.
At this point, I was seven. I’m not exaggerating when I say this was probably the easiest decision in my life. I love my brother more than anything in the world and I’d still do anything for him. I just wanted him to get better and if this would help, then I would do so.
Without a doubt in mind, I said yes.
Extensive Treatment
Two weeks before the transplant
While I was learning more about the transplant (and also finding someone to help me walk afterwards), my brother was loading up on his treatments.
The goal was to destroy his bone marrow so mine would be welcome.
The treatments included a large dose of chemotherapy for 10 days and entire body radiation for a week. Neither of these treatments were painful, but Aryo was quite fatigued by the end of these cycles.
But the end of these treatments meant it was time for the actual transplant to begin.
Genetic Testing
1–2 days before the transplant
Before the transplant, I had to do some genetic testing. This meant I had to sit in chair for an extended period of time while blood was taken from my body and sorted into various coloured test tubes.
During the test, I was looking at my report card with my mom. I had been trying to keep up with school, even with all the chaos going on in my life. I’d been doing a good job, or at least as good as you can do in grade two.
I think I filled up at least 20 vials with my blood and I remember being a bit tired afterwards. But my mom did give me a necklace with little charms inside. She had bought it at the hospital and I still have it to this day.
Bone Marrow Transplant
Thursday, May 6
It was finally time for the transplant. I remember getting a couple of cards from my peers and my teacher wishing me luck and a smooth recovery for the transplant. These kind words gave me a boost of confidence the next morning.
Before the transplant, I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink (though I did sneak a sip of water). I was allowed to bring a stuffed animal, which I did. It was a unicorn 🦄 I got from the hospital’s gift shop that I named Uni.
At the hospital, I was taken to a day surgery unit. While my mom and I waited (my dad was with Aryo), we were asked to fill out a consent form. I got to sign it with my god-awful cursive writing.
After some more waiting, I was called up for a check-up before the treatment began. I was instructed to change into a hospital gown. It was a typical check-up: knocking hammers against knees, shining lights into eyes, looking into ears, stuff like that. A more uncommon test that they did was checking my blood pressure, which I had never done before.
Everything checked out, so I was given a wristband (so was Uni) and I selected the flavour of the gas I would be taking. Naturally, I chose bubble gum. To my delight, the flavour did end up coming through.
My dad came down to check on me before the procedure would begin. The whole family (minus Aryo, who was probably with our caregiver) waited for a bit longer before the doctors came in and announced that they were ready.
I said goodbye and I was wheeled off in a hospital bed to the operating room. I remember very clearly that there was a TV in the top left corner of my eyesight playing Nickelodeon or Treehouse or some other children’s channel.
A doctor gave me a mask with a green balloon thing on the end. He told me that I was supposed to try and blow into it. Inside of this balloon was the bubblegum-flavoured sleeping gas. The doctor began counting either the breaths I was taking or just seconds. 1…2…3…
Then I passed out. I was unconscious enough that I don’t remember the sense of sleeping during the operation.
Four hours later (or so I’m told), I was shaken awake. It was a female voice that sounded slightly annoyed, like she’d been shaking me for a very long time (whoops 😅). Immediately, I felt sick and exhausted. I was informed that the procedure had been a success and I was wheeled to a hospital room where my parents awaited me.
I ordered some chicken fingers from the hospital (which are surprisingly good), but I felt too sick to eat them. After 30 minutes to an hour, my mom showed me a picture of my blood (containing my bone marrow) that had been taken during the operation. She told me that the hospital staff were getting ready to inject this into my brother.
Later in the evening, I was dismissed to go home. Unfortunately, I was unable to walk (I also had an embarrassing cast on my lower back with two humps on the left and right side). So instead of walking, I was wheeled out on a wheelchair. It would’ve been the time of my life if I wasn’t so tired.
When I got home, I tested my walking abilities. The result? Non-existent. My parents had to teach me how to walk up the stairs again and even then I had trouble.
All in all, it was a long day and I was ready for some much needed sleep.
Visitors
May 7–9
During the weekend, I had to teach myself to walk. But I have some great memories of friends and classmates visiting me and keeping me company. Some friends even took the Friday off school just to spend time with me.
I got visitors mainly from my school. Some people I was very close with, like my best friend who was mentioned in the intro. Others were just classmates. But it was incredible to see all these people unite just to help me. People were making sure I could walk down the stairs properly and others were boosting my mood and telling jokes.
I still have some of the braclets that people got me and it warms my heart to remember this day. My classmates were all so kind and supportive during these years. Even now, there are days where I have a breakdown because I had been reminded of the past and those who know remain by my side. If any of you guys are reading this, thank you all for everything you do.
Aryo’s Third Birthday
July 24
My mom and I went all out on Aryo’s birthday. We did a construction vehicles theme with a dump truck piñata and a construction-themed cake. It was going to be great!
But on his birthday, my brother seemed drained. He wasn’t the bubbly child he usually was. We still proceeded with the family-only party we had planned. But something wasn’t right.
Three days later, we found out what the problem was. My brother, once again, had cancer on his birthday.
It was sad to hear, but we didn’t let it hold us back from making sure Aryo had a good time. You must stay positive while also being realistic. I’ll talk more about this later.
Make-A-Wish Trip (and Introducing Pillow)
Canadian Thanksgiving (October)
You may have heard of the Make-A-Wish foundation. They’re an amazing organization that grants a wish of a child with a particularly harmful illness. They supported my family by funding a trip around Quebec for us. Thank you to those who made this possible and anyone else contributing to their noble cause.
The trip was a fun one. We spent a day in Ottawa, a few days in Mont Tremblant, a few in Quebec City, and a few in Montreal.
For Ottawa, I only remember seeing the RCMP march around the House of Parliament. It was a fun stop nothenless. In Mont Tremblant, I remember tree-top trekking and painting some pottery with Aryo and my mom.
Quebec City was a bit of a mess. I remember we stayed in a fancy hotel. I remember trying some shrimp from a spread of food and then vomiting in the elevator. It was… an experience, to say the least.
Montreal is where my brother met his first beloved Pillow. Pillow was a blue circle with a squeaky red nose. He had a bunch of tentacles sprawling out everywhere, each with a specific shape on the end. One had a yellow star, another had a green triangle.
My brother formed a very strong bond with his Pillows and wouldn't go anywhere without one of them. Yes, I said one of them. I think we had a grand total of seven large Pillows and one mini Pillow. The only things that could rival Pillow in terms of Aryo’s affection were his pacifiers.
We still have some of the Pillows — I don’t we have the will to give all of them away. It’s a reminder of the good times and all the laughs.
Halloween
October 31
I was so excited for Halloween in grade 3. I won the costume contest for my Cleopatra costume and I was going to go trick-or-treating with my brother! Most importantly, it would be his first Halloween not in a hospital.
Unfortunately, my brother’s condition had hit its low point. I remember going into his room and seeing him fast asleep on his bed. It was kind of scary, to be honest. My mom was hovering over him and told me that he was too unwell to go trick-or-treating.
I was super disappointed. I knew that my brother’s cancer had worsened and that he’d been extremely tired for a while. My mom and I had already started the difficult conversation about Aryo’s potential death. She told me that she’d rather I know the truth than be caught off-guard. Frankly, I’m grateful she told me when she did. Later on, I would learn that my mom had begun planning for my brother’s funeral only two weeks after this Halloween.
Epilogue
Time Runs Out
November 21
And we’re back to the beginning. This is the day my brother died.
After I saw my brother’s body, I was given the opportunity to create a mould with me holding his hand. We had done these moulds before. I did mine with my own two hands while Aryo did his with my mom.
I held his cold, wrinkly hand and we dipped it into the mixture. As we did this, I realized that this would be the last time I held my brother. It would be the last time I’d see him. So I tried to make it last.
The Burial
Thursday after November 21
The week after my brother died, I didn’t go to school. But my classmates were informed of what happened and I got a large packet of cards, all with lovely messages about how I was a great sister, how they missed me, how they were sorry about Aryo, and more. I still read them and think about how lucky I am to have friends who care.
The burial was hard. Most of my classmates couldn't make it because of school, but a lot of our family friends still came. It was a silent day filled with sollemn mourners.
Nothing of note happened here other than what you’d expect: burying my brother underground in a coffin.
Ceremony of Life
Sunday after November 21
I think this is what truly gave me closure over our situation. My parents arranged for a long ceremony celebrating my brother’s life. All my closest friends, family, and teachers were there, but there were also classmates, teachers who didn’t teach me, and even my previous grade one teacher who had since moved on to teach at another school.
The ceremony began with a slideshow movie showcasing snippets of my brothers life. There were floral arrangments at the front of the stage, one spelling out Aryo and the other resembling a car. I don’t remember the exact order of events from here on out.
I remember my mom’s friend (who’s an oncologist) talking about her perspective of the story. I remember the principal of the junior school (aka elementary school) talking about how brave I was and showing one of my artworks to the crowd. The piece was a card resembling myself, inside and outside. I don’t remember what was on the outside, but the inside had a picture of a rock with the word courage written on it, covered with a black “gate” of sorts.
Of course, I remember the song Walking in the Air, performed by another one of my mom’s friends.
Seeing so many people come to see this ceremony warmed my heart. It instilled a more positive mindset in my mind that day. I tried to be happier because I knew that my brother would never be forgotten. If I reflected on all the negatives every day, I would be miserable. Instead, I look back and see the happy memories we made.
Photo Gallery
Shoutout to my mom who supplied a good portion of these photos!
Conclusion
Hopefully, this article can help at least one person get through a difficult situation like this. I once again urge you to share this to anyone in need because (at least from my experience) it’ll mean the world.
I want to thank everyone who helped my family get through our scenario. Everyone from teachers, staff, friends, you guys helped so much. I especially want to thank my parents for being brave and managing to juggle my brother and me. Words can’t express my gratitude.
Extra shoutout to my mom, who was instrumental in the creation of this article. She deserves all the praise and recognition the world has to offer.
Thank you for making it this far and for taking the time out of your life to learn about my story.
