Jackson

Your brother needs his own chapter.

It is hard to express in words or pictures what a sweet soul that boy has.  We knew of his special spirit long before your diagnosis. But it takes something like this sometimes, to remind you just how perceptive and intuitive he is for a five year old boy. Kaylee, do you know you are always his best friend, even if you say he isn't yours? He knows just what to say to you when you need it most. He would stay up late wondering how you could go from feeling fine, to having such a big disease, literally overnight. Our Jackson has been ready to fight with you, maybe since before we even knew there was something to fight. He is your biggest fan.  He was so eager to be a part of what you were going through. Even though you'd never tell him, I know you missed him like crazy when we spent those long weeks in Little Rock. 

When you your hair started coming loose in small steady amounts, he wanted to lose his too.  He was sure it would be the coolest thing, and to show you, he had dad take him out back and shave off all his hair. Just like that.  Not a second thought. But cutting it with gaurdless clippers wasn't enough.  That wasn't bald like you were going to be, so he insisted we take a razor to his head, so he could feel only his skin.  He wondered if people would think he had cancer!  You were both so eager for the trip to Little Rock when you knew this time, you could do it together. 

We made the long drive, and you slowly learned how to share again.  He was patient with you as you moaned and grumbled about sharing toys, elevator buttons, and snack choices.  I reminded you how lonely you had been without him, how your stomach hurt after talking to him on the phone and how you sobbed into my shoulder wishing he were with us in our lonely hotel room. It didn't take long for you to remember, and suddenly sharing didn't seem so bad. 

We drove straight to your last radiation appointment. You showed Jackson how you could  hang out the car window to punch the number code to make the parking gate go up.  Then you took him to the locker area and showed him how to turn the key to lock up your stuff.  You showed him off to all the nurses, and they loved meeting your not-so-little, little brother (afterall he is nearly as big as you!).  You showed him your sticker chart, and since it was the last day you got to keep it.  They dug up some awesome Tshirts for the both of you.  They had boxing gloves, and read "You think you're tough?  I'm fighting cancer!" Jackson, a true fighter, couldn't wait to put his on.  I don't think he took it off the rest of the trip.

After we finished up your final radiation treatment, you hugged the nurses and we went to pick out some snacks for the hotel before check in.  We made our way to the hotel, and the two of you were so busy with plans that it was hard to keep up with what we were going to do next.  We finally decided on pizza, and found a New York style pizza place to get a little taste of home. The trip was all about you two, so you both chose a seat out on the patio and we talked about how fun it would be to have the rest of the family there with us. 

We headed back to the hotel with full bellies and got ready for a nice swim to cool off from the scorching southern heat.  We played marco polo, swam races, and floated around until the sun started to go down.  We headed to the room and watched a movie on TV.  We dug into our treats and couldn't resist a game of chubby bunny. 

Watching the two of you laugh, and whisper, and play lifted some more of those weights that seemed to constantly sit on my shoulders. We all squished into one bed snuggled up close and fell soundly asleep.  

 The next morning was Chemo.  We headed to the clinic after breakfast and got settled in the Infusion room to recieve your first dose of what is nicknamed "the red devil" because it is bright red, and it it attacks your bone marrow to the point of dangerously low immune systems, and anemia along with other unpleasent side effects. I'd been dreading it since I heard the nickname from parents whose kids had been admited after their doeses of the red devil. No mom wants to hear a nickname like that for a medicine about to enter her daughters blood stream.  But Jackson helped make everything lighter.  He thought everything you did was so cool and so tough.  He would say things like "wow, kaylee really is tough," or "I can't believe she doesn't cry when she gets a shot. . . Kaylee, how do you not cry!?" He was wishing that his pee would turn red, like yours would.  He sat patiently through the 5 hour doctor visit, just to be with you, and cheer you on.

It's hard to be the sibling of someone with cancer. Jackson watches as you get packages and cards in the mail, have get-aways with mom, eat ice cream without even having to have dinner, miss out on chore duty, and he could put up a fuss, but he rarely does.  He worries for you. He encourages you. He tries to make you laugh when you are sad, or sick. He tries to learn all he can about cancer, and cells, and chemo to know just what you are going through. He puts in so much into this battle.  If he could he would take his light saber and take your cancer head-on.  He is such a small boy to make such a big contribution to the fight. I often wonder how we would ever do all this without Jackson. He will probably never get the credit he deserves and he isn't even looking for it.

Jackson, all this said, there are no real words to describe your sweet offerings.  You may marvel over super heros, but I marvel over you, and what a real hero you are.