When I was little, I used to listen to my grandparents’ stories about World War II — stories of bravery, sacrifice, and love in the hardest of times. I never realized that one day, I’d draw from their same quiet courage.
During my cancer journey, their memory became my anchor. They taught me that resilience isn’t loud; it’s steady. It’s the will to keep showing up for life, even when the world feels uncertain.
This page is a tribute to them — and to every generation that has fought its own battle with strength, grace, and faith.
The Roots of My Strength
When I think about where my strength comes from, I always find myself looking back — to my grandparents.
They were both World War II veterans, people who knew what it meant to face fear with faith, to hold onto love when the world felt uncertain, and to rebuild from ashes with hope still intact.
Their courage wasn’t loud or dramatic. It lived in small, steadfast acts — a handwritten letter sent across oceans, a quiet promise kept, a prayer whispered in the dark. I didn’t realize, until years later, how deeply that quiet courage had shaped me.
Drawing From Their Strength
When I was diagnosed with lymphoma, their stories came rushing back.
I remembered my grandfather’s discipline, the way he spoke about duty and perseverance, and my grandmother’s grace under pressure — how she kept life steady when everything around her changed.
During treatment, I thought of them often. Their generation fought for freedom; mine fights for healing. But the spirit is the same — a refusal to give up, to stop believing in brighter days ahead.
They taught me that courage doesn’t always look like victory parades. Sometimes it’s just showing up — one more morning, one more appointment, one more chance to live.
The Thread That Connects Us
My journey with cancer taught me how much we carry from the ones who came before us.
Their strength lives in my hands when I write, in my voice when I tell my story, and in every act of kindness I try to put into the world.
Through Farmstand Grove and Cheer Mail, I hope to keep their spirit alive — reminding others that even in the hardest seasons, love and courage endure.
This page isn’t just a tribute to them — it’s a promise. To keep living with the same bravery they showed me. To keep creating beauty, even in the midst of brokenness. And to keep telling stories that remind others they are never alone.