This little boy- who loves tennis and knows more about cars than I ever will - is the strongest person I know.
...and he could have died.
On September 30, 2007, Field was diagnosed with ALL Pre-B Cell Leukemia. He was three and was facing the biggest fight of his life, and I never felt more weak and helpless in mine. Four years of chemo. Four years of hospital visits. Four years of being a spectator to a fight that I could do nothing, physically, to help. Not once during the entire time did he ever lose his light. Often times, I found that it wasn't the doctors' assurances that everything that was going to be fine, it was seeing him run around and just be a normal, energetic boy that could (and probably still can) kick my ass in Wii tennis.
On January 8, 2011, Field was officially in remission. He won. He was stronger than cancer.
A few weeks ago, my sister had asked me to write something from an uncle's point of view for the launch of her site Live in Love & Hope (which will be launching soon), I told her that I couldn't. Expressing anything other than shiny, happy feelings is incredibly difficult for me, so this would be a challenge for me to say the least. After giving it a lot of thought, I realized how pivotal his fight was to my own desire to become stronger.
Feeling powerless in a situation is one of my largest pet peeves. If I can't positively affect a situation, I get extremely frustrated. In being there and helping out when I could, I played my part, but I still felt helpless. My first instinct, to become stronger - physically - so I could be the rock, so to speak, for my family. Having more of a physical presence during a rough time is incredibly important to me. It's comforting to physically have someone there. So I lifted hard and strove to improve my presence. To be there. To be strong.
Field has been cancer free for almost a year and a half and his light is brighter than ever. He's still a beacon of strength, determination, and inspiration for me.
and he can still kick my ass in Wii tennis.