Six Years of Courage, One Lifetime of Light — The Story of Kailey.1982
The sun had just begun to set when Kailey Lawson took her last breath.
It was 7:57 p.m., and the room was filled with love — the kind of love that holds on even when it hurts to let go.
Her parents, Heather and David Lawson, cradled her gently, whispering words no parent should ever have to say.
And then, quietly, peacefully, Kailey was free.
She was only ten.
But she had lived with the courage of someone who had seen a thousand lifetimes.
Kailey’s story began on December 27th, 2013, when she came into the world — bright-eyed, curious, and full of laughter.
From the very beginning, she loved life with every bit of her little heart.
She loved music and dancing barefoot in the living room.
She loved coloring outside the lines and believed the sky should always have a little extra pink.
Her laughter filled every corner of the house, echoing through the years like sunshine you could hear.
Then, in 2018, everything changed.
Kailey was just four when the fevers began.
Her parents thought it was nothing — just another childhood sickness.
But then came the fatigue, the bruises, the pain she couldn’t explain.
Doctors ran tests, and then came the words that would change everything:
Stage 4 Neuroblastoma.
Cancer.
The kind that doesn’t play fair.
The kind that takes more than it ever gives.
Her mother, Heather, still remembers that moment — the way her heart stopped, the way the room went silent.
She said later, “It felt like the world collapsed in on itself. But when I looked at Kailey, she just smiled at me — and said, ‘It’s okay, Mommy. We can do this.’”
From that day forward, Kailey became not just a little girl — but a warrior.
Hospitals replaced playgrounds.
Needles replaced crayons.
And yet, through it all, Kailey smiled.
She smiled through chemo.
She smiled through surgeries.
She smiled even when her hair began to fall, saying, “It’s just hair, Mommy. I’ll be even cuter when it grows back.”
The nurses adored her.
They said her laughter could lift an entire floor.
She would tell them jokes before treatments, draw hearts on her IV tape, and sing songs to the other children who were scared.
Even as the disease grew stronger, Kailey’s joy never wavered.
She loved decorating her hospital room with fairy lights and rainbows, calling it her “sparkle space.”
Every day, she would remind her parents, “We have to keep smiling — that’s how we win.”
Her favorite color was yellow — because, as she said, “It feels like happy.”
And that was exactly what she was: a little beam of happiness in the darkest of places.
Years went by, and Kailey kept fighting.
She went through rounds of chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, stem cell transplants — treatments that would break most adults.
But she faced each one with the same bravery and humor that defined her.
When people asked how she was doing, she always said, “I’m good! Just sparkly tired.”
By the time she turned ten, her tiny body was tired, but her spirit remained unbroken.
Her parents knew the truth — that time was slipping away.
And so they filled her days with love.
Trips to the zoo, movie nights, picnics on the living room floor — little moments that became everything.
Kailey loved watching sunsets.
She said they reminded her that “even the sky knows how to say goodbye beautifully.”
On her final evening, the sky was painted in her favorite color — yellow, melting into pink.
She was in her parents’ arms, surrounded by warmth, stories, and soft lullabies.
At 7:57 p.m., her breathing slowed.
Her mother whispered, “It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to fight anymore. You’ve already won.”
And then, in that still, golden light, Kailey’s heart beat its last beat.
Heather later wrote:
“7:57 p.m., in Mommy and Daddy’s arms, surrounded by love, Kailey took her last breath and her heart beat its last beat. She won her fight and is free.”
Because that’s how Kailey lived — not defeated, but victorious.
She didn’t lose her battle; she simply ran out of time.
In the days that followed, the house felt impossibly quiet.
Her drawings still hung on the fridge.
Her favorite stuffed bunny still sat at the edge of her bed.
And her laughter — that sweet, unforgettable sound — seemed to linger in the walls.
Her parents said the hardest part wasn’t the silence.
It was the love that had nowhere to go.
Yet somehow, even now, Kailey’s light continues to shine.
People who knew her — and even those who didn’t — speak of her with a smile.
They say she taught them what it means to live fully, to smile even when life hurts, and to find beauty in every goodbye.
Her mother often says, “Kailey didn’t lose to cancer. She beat it in the only way that mattered — by never letting it steal her joy.”
And maybe that’s true.
Maybe heaven really is a place filled with color and laughter — and maybe, right now, Kailey is dancing barefoot in the light she always carried inside her.
Rest easy, sweet girl.
You are so loved.
And you will always be free.
Emily’s Brave Fight: A 4-Year-Old Facing a Wilms Tumor with Courage and Laughter.1536
On Monday, September 1, our lives changed forever.
We learned that our sweet great-niece, Emily, had a Wilms tumor on her kidney.
Emily is just 4 years old.
She is the kind of child who becomes instant friends with everyone she meets.
Spunky, silly, full of love and laughter, her little giggles can melt your heart in an instant.
She is a ray of sunshine, even on the darkest days.
As you can imagine, this news has been overwhelming for her parents, Dustin and Cierra, and for our entire family.
They had just moved from Las Vegas to Phoenix two weeks before Emily’s diagnosis.
The excitement of a new home and new beginnings turned into fear, uncertainty, and worry.
Thankfully, they are surrounded by family and the best doctors here in the valley, which gives us all a little comfort.
Dustin is a massage therapist who had just started a new job in Peoria.
Since September 1, he has been at Emily’s side every single day, putting his career on hold.
Unfortunately, with his job being so new, he doesn’t have paid time off yet.
His family depends on his income, and now he is trying to balance being a parent, a caregiver, and a provider all at once.
Cierra, too, was set to start her new job, but that has been paused until they can navigate the next steps of this journey.
Every single day is a reminder of how quickly life can change, and how fragile normalcy can be.
Emily underwent surgery to remove her kidney and the tumor from her tiny body.
It was a long, invasive operation, but she faced it with the courage of a warrior far beyond her years.
Even after waking from surgery, she managed to smile through the pain.
Her bravery humbles everyone who knows her.
Doctors, nurses, and family alike have been amazed at her strength and her gentle spirit.
The road ahead will not be easy.
Emily will soon begin radiation and chemotherapy to make sure this ugly disease does not come back.
Every scan, every treatment, every infusion will test her little body and her spirit.
Yet, in the midst of this, Emily continues to bring joy to those around her.
Her laughter echoes through the hospital halls.
Her curiosity and playfulness remind us all of what we are fighting for.
She reminds us why every effort, every prayer, and every ounce of love matters.
Our family is doing everything we can to ease the financial burden of this diagnosis.
We want Dustin and Cierra to focus entirely on Emily’s recovery without the added stress of bills or missed income.
Every meal, every hotel stay, every unexpected expense adds up quickly.
Childhood cancer is not just an emotional battle; it is also a logistical and financial one.
And no parent should have to worry about making ends meet while their child fights for life.
Please keep Emily, Dustin, Cierra, and our family in your prayers.
We are navigating this world of childhood cancer together, learning about hope, resilience, and love along the way.
Every day is a small victory, whether it’s a giggle from Emily, a strong lab result, or a calm moment between treatments.
These moments are what keep us moving forward, what keep our hearts believing in the possibility of recovery.
We know the road ahead will have challenges.
There will be hard days, long nights, and moments where fear threatens to overwhelm us.
But we also know the power of community, love, and unwavering hope.
Emily has already taught us lessons about strength, courage, and the importance of cherishing every moment.
She shows us how a small child can carry a heart larger than life itself, bringing hope to everyone who meets her.
So we keep moving forward, one day at a time.
We hold Emily close, we support her parents, and we treasure every laugh, every hug, and every tiny victory.
Because she deserves a chance to grow up, to play, to dream, and to live a life free from the shadow of this disease.
Emily is a fighter, a beacon of light, and a reminder that even in the darkest moments, love and courage can shine through.
