Adam Fedosoff's Journal
Written Apr 20, 2013 11:39amThe most wonderful and courageous family with the most beautiful, brave and determined daughter will be gathering tomorrow for their final goodbyes.There are no words good enough to describe the beauty that Tamara possessed. And there are no words awful enough to describe how empty this world will be without her.I remember meeting this family during our residency at the hospital in 2011. They had just begun their journey, and I was terrified to invite anyone into mine, especially at the stage we were at. I wanted them to continue with some hope in their hearts.But somehow, their precious little girl touched us all, and we bonded and united in our battles.They have supported our family in more ways than I can count. They even mounted their bikes last summer in Tour for Kids in honour of their daughter and in honour of Adam.I wish that these words never had to be written because she should still be here and so should you. It should not be this way. Life is short, precious and a lot less beautiful without the two of you in it. I’ll never in my life understand any of this. It just simply must stop...Adam, I know you will watch over your friend with kindness.Please keep this family in your thoughts as they face life without their little girl.Fly high, Tamara. You have reached the stars...
You Were Perfect For Me
Written Apr 15, 2013 7:39pm
You know it’s bad when I’m very quiet. Today was one of those days that I could hardly speak. I was only thinking about what occurred today 19 years ago and in disbelief of where we are today. And of course, I looked for you everywhere…
19 years ago, I was organizing our home for Adam’s arrival. We knew we were having a baby boy and we were over the moon about it.
Little did we know what life would bring for Adam13 years later. Certainly not what any parent dreams about for their little one, and not how you celebrate 19 years later.
Adam James Fedosoff arrived on April 15th, 1994, at 8:12 a.m weighing 8 lbs 13 oz. I remember the humour passed around that early morning, that I should have waited another minute to push you out so that your birth time and weight would be easier for everyone to remember. After spending the entire night in labour and going through natural childbirth, you can only imagine that the joke did not go over very well. I told Adam that story a million times.
Jason brought me roses that wonderful day, and the cutest baby blue teddy bear. The card said, “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy”. I still have that bear and card.
Adam was healthy and beautiful, and we fell in love. We will always love our boy.
But oh, how incredibly robbed he was. Of life. Of joy. Of growing up. Of everything. I will never understand how this could happen. It will never ever ever ever make SENSE. I guess you can never trust a bubble..
Today, we brought your birthday cake to Ronald McDonald House in Toronto. We decided that it was something we could not “enjoy”. I think I would have choked on it. But it was enormous, chocolate all over, and I hope it feeds all of the families living far away from their homes dealing with a very sick child. There were tears just seeing some of the staff there. They were so fantastic to us all.
We then went to the apartment that was donated to us in Davisville. I think we just needed to feel something familiar. Nothing feels familiar here anymore. It’s just an empty house, an empty bedroom, and a very lonely guitar.
We will never stop wondering why you had to go and why we are still here. We miss you from the very bottom of our very broken hearts. I did my best to honour you today without saying “happy” birthday. Because I know you would not be happy this way. Dad would have taken you out tonight for your first legal beer. Or two...
On our way home, I heard a song that you played on your acoustic. I can remember you would strum the guitar and I would sing. You never sang. You were too cool for that.
This song is for you, my perfect, sweet boy. You rocked my world every single day. I wish that I could be stronger for you, but we are both doing the very best that we can…
PS. Thank you everyone for your beautiful messages today. They were very sweet and very needed.
Written Apr 1, 2013 7:07pm
I’ve been meaning to write to all of you for quite some time now, but wanted to save it for today.
First, I want to say thanks to everyone who came to honour Adam at his memorial. Your presence and your love made it easier for us to get through the day. We had close to 60 blood donors. That is potentially 180 lives saved. Simply outstanding. Thank you all for your endless love and support. Without your help, I don’t think I could continue on in this life.
I want to say thank you to our many auction donors for their generous contributions. Your support helped us generate needed funds for childhood cancer, and helped make our day incredibly successful.
I want to say thanks to all of our volunteers that came to help us put this day together. Some of them came many miles away just to be by our side. Some spent countless hours using their artistic talents to put the most beautiful touches everywhere. We really do have the most amazing friends that love Adam so deeply.
And I want to say thank you to those of you that could not attend, but donated blood or released balloons in honour of our son. We are so touched that you remembered.
And lastly, and most importantly, I want to thank my husband for really putting most of this together. He spent never-ending hours making arrangements and never complained. He stayed strong for me so that I wouldn’t crawl into a hole or become overwhelmed, and he did it in the hopes to make a difference for the others. But most of all, he did it to make his son proud. And he did.
In attendance that day was an amazing family that we regrettably met at the hospital while Adam was having his second transplant. Their daughter was in treatment for leukemia at that time. Adam played the guitar for her. Only days after coming to remember Adam, their daughter relapsed and they have found themselves once again back into the darkness of childhood cancer treatments. Our hearts are so heavy with this news as we remember very well how overwhelmingly difficult this is for them. It is a place that no parent wants to be. All I can say is a big FYC to this. There are no other words.
Another very important family is one that lost their daughter three years ago. Three years of living without their little girl. Their daughter changed my son’s life. He rode for her when he was well. She was his inspiration. She always will be. She is deeply, deeply missed.
But I am sick. I should not be having these conversations with other mothers, their children dead from cancer… relapse…. families and children that are suffering as we speak. Far too many. It’s so unfair and we need to change it. With your continued donations and support, we can one day stop this monster. Our kids need the chance to grow up to deal with cancer when they’re 70; not 2, not 10, not 13. This is happening every single day across our country, but somehow the importance is lost in the shuffle. Adam is a great messenger, and his messages are telling us all to never give up. Thank you to all of you who refuse to give up and continue to keep his wishes in your heart.
March 11th was a very dark day. Every day is hard. But this day brings back the horrible memories of when Adam left. We went to his school and decorated his lilac tree with FYC ribbons and some flowers. We then went to RVH and delivered a gift to the wonderful nurse that helped Adam as he was struggling that horrific night. I didn’t go inside. I couldn’t step one foot back in there. We just wanted to say our thanks.
As time goes by, birthdays, mother’s day/father’s day, special occasions, all of these events do not become easier for us. They are constant reminders of the milestones that will never be shared with Adam. Whoever said it gets easier is lying. Those words come from people who do not leave flowers at the cemetery for their child or stare at a box on a shelf. Adam would have been the most beautiful and incredible soon-to-become 19-year-old to walk this planet. It is beyond unfair that we only can imagine it. This is just some kind of horrible mistake and most days I honestly don’t know how I’m surviving it.
Today is one of those milestones. Today is the second anniversary of Adam’s second bone marrow transplant. I remember Adam being so brave; yet so frightened to enter the isolation room again. Adam rarely cried, but walking back into that tiny, sterile room was too much for him. He knew what he was about to endure. He knew he was going to become sicker than the first time. He knew that horrific things could happen in there. He also knew that he might never leave. Without us knowing it, his mind and his heart were in agony. It was the bravest thing I had ever witnessed. Again, another donor that we are unable to thank personally for generously giving us close to one year with our child. Although they weren’t the happiest of days, we did everything we could to make the best of them under the circumstances.
So thank you, whoever you are, for the precious gift of time...
I’ve attached a link to a video (for those that have not seen it) that was played that day in honour of Adam and the Sears National Kids Cancer Ride from last September. Adam’s friends and the entire Coast to Coast Foundation were able to bring Adam across the country and raise the very funds that your generous contributions will help other families that travel this horrendous road.
Again, thank you all for remembering that today is a gift.