As part of the Nichols School Bald For Bucks team, I would like to raise money for cancer research and patient care programs at Roswell Park. Please donate, no donations are too small.
Like our classmate Levi, and maybe even you, I experienced someone I loved very much pass away from cancer. He was my Papa. My Papa was the sunshine to a cloudy day, and he changed frowns to smiles. I have so many wonderful and warm memories with him. Here are two of my most treasured ones that include holidays and baking with my Papa.
One of my favorite memories with him was when he dressed up as my Aunt Gloria on Halloween. It was hilarious! When my Grandma saw him, she even said, “Hi Gloria”. Another time on Halloween, he pretended to drink from a creepy skeleton bottle (which was part of our Halloween decorations), a drink which then turned him into a very frightening monster! Instinctively, I started running but he grabbed me and we both started laughing.
Every Christmas, we made cookies for Santa and for ourselves. Not just any cookies but the greatest and most delicious cookies of all time, my Papa’s secret recipe. I remember standing on a stool, for I was too small to reach the top of our baking table, listening to music, wearing my "Francesca” chef hat on top of my head, and cutting out angel-shaped cookies with my brothers and my Papa. That was a special day, a tradition that I couldn’t wait for, “Papa Day”.
Then came the day that my Papa was diagnosed with colon cancer. My heart stopped when I found out, and I was very scared. It was caught quite late and was already stage 4 cancer. I remember visiting him at the hospital and smelling medicine and doctor stuff. My Papa looked very pale and weak, and my heart ached at the sight of him, but he acted very brave.
Then, it was the day of his funeral and I couldn’t hold back the tears streaming from my eyes. My throat was all choked up, I couldn’t talk, and I was praying to be woken from this horrible nightmare.
But, the next day I realized it wasn’t a nightmare. Things weren't the same ever again, and I wasn't either. It was like a huge gash that heals over time, but leaves a scar with you forever.
Even though my papa died, he has never died from my heart. I don’t want anyone to experience the feeling I felt when my papa died.
Please consider donating to help me raise money for cancer research.
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